News From Bromham - Dateline Sunday 30th November 2014

Bulletin From Bromham: Dateline – Sunday 30^th November  2014

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Bromham:

1.       Living in Bromham is not always a bowl of cherries.  One example occurred this week when one of the Parish Councillors, admittedly a little tired and emotional after a long evening spent in Devizes’ Corn Exchange’s KFC-sponsored Chicken Hall, decided to take a cab home to our little village outpost.  Accompanied by his wife, the long-suffering Lady Celia Fatbottom, David “Richgit” Piglet thought it would be a good idea to tell the cab-driver (Peter Slackbrain) which was the best route to take.  Unimpressed by the sat-nav instructions and Slackbrain’s 30 years of local driving experience, Piglet launched into a long and abusive diatribe, insulting the driver’s intelligence, education, speech and vocabulary, accusing him of ruining their whole evening.  Slackbrain, defying his own name, recorded the whole sorry episode on his mobile phone, later releasing it to the media.  Although he answered back to Piglet very little, he did eventually let him out of the cab with a cheery smile.  It is not yet known how long it took Piglet and his wife to walk the seventeen miles back home to the village.

2.       And on the final day of the trial in Bromham Crown Court, the former chief whip of the Field Land-Owners’ Party (FLOP) in the Parish Council, Andrew Shitwell, lost his libel case against the local policeman, Bobby Copper.  Shitwell denied ever having called Copper an “oik”, a “nerk” and a “total twallock”, but the judge decided that, on the balance of probabilities, he probably had done, since Copper was not public-school-educated, and probably too stupid and unimaginative to have ever made up such terms of abuse.

3.       For details of these and all other Bromham stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station Carrot FM.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

The Shopping Forecast

The Shopping Forecast

And now for the Shopping Forecast,

Issued by the Met Office today.

They want to clear out their sales goods,

And they think this is a good way.

There are warnings of Sales in these areas:

The bargains are quite striking.

And to help with this new ploy,

The manager’s dressed like a Viking.

Chippenham High Street and town centre -

Depressing & occasionally poor.

Increasing number of pound shops,

And charity outlets at every door.

Woolworths has long gone now,

And many shops have gone silent.

After dark it gets much worse -

Dangerous, occasionally violent.

Somerfield and The Co-op – moderate,

Though there’s not much in the aisles.

Tesco, Asda and Sainsbury

Are out of town – five miles.

But small shops on the High Street,

And others of such propensity,

Then there’s Bejam and Safeway,

Finally losing their identity.

Lidl & Netto – very depressing,

But a bargain or two in the process.

Backing up at the checkouts:

Expected to get better – I guess.

Piles of goods – poor visibility.

Bright coloured trolleys – veering.

Unclear why they don’t fix them,

And try to improve on the steering.

Although there are local variations,

Getting around there is erratic.

It takes a Force 8 to push them,

Then you get to the checkout - automatic

The general position in Devizes:

Moderate or good – price marking.

Bear, Pelican and Black Swan:

Market Place – good parking.

Corsham – fast foods & some bargains,

Kebab shops – always increasing.

Markets on Tuesday – improving.

Discounts - never ceasing.

Marlborough – posh shops & Waitrose;

Prosperous and very well-heeled.

Punters with more money than sense,

Though some were born in a field.

  

M4 motorway – veering west:

Bath & Bristol – always enticing.

Wallet - slowly emptying.

At Iceland – moderate icing.

Cribbs Causeway – intimidating.

To get in there’s a big deal.

Debenhams, and House of Fraser -

Credit card – beginning to squeal.

So here is the general Synopsis:

If you run out funds you must borrow.

Depressingly the same I’m afraid,

But improving – better tomorrow.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

Lost In Cyberspace

Lost in Cyberspace (or the dangers of the online world to the unwary)

There’s a world out there waiting to be found,

I’m sure you’re willing to agree,

But there’s lots more in cyber-space:

A domain that was quite new to me.

I’d lived happily enough in the real world,

Until in front of my keyboard I was set,

To probe into the mysteries

Of this thing called the Internet.

I started by opening my browser,

And began searching for websites.

And then they came up on the screen,

A whole new world of delights.

You just click on the links – it draws you right in.

I was looking for some “biography”,

And before I knew what I was doing,

I was staring at high-grade pornography.

I saw some things that boggled my mind:

I admit that I was almost quite tempted.

It’s amazing what you can do with your body:

Some positions I’d never attempted.

I thought I’d better move on quickly,

And try to do something worth rating.

So I signed up to this site that I found,

For some online computer dating.

I entered all of my details:

You know - young, good-looking and free,

To see what matches it might find,

And pull up a partner for me.

Before long I’d struck up a friendship,

With this lady who called herself Honey.

But it didn’t take too long in the chatroom,

Before she started asking for money.

She passed on my details to some people she knew,

Who ran a scheme that was a scam.

They bombarded me with emails,

And filled all my inbox with spam.

Before this new time on the computer,

I’d thought that email was often a treat,

And my only experience of Spam

Had been pink luncheon-meat.

I couldn’t believe she’d betrayed me.

The experience had started to suck.

So I sought solace in online friends,

And put my profile up on Facebook.

  

It was then that I discovered,

How cruel the world could sometimes be.

I wanted to be loved, to be wanted,

But nobody ever poked me.

All this was totally depressing.

I began to feel like some kind of frog.

So I told of my disappointments,

And I began writing a blog.

The online community was waiting, I knew,

For someone who wasn’t a quitter.

I decided to go completely global,

And started tweeting on Twitter.

I sent my message out to all who would listen,

In my attempt to be a great hero,

But I found that I wasn’t that popular:

Number of followers – zero.

Then my firewall appeared to crumble,

My anti-virus started to crack.

With Trojans, Worms and Malware,

It appeared I was under attack.

My cursor started jumping around,

Problems all over just erupted.

My cookies turned very soggy,

And my files came out all corrupted.

So I think I’ve learned a good lesson:

It’s a great hint here I’m dropping.

Just be careful when you log on,

And best stick to online shopping.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

Halloumi & Sweet Potato Burgers

Recipe for: HALLOUMI & SWEET POTATO BURGERS (V)

Ingredients:

• 450g sweet potatoes, peeled & cut into chunks
• 175g broccoli florets (optional)
• 2-3 garlic cloves, crushed
• 1 red onion, finely chopped
• 1-2 red chillies, deseeded, finely chopped
• 175g halloumi cheese, grated
• 2 tblsp wholemeal flour
• 2-3 tblsp sunflower oil
• 450g onions, sliced
• 1 tblsp chopped fresh coriander

 Method:

1. cook the sweet potatoes in lightly salted water for 15 minutes or until tender.  Drain & mash, placing into a large bowl
2. cook the broccoli, if using, for 3 minutes.  Drain & refresh in cold water (to retain colour & texture).  Drain & add to the sweet potatoes
3. stir in the garlic, red onion, chillies, halloumi, salt & pepper.  Mix well & shape into 6-8 patties or burgers.
4. coat in flour then put in the fridge to chill for an hour or two
5. when ready to serve, heat half the oil in heavy frying-pan.  Add the sliced onions & sweat gently for 15 minutes or so, without browning.  Stir in the coriander.  Set aside.
6. add the remaining oil to another pan.  Fry the burgers over a medium heat for 5-6 minutes each side
7. when almost ready, add the onions/ coriander to the pan.  Warm through & serve

 What else you need to know:

1. these make a delicious vegetarian meal accompanied by a sweet chillie dipping sauce and a green salad

Euclidean Love

Euclidean Love

Perhaps we can describe the shape of our love

The line between us being short

Having no width and little distance

Straight and without angles

Proof, if it were needed, that we are on the same side

Two figures sharing the same plane of existence

The same dimension of being

Not parallel and un-meeting

But bodies converging by degrees

The elements of our lives triangulated

To meet at the same point

Within the small circumference

Of a wide circle of space and time

A simple unopposed geometry

A fixed and solid truth

Governed by laws unseen

Non-tangential axioms

Equal plus equal being equal
The whole being greater than our parts

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

Beef Broth and Dumplings

Recipe for: BEEF BROTH (with dumplings)

Ingredients:

• 1lb (or more) of lean stewing or braising steak, cubed into bite-size pieces
• Large onion, roughly chopped
• ½ swede, peeled & roughly chopped
• 2 medium carrots, peeled & roughly chopped
• 2 medium potatoes, peeled & cubed
• 4-6 oz peas (fresh or frozen)
• 2-4 oz red lentils
• Beef stock cube

 Method:

1. in a large heavy pan or casserole, put a pint of water on to boil.  Crumble in the stock cube and throw in the lentils
2. as the liquid is coming up to the boil, throw in the onions, swede, carrots, potatoes & the steak
3. once up to the boil, lower the heat to a simmer & skim off any scum which rises to the surface
4. cover & cook very gently for a couple of hours.  The lentils should become so soft that they become part of the liquid, help to thicken it,
5. when the broth is almost ready, add the peas & cook until tender
6. adjust seasoning with salt & pepper
7. if using dumplings (see other recipe), drop them into the simmering liquid and cover with a lid, cooking for about 20 minutes, until the dumplings have fluffed up
8. serve in large soup bowls

 What else you need to know:

1. this dish is actually better if you make it one day, then let it cool and heat it up the next day
2. it gets even better if you keep it going for a few days – make a double quantity to start with, then keep topping up with extra hot water, another stock cube, fresh vegetable etc as you deplete the quantity by eating it.  The sauce thickens, matures & gets more depth.
3. you can add other veggies if you want – celery, courgette, tomato, mushroom – it doesn’t really matter – use your imagination!
4. it also works with chicken, but add later in the process & cook for a shorter period
5. great with dumplings or a floury baked potato

News From Bromham - Dateline Sunday 23rd November 2014

Bulletin From Bromham: Dateline – Sunday 23^rd November  2014

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Bromham:

1.       Bromham’s political landscape suffered an earthquake this week, with the result of the Parish Council by-election for the Lower Field ward being announced on Friday morning.  Nigel Totally-Without-Principle was re-elected to the ward after defecting from the Field Land-Owners’ Party (FLOP) to the Swivel-Eyed Loon Federation (SELF).  SELF’s leader, Walter Farrago, who was found propped up in the corner of the snug bar of The Wounded Ferret, was unable to comment.

2.       The by-election was a disaster for the Carrot-Rooters’ Action Party (CRAP), when one of their front-chair, shadow cabinet councillors was caught tweeting snobbish pictures of the Lower Field ward.  This included snaps of broken tractors, copulating sheep and two men wearing trousers held up with baler-twine.  CRAP’s leader, Ted Willeybrand, was found propped up in the corner of the snug bar of The Wounded Ferret, next to Walter Farrago, and was also unable to comment.

3.       For details of these and all other Bromham stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station Carrot FM.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

Sex Toy

Sex Toy

I’ve been hunted down by a cougar:

Compared to her I’m nothing but a boy.

She’s an older woman with libido,

Now that I’ve become Nancy’s sex toy.

That woman’s fierce and relentless,

And she never seems to tire.

At nights she keeps me prisoner -

I’ve become her object of desire

I’ve told her I’m too old for this game,

In between my wheezes and puffs,

But she just smiles back at me sweetly,

And whips out the pink furry hand-cuffs.

I mean – it’s tiring for an old guy like me,

A weak excuse it’s got to be said,

But it’s pretty difficult to argue,

When she’s got me chained to the bed.

She’s got this amazing repertoire of tricks,

That reduces us both to wrecks.

There’s nothing she draws the line at,

In her pursuit of over-age sex.

I do what I can to satisfy her urges,

And I’m not trying to be coy,

But it’s really quite kinky,

What she does with my winkie,

Since I’ve become Nancy’s sex-toy.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

The Bottom-Pincher of Old Corsham Town

The Bottom-Pincher of Old Corsham Town (the latest in a line starting with Milligan/ Goons’ Dreaded Batter Pudding-Hurler of Bexhill-on-Sea, and Milligan/ Two Ronnies’ The Raspberry-Blower of Old London Town)

There’s a town in West Wiltshire,

That stands out proud on the A4.

Let me tell you a tale of old Corsham,

That you’ve not heard of before.

For in this quiet, peaceful corner,

With its old High Street & its shopping,

Things most nefarious were afoot,

Which would have your jaw dropping.

This old weaving town had its characters,

Its girls on the corner and punks,

The bag-ladies, and kebab-sellers,

And the usual winos & drunks.

The car parks and the toilets,

The back-streets and the alleys,

But surrounded by great country,

With rolling hills & some valleys.

T’was a peaceful town it’s reported:

In the Gazette there was an article,

About the town’s small Hadron collider

And the search for the Chippenham particle.

But then this peace was suddenly broken:

The ladies there broke into a sweat,

For out on the streets one day,

Emerged a terrible new threat.

An elusive figure, a pimpernel,

His crime was a clincher:

Creeping up behind ladies:

The phantom bottom-pincher.

At first they were all in an outrage,

For he didn’t seem really to choose

The attractive younger ladies:

It was the older ones he tended to goose.

But soon they felt themselves flattered:

I just have this to mention,

It may have been a bad thing to do,

But really they liked the attention.

For shopping in Corsham was boring,

Thrills could be quite hard to find,

Even if the criminal was unknown

At least someone’d touched their behinds.

So no-one ever reported the crime,

The police were powerless to act,

But the ladies’ husbands became annoyed

And vowed vengeance - that’s a fact.

The provisional wing of the Salvation Army

Were brought in to scout,

But they never spotted the crime,

They never caught the chap out.

The bum-pincher became a popular figure,

Of his habit he took fully his fill,

There was no-one to get cross with,

For the victims shared in the thrill

So you’ll find if you go into Corsham,

It’s a town of wonderful places,

But now you know the deep secret

Of so many smiling faces.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

Health, Wealth & Happiness

Health, wealth & happiness: (or how I was persuaded to seek health & youth, but gave it all up for booze & fags)

Now I’m the first to admit,

Although I’m certainly not wealthy,

I’d like to try & live as long as I can,

And that includes being healthy.

My other half – she looked hard at me,

And cast her critical eye.

“You need to get into shape” she said

And here are some ideas you can try.

She reeled off a number of therapies:

In fact she became quite verbal.

They were mostly New Age & Modern:

Some were Chinese and some were herbal.

I started on aroma therapy

Which created a wonderful smell.

But that just made me sleepy,

And off the treatment table I fell.

So nursing some bumps & some bruises,

I went to see a chiropractor.

She caused me so much pain that I cried.

And I’m afraid that I then sacked her.

So seeking for calmer approaches,

I tried ayurvedic head massage.

It brought a smile to my lips,

And peace to my ugly visage.

Hypnotherapy, meditation & yoga,

And various types of new diet:

Wheat-free, dairy-free and Atkins -

If it was faddy, I just had to try it.

Reflexology, and ear candling,

And all sorts of new medication.

Then finally I built myself up to try

Transcendental meditation.

This led to a new feeling of calmness:

My chakras were all in a line.

I started to feel so much better:

I fact I felt really quite fine.

And this was all very well for a while,

But it merely calmed my mental state:

I needed something else for my body -

A new person I wanted to create.

So I started to become more ambitious:

It’s what you do at such a juncture. -

Manipulation, electro-therapy,

And finally some acupuncture.

  

With needles all over my body,

My wellness began to increase.

If I could just push to the next stage -

Well – wonders might never cease.

I looked out for more treatments:

Anything health-like related.

Until finally I succumbed,

And had my colon irrigated.

It’s called hydro-therapy,

But there’s no need to sob -

It was all quite pleasant really,

And much easier than my later boob-job.

For I’d become addicted to nips and to tucks:

I didn’t need to be urged on.

I was even getting a discount

From my cosmetic surgeon.

But I suppose it’s the human condition,

To look for something more exotic,

When your diet gets increasingly boring,

And everything’s become pro-biotic.

Then finally the treatments stopped working:

What was once tight now only sags.

Anyway I’ve discovered a new diet –

It consists of chips, of beer and of fags.

So let this story become a warning to you:

Don’t think you can make yourself healthy.

Just stick with what you know,

And that way you might keep yourself wealthy.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

The Icing On The Cake

The Icing On The Cake

It was Christmas Eve in the kitchen,

Everything prepared, everything nice.

The turkey was stuffed and the veggies peeled,

So there was only the cake left to ice.

But I’d left it to the last minute,

And there wasn’t time to nip to the shop.

It was easy enough to make icing,

But nothing to decorate the top.

So my husband went out to his shed,

To see what he might be able to find,

And came back with a jar of ball-bearings,

Saying: “who’s to know? Nobody will mind.”

So I washed them and polished them bright,

Though it was all a bit of a fiddle,

And I placed them right round the edges,

With a sprig of holly in the middle.

Well, it looked proper champion,

With the large silver balls catching the light.

When my mother-in-law came the next day,

She’d be bound to admire the sight.

Well, Christmas Day came, and lovely it was,

We had our dinner, and a good drink,

Then mother-in-law eyed up the cake,

And said: “I’ll have a piece of that I think”.

So we both looked, and smothered a smile,

And with a knife I cut her a large slice.

She ate it up quickly and smacked her lips,

Saying: “that was really quite nice!”

“I’ll have another piece if you please!”

And that disappeared as fast as the first,

And then we all had a few more drinks,

As we’d all developed a thirst.

At this stage we were all stuffed to the gills.

The fire in the grate had burned down quite low,

So mother-in-law picked up the poker,

To stir it around and build up a glow.

Now we’d been eating and drinking all day:

Stuffing, and sprouts, and peas that were tinned,

And what with the turkey and the beer,

Well, it were bound to give the girl wind.

As she leaned and bent herself forward,

And, bearing in mind that she were quite fat,

She farted out bearings with incredible force,

And loudly assassinated the cat.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

Ordinary People

Ordinary People

They go to the supermarket

Pick up their children from school

Sit down to their teas in the kitchen

Then watch some evening TV

Sitcoms and serials the usual

Channel-hopping to find something cheerful

Chat shows and game shows

Perhaps ignoring the News

Sometimes they go to the pub

Have a chat with their friends

Or go off to the football

If City are playing at home

They’re married, and have been for years

A nice little house in the street

Maybe a car parked right there outside

And a garden to sit out when it’s fine

They have their worries, of course

And which of us can say that they don’t?

With prices going up it seems daily

Yet no pay-rise again on the cards

And when they’re in town on a week-day

They go into cafes and shops

Buy a lucky dip for the Lottery

And hope there’s a change in their luck

They sit right next to you on the bus

In the morning when they travel to work

And listen in to their music

To help make the time pass

They don’t look any different

Just ordinary people in so many ways

Nothing to make them stand out in the crowd

Or to show that they’re anything special

They don’t appear to be evil

Or look like marked criminal types

But what they get up to on their computers

Sets them apart from the rest

Their viewing and chatting and grooming

Goes on sometimes late into the night

But when you talk to them next morning

You’d never tell them apart from your mates

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

Audrey's New Man

Audrey’s New Man

Apparently, Audrey’s got a new man:

She met him via internet dating.

For she’s been far too long on her own,

And it’s time that she got back into mating.

On good authority he’s a nice bloke,

Quite chatty and easily amused,

Only one previous relationship, 

Almost new, because he’s hardly been used.

So - not much renovation to be done,

And little reconstruction needed.

He’s almost ready to be moved in with,

And there are no warnings to be heeded.

Yes, Audrey’s very pleased with her new man:

I hope that this time she’s going to be happy.

She’s a bit of a man-eater to be honest -

No-one knows what became of her last chappy!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

It's Complicated

It’s Complicated

Ernest courted Mary for many a day,

But I’m not telling it strictly right,

As it was Mary that courted Ernest,

For commitment gave him a fright.

The two walked out for many a month,

But Ernest never asked her to wed,

So Mary, becoming impatient,

Turned to Ernest and imploringly said:

“You’ve been avoiding my family,

And you’ve not met any of them yet.

Why don’t you come and meet mother?

I think it’s time the two of you met.”

So Ernest said he would, but didn’t mean it,

For he’d heard all about mothers-in-law.

He was sure if he met the old lady,

She’d soon point out in him every flaw.

So he’d walk Mary up to her house,

Always refusing to come in for some tea,

Then he’d give her a quick peck on the cheek,

Before turning on his heel to flee.

Then one day the lovers were out walking,

And bumped into a young girl passing by,

“At last! You get to meet my step-mother!

Didn’t you know that she’s younger than I?”

Ernest was thus introduced to this beauty.

He was overcome and soon lost his head,

In fact he preferred her to Mary,

And presently married her instead.

Now his mother-in-law is his wife,

And his ex-fiancée is his step-daughter:

You see-  I told you it was complicated,

When men don’t behave like they oughter!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

Menage A Trois

Menage A Trois

I’ve always fancied a “menage a trois”

(That would mean two others plus me),

But what is the right combination

Of the two sexes required to be?

Of another man I might become jealous,

And the woman would always be tired.

Two men are bound to be competitive,

For which one of us she desired.

Two women and I’d be caught in the middle,

Then again that might not be a bad thing,

Although I’d be the one that was exhausted,

No – the alarm bells are starting to ring!

Perhaps such an arrangement isn’t for me?

Three in a bed and you’re never alone!

No – scrub that one for an idea -

I think I’m better off on my own!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

Escape From The Zoo

Escape From The Zoo

It was nearly midnight in the zoo,

And hardly a creature was stirring.

The lions and tigers were fast asleep:

All you could hear was their snoring and purring.

All except for the armadillos,

For they are nocturnal you see,

And on the inside of the compound,

Is not where they wanted to be.

They’d started digging three tunnels,

But had only managed to create holes,

So they’d done a deal with some of their friends,

And drafted in an army of moles.

Construction went on almost constantly,

But, of course, it was safer by night,

And there was only a hundred yards left,

Before they could say good-bye and take flight.

But the zoo-keepers became suspicious,

Realising that not all was still fine,

For leading away from the enclosure,

They spotted ten molehills all in a line

Next night they suddenly swooped,

And moved the armadillos to a new pen,

Where the floor was made of strong concrete,

Saying “let’s see you get out of that then!”

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

News From Bromham - Dateline Sunday 9th November 2014

Bulletin From Bromham: Dateline – Sunday 9^th November  2014

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Bromham:

1.       The week in Bromham has been a confusing one. The leader of the Carrot-Rooters’ Action Party (CRAP) Ted Willeybrand has been the subject of a potential leadership crisis.  Members of his own party have been openly questioning whether he is the right leader to take them into the next elections for the Parish Council.  And whilst some others are openly saying that he is the right man, the vast majority of people in the village are openly questioning who the hell he is anyway.

2.       The confusion continued on Thursday when the Treasurer of the Parish Council announced that, following intense negotiation with the Council’s bank manager at Bromham Capital, he had managed to reduce the Council’s overdraft by half.  He said that once bank charges had been added to overdraft charges, plus the overdraft itself, and then taking away the number he’d first thought of, he had arrived at a much lower figure.  His calculations were disputed by Parish Councillors from the other side of the chamber, who claimed that if you took into account the interest rate applied, deducted last year’s debt, then added this year’s debt, allowed for two cheques that haven’t cleared, claimed cashback and added the accrued interest, you get back to the first number.  The bank manager, in a later statement, said he was totally confused, and asked for his space to be respected at this difficult time.

3.       For details of these and all other Bromham stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station Carrot FM.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

Remembrance

Remembrance

On the eleventh day

And at the eleventh hour

In a cold and wintry November

We choose that very moment

That specific time

At which we will remember

At the dawning of the Armistice

When the big guns at last fell silent

Memories that will never cease

Thinking of those poor Tommies

Forced to fight for King and Country

In pursuit of lasting peace

Now at that lumpen marble stone

The whitened Cenotaph

Gather men in darkened suits

Wearing poppies on sharp lapels

Holding rounded, heavy wreaths

Close by the sound of marching boots

The sombre tolling of Big Ben

A minute’s empty, windy silence

The Last Post sounding clear

Thinking of The Fallen

Blood spilt, sacrifices made

In many lands, both far and near

Respect for those departed

Who laid down their lives in war

Red and white flowers on this Sunday

But soldiers coming home

Face their daily battle

Such as how to cope with Monday

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

That Sinking Feeling

That Sinking Feeling (the desperation to not miss the sailing & find my ticket)

What a fine April morning to travel:

At last I’m my own master,

But the thing that’s worrying me

Is, can’t this train go any faster?

I’m already hungry & thirsty,

But those problems must wait.

If we don’t get there pretty smartish,

I’m afraid I’m going to be late.

For that steamer sure won’t delay,

If I don’t get there in time.

She’ll be departing in two hours,

Sailing across the Atlantic rime.

All that I possess is in this suitcase,

For I’m alone now, with no wife,

To try my luck in America,

And to try to start a new life.

For there’s nothing for me here now,

England’s become nowt but a cage.

There’s no work & no social,

And no way to make a living wage.

So I’ve decided to strike out for the new:

Got to do something to lick it,

And I’ve saved and I’ve borrowed,

Just to afford my third-class ticket.

At last – here we are at Southampton,

As the train shudders & rocks.

I hope it’s not far I’ve got to go,

To find my ship moored up in the docks.

It’s been a long journey, my case is so heavy,

I don’t want to be walking around,

But there’s bands playing and a great crowd -

After all, my ship is easily found.

She’s just over there, not far to walk.

There’s three different gang-planks,

Going right up into the ship:

A different one for every rank.

But what’s this? My ticket is lost!

I’ve searched myself all around,

In my jacket & coat pockets,

But the thing is nowhere to be found!

I can’t come all of this way,

Only to fail at the last minute.

Oh, where’s that blasted ticket

Where had I last seen it?

Then, Thank God, the panic is over -

I needn’t have been in a stew.

I had it all along I was sure,

I’d tucked it into my shoe!

  

So finally up the gangplank:

I’m only travelling steerage.

I’d love to go into First Class,

But that would require a peerage!

The ship is crowded & busy.

My below-decks cabin is cramped.

So I’ve stowed my gear quickly

And up the staircases I’ve tramped.

Then onto the deck & join in the cheering.

I need not have been in such a panic.

There’s even time to gaze down at the nameplate.

My new life starts here – on the SS Titanic!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

Compost Heap Jelly

Recipe for: COMPOST HEAP JELLY

Ingredients:

• 500g apple cores & peel
• 500g mixed citrus fruit peel (unwaxed lemon, orange, grapefruit, lime) cut into 1cm shreds
• 900 g granulated sugar
• Juice of 1 orange, lemon or grapefruit

 Method:

1. put all the apple cores & peel and the citrus peel into a heavy pan with about 1.5 litres of water, or enough to cover
2. bring to the boil, then simmer until all the fruit is soft & pulpy (about 45-60 minutes).  Remove from heat.
3. turn the contents of the pan through a scalded jelly bag or muslin cloth & leave to drip overnight
4. do not rush this bit – don’t squeeze the liquid through the bag or the jelly will be cloudy
5. the next day, measure the juice – you will probably have about 1.2 litres
6. put the juice into a clean pan and bring up to the boil
7. add the sugar – 450g of it for every 600 ml of fruit liquid, stirring until dissolved
8. add the orange or lemon or grapefruit juice
9. boil rapidly, without stirring, for 9-10 minutes until setting point is reached
10. skim off any scum with a shallow spoon, then pot & seal into sterilised jars
11. date & label the jars

 What else you need to know:

1. using the skin, cores & stones is a good source of pectin, which helps the jelly to set
2. this is a good, cheap recipe since it uses ingredients which were only bound for the compost heap anyway

Banks For Nothing

Banks for nothing (or how we should pity bankers, draw a line under the current banker-bashing, get over it and just “move on”).

I know there’s lots of appeals on your time,

And that the outlook’s not very sunny,

But there’s a cause I’d like you to hear,

If you could just spare some of your money.

These poor unfortunate men,

Nigel & Tristram – not their real name,

Find themselves in desperate circumstances,

Tagged with the wrong kind of fame.

They’ve been accused of being fat cats,

Just because they’ve had to pursue profit,

But now the gravy train’s been derailed,

And the feeding trough they’re having to quit.

They can’t afford a new Ferrari this year,

Which is a cause of great remorse,

And their wives aren’t very pleased either -

They’re only driving around in a Porsche.

Can you imagine conditions at their home?

Can’t you just feel some of their pain,

Only having caviar twice a week,

And drinking a lesser brand of champagne?

A five-star life-style is hard to maintain -

You need a bonus in millions.

The banks are squeezing their pay-outs,

Even though they’ve been bailed out with billions.

It’s not these chaps’ own fault you know,

When they put their funds out beyond our borders,

Avoiding taxes and regulation:

Yes - they were just following orders.

With only three long holidays this year,

And only a few savings they’re stashing,

It’s time for us to “move on” & “get over it”,

And call a halt to this banker-bashing.

If we can draw a line under the past,

And stop our whinges, moanings & ravings,

These chaps will soon be helping us out -

Once they’ve got their hands on our savings.

“Interest rates” & “lending criteria”-

Let’s all stop our incessant rambling,

For trades and swaps & investments,

Are much more complex than just gambling!

It’s not like they treat it as a casino,

And the Treasury has lots of complex rules,

For if they didn’t always do that,

Well - we’d all be looking like fools!

  

All right, they’re closing our libraries,

Selling the forests & shutting the loos,

But can we blame these poor bankers,

For all of this terrible news?

Inflation, high charges, unemployment -

Let’s get right down to the nitty-gritty.

There may be a financial crisis,

But can we blame these poor boys in the City?

This new banking levy hit these guys hard,

Their yachts are facing some heavy weather.

Shouldn’t we all be helping them out now?

After all – aren’t we “all in this together”?

So please - send us a small contribution,

By mail, by text, or you can phone us.

Send us your cheques as soon as you can,

Marking the envelope “bankers’ bonus”.

And let’s forget all the troubles we’re facing,

Let’s stop our shouting and frothing.

Won’t you join me in helping them,

So that we don’t have to say “banks for nothing”?

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014

Turning Away

  Turning Away

Lying quietly, carefully,

My body rigid, not touching,

Willing her not to wake,

Fearing any response to my warmth,

Selfish solely for my own sake.

Dreading any physical contact,

Lest she rouse and realise

The coldness of my touch,

The acting, the pantomime,

For this girl I once wanted so much.

This ‘love’ thing could never last,

It just wasn’t meant to be.

I find that I simply don’t care

My affections have wandered,

Such a shallow, sordid affair.

Perhaps she feels the same way,

Or has picked up the signals?

Maybe she already knows,

Of my indifference?

Or somehow my guilt shows?

Not long now, till this is all over,

And I can leave this bed for the last time,

To make my way across town,

Where a young girl with blonde hair,

Waits for me to make her my own.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014