Unique?

I like to think of myself as a unique little snowflake, like no other.

''Of course you are', cry all. (And 'Thank God', they mutter too.)

But I noticed, when reviewing the photos I took up at the allotment the other day that one in particular reminded me of someone...



aaaaaaaaaaNana OubaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaOub


Really, it's just me with better hair.

It makes me come over all Calvinistic (and I'm talking the religion here, not the And Hobbes variety...) Is my life under my control? Do I have free will? Or am I just a genetic copy destined to trot along a predestined path??

My Nana had two boys and a girl.

Check.

She was prone to a bit of the pudge.

Check.

She was by all accounts a bit barmy.

Check.


Noticing a pattern?

Disturbing!

Then again, my maternal grandfather was a vegetable growing writer. So maybe I'm fixating on the wrong grandparent.

And thankfully I don't have his bald spot. (Just yet at least.)

Unique?

I like to think of myself as a unique little snowflake, like no other.

''Of course you are', cry all. (And 'Thank God', they mutter too.)

But I noticed, when reviewing the photos I took up at the allotment the other day that one in particular reminded me of someone...



aaaaaaaaaaNana OubaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaOub


Really, it's just me with better hair.

It makes me come over all Calvinistic (and I'm talking the religion here, not the And Hobbes variety...) Is my life under my control? Do I have free will? Or am I just a genetic copy destined to trot along a predestined path??

My Nana had two boys and a girl.

Check.

She was prone to a bit of the pudge.

Check.

She was by all accounts a bit barmy.

Check.


Noticing a pattern?

Disturbing!

Then again, my maternal grandfather was a vegetable growing writer. So maybe I'm fixating on the wrong grandparent.

And thankfully I don't have his bald spot. (Just yet at least.)

Poetry Bus Haiku - Sorry TFE

We were tasked with writing about either loneliness, or family skeletons for this weeks Poetry Bus ride. I went with the family fun. I've kept it brief, gone with the haiku - apologies to our honoured progenitor whom we all know detests this over used form. Sorry dude.

Family Skeleton Haiku

I get quite worried
that it will be me who they
never talk about.

Poetry Bus Haiku - Sorry TFE

We were tasked with writing about either loneliness, or family skeletons for this weeks Poetry Bus ride. I went with the family fun. I've kept it brief, gone with the haiku - apologies to our honoured progenitor whom we all know detests this over used form. Sorry dude.

Family Skeleton Haiku

I get quite worried
that it will be me who they
never talk about.

Hedge 1 - Oub 0

I fell with great force into a hedge yesterday.

Think the bastard child of 'You've Been Framed' and 'Jackass'. I missed my footing, tumbled in mortifying slow motion, life flashing before my eyes, into the aforementioned hedge. This hedge surrounds the entrance to an expensive and lifestylee Garden Centre, so loads of beautifully turned out ladies-who-lunch looked on in horror as I cannonballed into the shrubbery.



You'd be surprised at the amount of damage you can do, landing in a hedge. I am black and blue, head to foot. And that's just my dignity. Morto. And I can tell you, it's bloody difficult to carry off a 'I, like, so meant to do that' walk of shame when your foot is throbbing and your shoulder is aching. And you find out later that you have half the foliage in your hair. (Kind husband picked it out.)

Though, all things considered, as the eldest Oubliette child said, 'At least the hedge was there...'


So, what do you do the day after you've suffered such a devastating injury? Yes, go up to your allotment and do four continuous hours hard labour. I am a stranger to good sense. But you see, we are taking a little trip abroad very soon, a bit of sun and rest, volcanic ash permitting, and I must leave my beloved plot in good condition.

The sun shone! Hurray!



Then it rained. Boo!



Then there was thunder. (I decided that holding a hoe at this point might be a bad idea.)

An actual steam train went by. That was very cool.


Then I had a cup of tea.


Flask-tastic


Yes, I did get a little snap happy with my camera phone as I waited for a particularly heavy down pour to ease. I wonder what the bloke in the next plot thought I was doing in my shed as my phone made very loud camera shutter noises...

But there has been some good news this weekend - The potatoes are growing!! Oh, I could faint from excitement...


So, now I sit here on the sofa, Mr Oub is running around putting the children to bed and cooking the dinner. It hurts a bit to type, but I carry on as I know my public is always desperate to hear my news. I only hope now that I won't be too sore to hail and hop on the Poetry Bus tomorrow...

Hedge 1 - Oub 0

I fell with great force into a hedge yesterday.

Think the bastard child of 'You've Been Framed' and 'Jackass'. I missed my footing, tumbled in mortifying slow motion, life flashing before my eyes, into the aforementioned hedge. This hedge surrounds the entrance to an expensive and lifestylee Garden Centre, so loads of beautifully turned out ladies-who-lunch looked on in horror as I cannonballed into the shrubbery.



You'd be surprised at the amount of damage you can do, landing in a hedge. I am black and blue, head to foot. And that's just my dignity. Morto. And I can tell you, it's bloody difficult to carry off a 'I, like, so meant to do that' walk of shame when your foot is throbbing and your shoulder is aching. And you find out later that you have half the foliage in your hair. (Kind husband picked it out.)

Though, all things considered, as the eldest Oubliette child said, 'At least the hedge was there...'


So, what do you do the day after you've suffered such a devastating injury? Yes, go up to your allotment and do four continuous hours hard labour. I am a stranger to good sense. But you see, we are taking a little trip abroad very soon, a bit of sun and rest, volcanic ash permitting, and I must leave my beloved plot in good condition.

The sun shone! Hurray!



Then it rained. Boo!



Then there was thunder. (I decided that holding a hoe at this point might be a bad idea.)

An actual steam train went by. That was very cool.


Then I had a cup of tea.


Flask-tastic


Yes, I did get a little snap happy with my camera phone as I waited for a particularly heavy down pour to ease. I wonder what the bloke in the next plot thought I was doing in my shed as my phone made very loud camera shutter noises...

But there has been some good news this weekend - The potatoes are growing!! Oh, I could faint from excitement...


So, now I sit here on the sofa, Mr Oub is running around putting the children to bed and cooking the dinner. It hurts a bit to type, but I carry on as I know my public is always desperate to hear my news. I only hope now that I won't be too sore to hail and hop on the Poetry Bus tomorrow...

Holy Poetry Bus, Batman!

You know - I don't think this is what Pure Fiction was looking for at all when they set this weeks Poetry Bus challenge. But sadly, I am about as deep as a puddle, so creating a work of spiritual depth is tragically beyond me.

But hey, at least it's not blasphemous... I don't think...


Foot

God has taken up residence
in my right little toe.
I know that this is the case
'cos Satan told me so.
I'm not sure what he's doing there
or how long he plans to stay
(Lucifer was a little fuzzy on the facts
what can I say?)
But I'm happy that he is interested,
has chosen to take a role
in the problems of my little piggies
and my troubled sole.

Holy Poetry Bus, Batman!

You know - I don't think this is what Pure Fiction was looking for at all when they set this weeks Poetry Bus challenge. But sadly, I am about as deep as a puddle, so creating a work of spiritual depth is tragically beyond me.

But hey, at least it's not blasphemous... I don't think...


Foot

God has taken up residence
in my right little toe.
I know that this is the case
'cos Satan told me so.
I'm not sure what he's doing there
or how long he plans to stay
(Lucifer was a little fuzzy on the facts
what can I say?)
But I'm happy that he is interested,
has chosen to take a role
in the problems of my little piggies
and my troubled sole.

Last Bus...

As usual, I'm late for the bus. But, I've made it eventually...

I came up with this poem while trying to get the whole number 5, then number 67, multiplied by the hours of sleep I'd had, divided by my real age... Thanks Niamh, my brain hurts...



Plastic Vows

Upstairs on the 66b
languid and lazy i gazed
a sign snagged my eye
It said - 'Plastic Wedding.'

I immediately imagined polymer nuptials
virgin Tina Tupperware betrothed
to studly Graham Guttering
A spluttering Reverend Bob Bakelite officiating
Polystyrene people sitting in pews
At the back,brooding Peter Polypropylene rues
the day he let that cute little lunchbox go

Vending cups confetti, tossed in the air
injection moulding -
the bridal bouquet Tina is holding.
the reception banquet a spread of inedible play food
plastic covered seats making every guests shuffle sound rude
wedding favours, in sandwich bags
(OK! magazine there to photograph the really plastic WAGs)

Tina and Graham, off hand in hand
wedded bliss, first kiss
A wipe clean wedding waltzing to the kazoo band.

(Of course it's a shame
that the sign really said
Plastic Welding instead.)

Last Bus...

As usual, I'm late for the bus. But, I've made it eventually...

I came up with this poem while trying to get the whole number 5, then number 67, multiplied by the hours of sleep I'd had, divided by my real age... Thanks Niamh, my brain hurts...



Plastic Vows

Upstairs on the 66b
languid and lazy i gazed
a sign snagged my eye
It said - 'Plastic Wedding.'

I immediately imagined polymer nuptials
virgin Tina Tupperware betrothed
to studly Graham Guttering
A spluttering Reverend Bob Bakelite officiating
Polystyrene people sitting in pews
At the back,brooding Peter Polypropylene rues
the day he let that cute little lunchbox go

Vending cups confetti, tossed in the air
injection moulding -
the bridal bouquet Tina is holding.
the reception banquet a spread of inedible play food
plastic covered seats making every guests shuffle sound rude
wedding favours, in sandwich bags
(OK! magazine there to photograph the really plastic WAGs)

Tina and Graham, off hand in hand
wedded bliss, first kiss
A wipe clean wedding waltzing to the kazoo band.

(Of course it's a shame
that the sign really said
Plastic Welding instead.)