Bill Posters Will Be Prosecuted

Bill Posters Will Be Prosecuted

Bill Posters Will Be Prosecuted!

There’s stickers all over the place.

I’ve no idea what he’s supposed to have done,

What crime he’s committed to have lost face.

 

Bill Posters Will Be Prosecuted!

It says it clearly, so it has to be true.

He’s probably banged up in a cell somewhere,

Wondering what on Earth he can do.

 

Bill Posters Will Be Prosecuted!

He’ll need a lawyer for his defence,

To argue his case before the bench,

To plead mitigation for the offence.

 

Bill Posters Will Be Prosecuted!

It’s probably right that he’s behind bars,

But why make his prosecution so public?

Is it written somewhere in the stars?

 

Bill Posters Will Be Prosecuted!

Let that be fair warning to us all!

It’s so easy to fall from one’s pedestal,

So simple to take a great fall.

 

Bill Posters Will Be Prosecuted!

But now I’ve got a knot in my knickers,

Because I’ve just seen another notice,

And they’re doing the same to Bill Stickers!

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

The Resistance Of The Meek

The Resistance Of The Meek

Apparently the meek shall inherit the Earth,

But they’re shoved aside by those who would shout.

The squeaky wheel makes the loudest noise,

And reasonable voices are drowned out.

 

So I’m starting a new resistance movement,

To combat those whose behaviour’s too wild -

The only qualification is that you’ve got to be gentle,

Not only quite meek, but also terribly mild.

 

There won’t be any noisy protests,

We won’t be waving banners out on the street.

We’re going to awfully well behaved,

Whenever we decide that we’d like to meet.

 

We’ll be humble and we’ll be discreet,

Our anger and annoyance will remain pent.

You’ll have to pay very close attention,

To detect the tiny signs of our dissent.

 

We’ll start with strongly-worded letters,

Followed up with tuts and with sighs,

And if we get really worked up,

We’ll go as far as rolling our eyes.

 

We’ll be rattling our cups in their saucers,

Over morning coffee and afternoon tea.

A frank exchange of tea and biscuits,

Then everyone will look up and see.

 

We shall mow our lawns in careful stripes,

Wear gloves when we’re driving the car,

Wear beige clothes and sensible shoes,

Then you’ll see how serious we are!

 

We’ll carefully study our thermostats,

When controlling our Central Heating,

And there’ll be competitive queuing at the Post Office

If any resistance we’re meeting.

 

Politeness doesn’t cost anything,

Or so we’ve always been told.

It’ll be compulsory “pleases” and “thank-yous”,

But only if you don’t mind us being so bold?

 

We shall avoid the self-service check-outs,

Because we don’t trust the technology.

We shall hold the door open for ladies,

Because manners triumph over biology. 

 

Caravanning will be a serious lifestyle choice,

And we’ll drive at a steady forty-two,

For a nice few days in Cleethorpes,

Altogether with our chemical loo.

 

Switching to decimal currency was a mistake:

We’ve only just got used to the change.

We’re going to keep on writing cheques,

Cos contactless cards are completely deranged!

 

We’ll insist on carpeting round the toilet,

And keeping loo rolls in crocheted dollies,

Because we all like things to look nice -

Just accept it as one of our follies.

 

We’ll be pulling on our cable-knit jumpers,

And buttoning our cardigans extra tight,

Before sliding into our very best slippers,

And double-locking the doors for the night.

 

And overnight we’ll use Steradent extra strength,

When cleaning and soaking our false teeth,

To make sure we have the shiniest dentures,

To hide the anger that’s bubbling beneath.

 

So if you’d like to join this radical movement,

And be a part of this seismic shift,

Just sidle over here and whisper quietly,

That, sometimes, you can get really quite miffed.

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Gentlemen LIft The Seat

Gentlemen Lift The Seat

In visiting the facilities one day,

I saw a notice that had me quite beat,

For, there upon the facing wall,

It said “Gentlemen Lift The Seat”.

 

I pondered this sociological observation -

Its meaning I couldn’t have guessed -

Was it a direct command I wondered?

Or a passive-aggressive request?

 

What had driven someone to write this?

Had previous visitors created some pain,

By misusing this convenience,

And not respecting the porcelain?

 

I guess it’s not aimed at the ladies

But it’s them that we’re trying to please

So I suppose it could be much better written:

Could You Men Aim Too?  Please?

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 28th August 2022

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 28^th August 2022 

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:                                              

1.      It has been a bad week for the domestic economics of D-Town citizens.  Following the fluctuations in world markets, the rising cost of gas and oil, global conflicts and the impacts of global terrorism, the energy regulator Total Wattage At Home (TWAT) has announced a new set of caps to the energy price tariff.  From 1^st October, the price will require the sacrifice of every family’s first-born child.  From 1^st December this will rise to the culling of at least one elderly dependant relative, and from 1^st March next year, the burning of all household possessions in communal street bonfires.  But stay warm for Winter! 

2.      And there are fears for the safety of the residents of TrowVegas, after fierce fighting broke out around the Atomic Pork Pie Factory.  Supplies of pork (snout and gristle) are reported to have gone critical, after local separatists attacked an overnight offal-relief train bringing supplies to the troubled plant.  Special supplies of flour and fat for pastry-making have been smuggled in to the facility, where workers are said to be risking their lives to manufacture the local savoury ddelicacy. 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Who Was That?

Who Was That?

I’m trying to solve a mystery

Something that’s been bothering me

I’m searching for a criminal mind

As you will shortly be able to see

 

It started off in the fridge

When looking for the chocolate I’d left

The wrapper was folded and torn

And of half the bar I was bereft

 

There were no footprints leading away

No clues I could possibly follow

But a theft had been committed

Leaving me feeling empty and hollow

 

The next outrage was in the bathroom

(I’d only popped in for a widdle)

When I couldn’t help but notice

The toothpaste had been squeezed from the middle

 

The toilet seat was in the wrong position

But worse than that was that I found

Someone had been here before me

The loo roll was fitted the wrong way round!

 

The bins hadn’t been emptied

The dirty dishes not cleared away

I was finding lots of things wrong

As I walked round the house on that day

 

Someone had drunk the last of the milk

In the bread-bin there was only a crust

I had to find out who was doing these things

And uncover the perpetrator I must!

 

Who was it that left their keys in the door?

And failed to shut the windows last night?

Where have these dirty foot-prints come from?

And who forgot to switch off the light?

 

I must do some basic detective work

Before I rush to call in Scotland Yard

There’s evidence all over the place

I’m sure that it can’t be that hard

 

I already have my suspicions

Of who left all that mess on the mat

I really hate to point fingers

But I’m guessing it must be the cat 

 

The only problem with these theories

The thing that doesn’t hold any water

Is there’s no motive or opportunity

Nothing hangs together like it ought to

 

No, I’ll just have to face up to facts

Which any amateur sleuth would soon see

Now that I’m living all on my own

Means the criminal just has to be …me!

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

I'll Do It Tomorrow

(I’ll) Do It Tomorrow

I’m not one for procrastination,

Not wishing to cause myself any sorrow,

But there are a few things that I’d like to put off,

Cause I can always do them - Tomorrow.

 

Tomorrow’s a wonderful day,

In fact my favourite day of the week,

For Tomorrow never actually arrives,

So we never need climb up that particular peak.

 

Tomorrow - I’ll do the washing and ironing,

I might even get round to the cleaning,

I could mow the lawn, or get into the garden,

Before life loses all of its meaning.

 

Tomorrow - I’ll put new batteries into the clock,

Or possibly fit a new washer onto the tap.

Is it worth me learning to play the guitar,

When my previous attempts were so terribly crap?

 

Tomorrow - I might finally weaken,

And concede that I’ll have to empty the bin -

There’s only so many ways you can squash it down,

In a futile attempt to cram yet more in!

 

Tomorrow - I’ll throw that yoghurt out of the fridge -

It’s growing penicillin if the truth be to tell.

I’m never going to be  bio-chemist,

And the kitchen is starting to smell.

 

Tomorrow - I swear I’ll read the instructions,

For all the appliances and things that I own.

There’s a huge pile of the tedious things,

And my collection has certainly grown.

 

Tomorrow - I’ll pay off the credit-card bill,

Avoid interest, and pay off the balance in full.

I could even complete my tax return,

But that would be incredibly dull!

 

Tomorrow - I’ll start eating a sensible diet,

And start to cut down my consumption of beer.

I’ll reserve the option to start my exercise regime -

The path to better health’s too obvious and clear.

 

Tomorrow - I’ll apply for a stair-lift,

Or perhaps invest in funeral plan.

There’s always a chance I’ll get round to it,

Before I finally go down the pan. 

 

Tomorrow - I might get into religion,

Look into eternity and all of that.

Tomorrow - I’ll seek out the Jehovah’s Witnesses,

And ask them to pop round for a chat!

 

Tomorrow - I’ll read right through “Ulysses”,

Then tackle Tolstoy’s classic “War & Peace”.

Tomorrow - I’ll admit I’ve been wrong about something,

Tomorrow!  Tomorrow! Wonders might never cease!

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Blackberry/ Fruit Chocolate Meringue Pots

Recipe for: BLACKBERRY/ FRUIT CHOCOLATE MERINGUE POTS 

Ingredients: 

(To make four pots) 

• 300ml double cream
• Splash of rum or brandy (optional)
• 4-6 meringue nests (depends on size), roughly broken
• 50g/ 2 oz dark chocolate, broken into small pieces
• 8-12 tblsp blackberries, washed 

Method: 

1. whip the cream to soft peaks
2. stir in the rum/ brandy (if using)
3. when ready to serve (NOT before!), assemble the pots
4. fold the meringue pieces into the whipped cream
5. melt the chocolate in a small bowl over a small pan of hot water
6. put 2-3 spoonfuls of fruit in the bottom of the pots
7. top with dollops of the cream/ meringue mixture
8. drizzle melted chocolate over the top and serve 

What else you need to know: 

1. this is REALLY simple & quick to do
2. this is rich without being sickly sweet
3. you don’t need to be precious with the quantities – whatever works in the pots/ dishes you’ve got
4. assemble the dish at the last minute.  Otherwise the meringue will melt into the cream like extra sugar, and the fruit colour/ liquid will leach into the white of the cream/ meringue
5. you can use whatever fruit you’ve got available, so long as it’s soft and has a little bit of liquid/ juice with it.

The Anti-Bucket List

The Anti-Bucket List or “empty” bucket list.  Perhaps it’s a “fuck it” list?

What’s this with working through a “bucket list”?

Things to experience before you die?

Can’t you just do that stuff anyway?

Without having to explain the reasons why?

 

After all, we’re all going to kick that bucket,

Albeit some of us quicker than others,

So I’ve devised a different strategy -

Listen here, sisters and brothers.

 

I’m taking the opposite approach,

One that’s simpler to put into action,

Cause you can do it all from your armchair -

In fact that’s its greatest attraction.

 

It’s all a matter of understanding oneself,

Coming to terms with one’s languor,

Of keeping all calm and collected,

And of one’s energy not turning to anger.

 

It’ll save me both time and good money,

And I’ll recommend it strongly to you.

So here’s a good solid agenda,

A list of things I’m NOT going to do.

 

I shan’t play for Yorkshire at cricket,

Nor wear the England shirt at football,

No ski-ing, or playing golf, or athletics,

In fact taking part in no sport at all.

 

So that also rules out the Olympics,

And trying to run a four-minute mile,

Running a marathon’s preposterous -

I can be lying in bed all the while.

 

Zip-lining, bungee-jumping, paragliding,

Activities designed to introduce strife,

Water-ski-ing, wing-walking or parachuting,

Anything where I’d have to hang on for dear life.

 

I’m not going swimming with dolphins,

Or any creatures that live in the sea.

Leave them all to their watery habitat,

Because it’ll never be of interest to me.

 

There’s no time to learn Chinese,

Or Serbo-Croat, that’s what I’ve thought,

Or Russian, Mongolian, Urdu or Swahili –

In fact - let’s face it – life’s just too short! 

 

And don’t ask me to keep chickens,

Goats & sheep hold no interest I confess,

I couldn’t be bothered with bees or with pigs,

And I’d refuse to clean up all of their mess.

 

I won’t ever be a space tourist,

Nor take a personal trip to the Moon.

It’s easier to stay back here on Earth,

Than make it to Mars anytime soon.

 

I refuse to ever eat in McDonalds or at Nando’s,

And to KFC I’ve always said nay.

I’ve so far managed to avoid food poisoning,

And I’d like to keep it that way!

 

So forgive me if I don’t want to climb Everest,

And avoid all of this other craziness.

Give me a break for the time I’ve got left,

And indulge me this life of laziness.

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

My Headstone

 Just thought I'd get my two pennyworth in before anyone else does

 RIP

 

ANDY FAWTHROP

 

Here lies Andy Fawthrop

Please inform his next-of-kin

He wasn’t up to much in life

But his mortal bones lie herein

 

Whilst he lived, he made mistakes

Went from blunder to blunder

But now his mortal course is run

And he’s lying six feet under

 

He was an avid organ donor

Of his eyes and kidneys now bereft

Gave his heart, his lungs and liver

So we could only bury what was left 

 

3/3/1955 - ?

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pies & Perspiration

Pies & Perspiration

Trailing rucksacks and water-bottles

They wander exhausted into the pub

Give their aching backs a solid stretch

And their cramping calves a gentle rub

 

They’re thirsty and they’re starving

So they can’t believe their eyes

When behind the bar they notice

A heated cabinet full of tasty pies

 

Drinks are bought and drunk

Then gratefully they take a seat

Grabbing cutlery and sauces

And hungrily they set to eat

 

It’s been a long walk getting here

Glad to have reached this town

Now the pastry crumbles as the knives go in

And the fillings soon wolfed down

 

The ramblers treat themselves to rest

Perspiration cooling on their brows

Soon they’ll be feeling sleepy

Their bodies hard to rouse

 

The room takes on a strange aroma

At first it seems to be the walkers’ desperation

But then I realise it’s more mundane -

Just a heady mix of pies and perspiration

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 21st August 2022

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 21^st August 2022 

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:                                              

1.      Citizens were shocked to find this week that the hot sunny weather is not, in fact, to last for absolutely ever and ever.  Cooler temperatures, cloud and rain-storms were greeted with absolute disbelief.  Supermarkets which last week were knocking out disposable BBQ’s like there was no tomorrow, were this week throwing them away over the back fence, in order to make room for umbrellas, warm coats and hot food. 

2.      The sudden flash floods have, however, caused a further problem for Wessex Water.  As the drains filled up and overflowed, there was nowhere left to pump the resulting untreated sewage.  The rivers and the canal in the area had already completely dried up, so there were no means by which the waste could be invisibly “lost” into the system. 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

 

Little Fairy Circles

Little Fairy Circles

Each and every morning

As I make my way across The Green

I realise that they’ve been here again

Leaving their traces to be seen

 

Perfect twinkling circles

That hadn’t been there the night before

Catching the early morning sunshine

I wonder what they’re lying here for

 

Pizza boxes, cans and bottles

As far as the eye can see

Evidence that they walked amongst us

Arranged in perfect symmetry

 

What are they trying to tell us?

What strange message from the gods?

Or is it just untidy bloody teenagers

And other messy little sods?

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Beware - Heavy Plant Crossing

Beware – Heavy Plant Crossing 

“Beware - Heavy Plant Crossing”

Is one of the oddest notices I’ve found

I see it in the strangest of places

Sometimes when I’m driving around

 

I wonder what it might refer to

A phenomenon completely new

What evasive action I should take

Or what it is I’m supposed to do

 

I have visions of an overweight bush

That’s been stuffing itself on burgers and cheese

With a too-large a Body Mass Index

That’s become clinically obese

 

Or the lead singer of Led Zeppelin

Robert, or Percy, as he was known

Who’s relapsed into a life of indolence

And whose body has obscenely grown?

 

But the comfort I take in these situations

Even though I don’t know what I’d do

Is that I’ve never once seen such plants

So I’m wondering – have you?

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Beetroot & Goat's Cheese Gratin

Recipe for: BEETROOT & GOAT’S CHEESE GRATIN 

Ingredients: 

·        500g beetroots, scrubbed, topped & tailed

·        100-150g goat’s cheese (or other soft cheese)

·        1 tblsp horseradish sauce

·        150ml cream, crème fraiche or yoghurt

·        3 tblsp fresh breadcrumbs (optional)

·        3 tblsp freshly-grated parmesan 

Method: 

1.      Preheat oven to 200C (fan 185C)

2.      Boil the beetroots for 10-15 minutes until tender, but still retaining some bite

3.      Drain and plunge into cold water for a few minutes

4.      When cool enough to handle, slip off any remaining beetroot skin and cut into thick slices

5.      Grease a shallow baking dish with a little butter

6.      Slice the goat’s cheese into small slices

7.      Arrange the beetroot & cheese slices in alternating layers in the greased dish

8.      In another small bowl, mix the horseradish with the cream.  Add salt & pepper

9.      Pour over the beetroot & cheese

10.   Put a layer of breadcrumbs (if using) & grated parmesan over the top of the dish

11.   Bake in the oven for about 10-12 minutes until the cheese is melted and the sauce is bubbling 

What else you need to know: 

1.      Serve with a green salad and some thick wholemeal bread to mop up the juices

2.      Ideal on its own as a snack meal, or makes an impressive side dish with red meats

 

Red Squirrels Drive Slowly

Red Squirrels Drive Slowly 

Red Squirrels Drive Slowly

Said the notice at the side of the road

But I feel it’s completely obvious

Why they can’t follow the Highway Code

 

If you give the slightest thought to it

It’s hardly a very big deal

After all - their hands are so tiny

I’m amazed they can even get hold of the wheel

 

Nor is their failure to get up much of a speed

Hardly going to win any medals

Clearly their legs are far too short

So they can’t stretch as far as the pedals

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Three Tampons

Three tampons

I was clearing out the cupboard yesterday

When I found the small green rucksack

The one we used to take when we went out walking

The one I kept when we went our separate ways

And I thought that I would use it once again

So I cleaned it up, and cleared it out

And there inside, within the hidden inner pocket,

I found three tampons that you must have packed

One time, long ago, in case of any accident

Not to be caught short, bleeding, in the countryside

And it made me think how time soon slips by

How easily we forget things, the provisions we once made,

How things that we expected do not come to pass

And how simply one can throw things in the trash

And start again without a second thought

A fresh period in one’s life

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Midnight Riders

Midnight Riders

The gentle swishing of the rubber on the road

With whirring wheels and gears well-oiled

Reduced to almost stealthy silence

Sudden dashing apparitions

Cycles swift looming from the shadows

Sweeping across the empty car parks

The wrong way down the one-way streets

Along the forbidden pavements

Through the empty market place

No hands and leaning back

High up in the saddle

And the occasional wheelie

Just because they can

No lights or identifying marks

Darkened clothing

Caps and hoodies

Goggles and scarves

To cover up their faces

Leaving only slits of hungry eyes

Like wind-bitten Wild West horsemen

Or hyenas creeping in among the houses

Under cover of the darkness

The menacing forms of phantoms

Or ghostly insubstantial wraiths

Fast-prowling round the town

To occupy the territory of the night

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 14th August 2022

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 14^th August 2022 

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:                                              

1.      Once again citizens of the borough have been badly caught out by the totally unexpected advent of Summer.  Following a long cool Spring and gradually increasing temperatures, the clocks going forward, and a significant and prolonged lack of rainfall, locals have been totally gobsmacked to discover that we are now living through a heatwave, there is a drought declared, and a hosepipe ban is in operation.  One local remarked “I think the Council should be warning us about such unexpected events as Summer.  After all – what are we paying our taxes for, eh?” 

2.      And the cost of living crisis continues to bite into properly enjoying the Summer.  The cost of a disposable BBQ (previously £7.99 at Morrisons) has now risen to hundreds of thousands of pounds since they have been used so effectively to set fire to tens of acres of tinder-dry farmland.  It has come as a bit of a shock to some people that taking a device which can reach 200C for several hours, and which has no known method of completely safe disposal, into areas that have had no rainfall for several weeks, could be considered risky and dangerous.  Who knew? 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

 

Damaged

Damaged (in Derby) 

First thing, beside the Costa on the corner

Serving up skinny lattes and complex cappuccinos

Steamed and foaming milk

And convivial warmth of cakes and coffees

Lies a man wrapped up in dirty blankets

Lifted from the pavement by a doorway step

 

His tousled unkempt hair

Sits atop a tired grubby face

His dreaming dog asleep beside him

His begging hat but thinly graced by coins

When two acquaintances appear from round the corner

And badger him back to unwanted wakefulness

 

Disappearing down the alleyway

They re-emerge shambling and refreshed

Eyes like shining diamonds

Perfect pinpricks of concentration

Mumbling something incoherent

Hands and arms working slowly

To counteract the shivering

 

Poundland and the betting joints

The amusement arcades and the charity shops

Are early thronged with needy punters

And the Closing Down Sale signs flutter in the breeze

A metro-bus signed Sorry Not In Service

Sweeps past the standing shoppers

The crossing’s red light warning not to walk

 

Across the street a woman calls out

Loudly coarse and raucous

Addressing no-one in particular

Wrapped within a world of her own making

Hauling bulging bags of clothing

And dragging a broken shopping cart

With its insistent squeaky wheel

Crying out across the morning

 Copyright Andy Fawtgrop 2022

Castle

Castle

That sound, that moment

When wood closes softly against wood

And the metal parts quietly touch each other

The satisfying click of engagement

A door that perfectly fits the frame

A latch that catches

A key that turns

A bolt that’s thrown

A curtain that’s drawn

A closing-in and a shutting-out

An exclusion of all the outside

The cold, the air, the weather,

Them, and the rest of the world

 

A feeling of coming home

Of safety and security

Returning to the roost

The familiar smells of cooking and washing

Of carpets and of furniture

The soothing quietness of rooms

Calm domestic spaces

Looking as if only lately left deserted

Still there and undisturbed

The warmth of shadows

And the ticking of the clock

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Roasted Shallots

Recipe for: VEGETABLE – ROASTED SHALLOTS 

Ingredients: 

·        500g/ 1lb 2 oz shallots

·        4 bay leaves

·        3 tblsp olive oil

·        2 tblsp balsamic vinegar

·        Handful black olives 

Method: 

1.      Put shallots into a bowl or jug and pour over boiling water to just cover

2.      After 5 minutes, remove, peel and cut any large ones in half

3.      Heat oven to 180C (fan)

4.      Tip the peeled shallots into a shallow oven dish

5.      Add all the other ingredients except olives, and stir to mix well

6.      Season with salt and pepper

7.      Bake, uncovered for 30-35 minutes, stirring half-way through and adding the olives

Poition Closed - Cashier Balancing

Position Closed – Cashier Balancing

Another from the “Bewildering Signs” collection.  Previous examples were:

·        This Toilet is Out Of Order

·        Do Not Worry Livestock

·        Casual Bearers Wanted

·        This Door Is Alarmed

 

Whilst waiting in the bank the other day

I noticed that things were exceedingly slow

That the number of people had started to grow

Only two cashiers open – what do you know?

Their automated facilities I’d chosen to eschew

So the time I was spending I’d started to rue

And, as I stood there in the lengthening queue,

I wondered what else I could do

In a chair at the side an old lady dozed

Slowly to the front my position had nosed

And I saw that there a notice had been posed

On the third cashier’s till – Position Closed!

The reason given was what puzzled me

“Cashier Balancing” but it was easy to see

She was sitting down – how hard could it be?

 

But I had a vision that amongst the cash and receipts

She was secretly practising great feats

That she was only pretending to be in her seat

And that really she was a talented athlete

That, if she hadn’t maintained an even keel,

She’d soon be attempting a cart-wheel

Or perhaps she was a prancer, or a chancer

Disguising her skill as a ballet dancer

That, operating without the aid of a safety-net

There were tricky positions into which she could get

Including that of a pirouette

That she practised with her legs as she sat

Her various manoeuvres as an acrobat

Perhaps she would glimmer and shimmer

When working as a synchronised swimmer

Or maybe she was cast, while working really fast

If she ever appeared as a gymnast

 

And, as she pretended to work at her station,

I wanted to award marks for “Degree of Difficulty”

Or even for “Artistic Interpretation”

For I’m sure that mere double-entry book-keeping

Sometimes must have reduced her to weeping

And, not wanting to appear dumb,

She extracted every last crumb

Of comfort, whilst she sat on her bum,

Not letting her body grow numb

But maintaining her equilibrium

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Chaff

Chaff

When the crop is safely gathered in

When the valued grains are pulled away

Then we are straw, and we are only chaff

Forced to live upon the gleanings and the leavings

 

When the creamy cheese has formed its curds

When the butter has been turned and churned

Then we are whey, and we are poured away

Fit for only cattle and for pigs

 

When the fruit is picked and carried home

When the trees have been emptied of their bounty

Then we are leaves, and we are broken twigs

Not even worth the sweeping

 

When the bread is risen and has been baked

When the loaves are shared and sliced

Then we are crumbs, and we are but dusting flour

Cleared from the table into the bin

 

When the beer is brewed and well fermented

When the casks of ale are drunk and emptied

Then we are lees, and we are only ullage

Poured away and down the drain

 

And when the fires burn our dwellings

And when the towers turn to charnel-houses

Then we are ash, and we are only cinders

The residue, the forgotten of society

 

And when the screams of death have faded

And when the desperate shouting’s fallen quiet

Then we are but an echo, just a faint vibration

Of a voice that no-one ever heard

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Don't Tell Me

Don’t Tell Me

Don’t tell me what his bloody name is, for it’s not at all important

And don’t tell me how old he was, because I do not need to know

I don’t care what he was like to be with at his school

Nor which college he went to, or what subject he studied

Whether he was a good student or not

Don’t tell me all about his family

Of his mother grieving in her disbelief

Of his father long gone missing

Or of his brother now gone into hiding

I have no interest in his general profile

Of his background and how he was brought up

Don’t tell me about the places where he used to go

And do not guess at his beliefs, religious or otherwise

And spare us all the speculation on his motivation

The careful planning and the murderous intent

Don’t tell me whether he was a person of special interest

Or whether he was known to the security services

And do not talk of the limits on immigration

Or of second generation integration

Nor waste my time explaining the meaning of jihad

Or about the programmes to prevent radicalisation

Because none of that really matters now

In fact you can spare me the whole bloody back-story

Because I simply do not want to know

 

But tell me more about the victims

Their names and tender ages

Unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time

Caught out by the bomber’s blast

Who suffered and were caused to die

Tell me about the devastated families

Who will have to live forever more with grief unbounded

And to make the funeral arrangements

For their dearly departed loved ones

 

And tell me about the paramedics

The emergency services and the first responders

Those who risked their lives to try and save the wounded

Those whose job it was to pick up dismembered body parts

And to re-assemble them to make them whole again

To allow their formal identification

 

Tell me about the police and ambulance men

The forensics and the explosives specialists

Tell me about the homeless men who tried to help

The taxi drivers who offered lifts

The cafes that gave away hot drinks

And the hotel workers who offered rooms and blankets

 

I want to hear about these heroes, not that villain

And please - don’t tell me that I’ve got that wrong

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 7th August 2022

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 7^th August 2022 

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:                                              

1.      D-Town’s military defences are on the highest level off alert as diplomatic tensions were raised to breaking point this week.  TrowVegas has declared a 5-square mile exclusion zone around their town borders, and are carrying out live milk deliveries in this area.  The 49 bus route has had to re-route in order to avoid the attentions of local militias.  The stand-off was caused when D-Town’s Speaker of the Council visited Melksham’s Town Hall last Saturday night in order to attend a concert by an Abba Tribute Band, followed by a disco, a visit which the Vegans described as “highly provocative”. 

2.      Meanwhile D-Town is second in the medals table in the West Wiltshire Commonwealth Games, being held in Hillworth Park over the past two weeks.  Swinetown is currently in the lead with 104 medals of various colours/ metals, closely followed by D-Town with a massive seven.  Not many boroughs of D-Town’s modest size can boast a gold-medallist in queuing, silver medallist in stick-waving, and a bronze champion at shouting at the traffic.  Whsat a time to be alive! 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

 

An Occasional Gardener

An Occasional Gardener

Along the old familiar lane

And up to the house that was my home

With a key that still fits within the lock

And turns easily as it always did

The rooms inside mostly empty

Awaiting a some-time final removal

Then stepping out to the garage and the shed

The garden and the greenhouse

To find the cobwebbed tools and mowers

Needed to give the old place its weekly trim

A short back and sides

To keep its neat appearance

And to do the running repairs

Until someone else can grasp the baton

And I can cease these painful visits

No longer an occasional gardener

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Do Not Worry Livestock

Do Not Worry Livestock

Seen upon a farmer’s gate whilst out walking

I pondered upon this heartfelt warning

What did it mean? And who was talking?

Was it a command to me and other ramblers?

Not to mess or mutilate his milkers

Nor to hassle or harry his heifers?

Was his pedigree bull of nervous disposition

And could not withstand any inquisition?

Or perhaps I should not rouse

Any of his hogs or his farrowing sows

In case they should feel forsaken

And then produce less tasty bacon?

Or maybe I should cross the field quickly

And with his sheep not shilly-shally

Nor hang around and dilly-dally?

No chattering with the chickens

And, under no circumstances, should I feature

In the discussion with any creature

An existential debate

Of what might be their likely fate?

 

But, then again, there was just a chance

That it was a message of reassurance -

He might have been reaching out to human-kind

Begging us not to be of troubled mind

Rather, telling us to put behind

Us all our cares and woe

That he wants us all to know

That when we’re feeling down and low

When we hear the ticking of life’s clock

That when our friends do naught but mock

And with guilt we’re had up in the dock

That when our life has foundered on a rock

Don’t worry – livestock!

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022

Chard, Cheese & Polenta Tart

Recipe for: CHARD, CHEESE & POLENTA TART 

Ingredients: 

• For the pastry
• 170g plain flour
• 60g quick-cook polenta
• 20g grated parmesan
• 140g unsalted, fridge-cold butter
• 50ml cold water
• Pinch salt
• For the filling:
• 200-250g hard cheese, grated e.g. gruyere
• 150ml crème fraiche
• 150ml single cream
• 3-4 eggs
• ¾ tsp each salt & pepper
• 200g chopped swiss chard or spinach, cooked briefly in olive oil & drained
• Extra grated parmesan for the topping 

Method: 

1. work all the pastry ingredients (except the water) together by hand or in a food processor to get a fine crumbly mixture.  Only add enough water to make it come together as a pastry
2. tip onto floured work-surface, & work until pastry comes together enough to be rolled out
3. butter a large flan dish, then lift the pastry disc into place & press gently into place.  Trim off any excess & use pieces to patch or re-inforce the gaps
4. chill in the freezer for 10 minutes.  Meanwhile heat oven to 180C/ 170C fan/ 350F
5. place a circle of grease-proof paper in the bottom of the pastry case & fill with baking beans
6. bake for 20 minutes until just golden
7. remove paper & beans & bake for another 10 minutes or until pastry cooked through
8. remove from oven & reduce oven temperature to 150C/ 140C fan
9. while the case is cooking, mix together all the other ingredients, except the parmesan,  in a bowl
10. pour into the cooked tart case & spread out evenly.  Grate parmesan on to the top
11. bake for about 30 minutes until the tart is golden on top & the mixture has set
12. leave to cool for 10 minutes before cutting & serving 

What else you need to know: 

1. great with a mixed salad & fruity chutneys
2. the polenta in the pastry mix just adds extra crunch & taste
3. good hot, warm or cold