Another day,hot coffee and a blank mind
Good morning journal,the time is 8:23am,I have been awake since 7:50am when Buttons,right on cue as always,gave her small bark on my side of the bed that signified that she wanted attention.Instead of laying there with my eyes closed and pretending to be dead as I usually do,I got up straight away,and,as usual,she hopped straight in to the spot I had vacated.Some things in our lives remain steadfastly unchangeable in our day to day existence,this is one of them,Buttons and her morning routine,it's like groundhog day.Remembering somewhere in the vast corridors of useless facts and fables contained within my mind,I dredged up from somewhere an old Chinese proverb,Confucius say,"never argue with old dog with leaky end",and,much as I love her,when her affliction of elderly flatulence kicks in,it is desirable to be at least several yards away.Okay,perhaps Confucius didn't mention old dogs and leaky ends,but if he didn't he should have.This morning,my mind is,for the most part,a blank canvas,and it is at times just like this that I never know what I am going to type,and I still find it very odd that my fingers keep on moving when I have no idea of what I am trying to say.I do find it enormously satisfying though,and fun,and sometimes when I read what I've written when I finish I think to myself,"what the hell am I rambling on about?". I have actually gone back over some of my ramblings and thought to myself,"who wrote this pile of bovine feces?",and yet I keep on doing it,it's like an addiction.I tend to veer off at tangents in my writing,I'll be typing one thing then suddenly something else will appear on the page,I feel like saying to my therapist sometimes,"don't beat yourself up because you don't understand me,.....I don't understand me!". Oh well,I am what I am I suppose,let me give you an example.When my wife was still in America and our courtship was in it's very early days,I tried to imagine in my mind's eye,always a dangerous thing for me,what the scenario would be like when we finally met,I penned a little verse or two to try and encourage her to finally get on that big silver bird that would bring her to my waiting arms,this is what I came up with,
"Is that a lump in your kilt Scotty,or is your sporran"
stiff with cold!
In my imagination,on the way to meet a plane,
I thought I'd wear my kilt,just to melt your heart again,
but as I walked along the road,some people grew quite bold,
and asked,"is that a lump,or is your sporran stiff with cold?",
I tried to change my thoughts,and think of what I'd like to say,
as I met you at the airport,and you turned to walk my way,
but in my mind I knew,that in my kilt there was a fold,
then a boy said,"hey,is that a lump,or is your sporran stiff with cold?",
In my minds eye I grew frantic,as I tried to hide my shame,
for by this time my sporran,sure was causing me some pain,
but as I passed a store,where lots of different things were sold,
a lady asked,"is that a lump;or is your sporran stiff with cold?",
Then suddenly I reached it,the airport where you'd be,
and in my imagination,I could feel relief for me,
but as we met,and you looked down,before our hands could hold,
you said,"is that a lump,or is your sporran stiff with cold?".
see what I mean journal?,but at least it got her on the plane!. The rest,as they say,is history,today,though we sometimes have our moments,we are,for the most part,happy basking in our respective love for each other.The kilt mentioned has since sadly disappeared,and the absence of a lumpy sporran in our lives has not lessened our relationship one iota.Now my coffee mug is empty and whilst I replenish it with fresh nectar,I shall conjugate further if I wish to continue with this mornings claptrap,I shall return.Well journal,as promised,here I am again,I am finding this morning very good fun and immensely pleasurable,our home is still silent,my wife and our canine children are still fast asleep,and my bionic ears remain for now in their respective cases.Whilst I was in the kitchen making fresh coffee,I glanced out of the window and saw a small bird sitting on the fence,this simple thing brought back to my mind an incident from my past,and,as I usually do with such things,I write them down.When I was in my mid twenties and still living in Scotland,I had a friend called Peter,now Peter was much older than I,at the time of this story he would be in his mid forties.Peter had a pet,a small green and white budgerigar called Sparky,Peter loved Sparky very much,Sparky was the most intelligent budgerigar I had ever come into contact with,he played cards,seriously!. When Peter went to his local bar he always took Sparky along too,he would proudly demonstrate Sparky's skills to any interested party,of which there were always many.Peter would deal five cards face down to Sparky,who always watched this process with his head cocked to one side in concentration,then he would deal himself two cards,and a hand of Texas hold 'em was in play.Peter would call his bet to Sparky,and Sparky would dutifully turn over two cards,Peter would call his second bet and Sparky would turn over the third card.Now,depending on whether Peter continued to bet or folded,I do hope your following this,Sparky would do one of two things,if Peter called a bet,Sparky would turn over the final two cards,if he folded,Sparky would hop on to the rim of Peter's beer mug leaving the final two cards face down.I saw him perform this trick literally hundreds of times,and Sparky never did it wrong,he was a wonderful character.Anyway,one night after Peter had returned home from the bar slightly the worse for wear,he neglected to put Sparky back in his cage and fell asleep in his chair.Now Peter had a wife,she was a lovely woman called Maimie,everybody loved Maimie who had a huge heart and would do anything for anybody,unfortunately,the rest of her was as big as her heart,she weighed around twenty three stone,fourteen pounds in one stone,you do the math.To cut a long story short,Maimie took a seat on the sofa,neglecting to look before she deposited her considerable weight upon said article of furniture,after fifteen minutes or so,she noticed that Sparky wasn't in his cage and stood up to look for him;sadly she found him underneath her ample posterior,glassy eyed and with his feathers more than slightly ruffled.Now Maimie must have panicked then,it is the only reason I can come up with for her reason for doing what she did next,knowing how much Peter loved Sparky,and knowing how distraught he would be at his little friend's untimely demise,Maimie decided to play for time until she could muster up the courage to tell her husband what had happened.What did she do?,she stuck Sparky's little feet to the perch in his cage with clear sticky tape,brilliant or what?. Now you would think that was the end of this sad tale,yes?,oh no,far from it;when Peter woke up the next morning with the hangover from hell,he failed to notice that Sparky wasn't his usual bouncy little self,in fact he put fresh food and water in his cage and then informed his wife that he was going to the bar for a hair of the dog.Now Maimie had been thinking on her feet,which was a tremendous accomplishment given her size,and had stocked up on Peter's preferred tipple in an effort to keep him at home,she succeeded,which was something that,sadly, Sparky was now unable to do,suck seeds that is.I should mention that along with his fondness for an alcoholic libation or two,my friend Peter was also addicted to a cough mixture called Benelyn,a heady brew which,if consumed in large enough quantity,produced a sense of mild euphoria in the imbiber,and so,for the next three days,Maimie kept Peter in a state of near coma,thus rendering him incapable of noticing that his treasured little buddy had expired.Midway through the third day of Sparky's passing,Peter remarked to Maimie that Sparky didn't seem to be himself,and,as if by magic,the tape which had secured Sparky to his perch lost it's adhesive quality,and Sparky toppled off his roosting spot,and fell lifeless to the floor of his cage.Peter was understandably grief stricken as Maimie reached in and retrieved Sparky from his cage,giving her the opportunity to remove the tell tell tape from the little fellows feet as she did so.Anyway,after a very sombre funeral ceremony in the front garden where Sparky was finally laid to rest,the official cause of death was recorded as natural causes.To this very day,as far as I am led to believe,Peter remembers Sparky on the anniversary of his death every year with a small liquid refreshment,and nobody has the heart to tell him that his remembrance ceremony is actually three days too late.Well journal,I must away from here,I have thoroughly enjoyed my time here with you this morning,let us pray that the rest of the day continues in the same joyful manner,until next time then,peace be in our hearts and in our homes.
"Is that a lump in your kilt Scotty,or is your sporran"
stiff with cold!
In my imagination,on the way to meet a plane,
I thought I'd wear my kilt,just to melt your heart again,
but as I walked along the road,some people grew quite bold,
and asked,"is that a lump,or is your sporran stiff with cold?",
I tried to change my thoughts,and think of what I'd like to say,
as I met you at the airport,and you turned to walk my way,
but in my mind I knew,that in my kilt there was a fold,
then a boy said,"hey,is that a lump,or is your sporran stiff with cold?",
In my minds eye I grew frantic,as I tried to hide my shame,
for by this time my sporran,sure was causing me some pain,
but as I passed a store,where lots of different things were sold,
a lady asked,"is that a lump;or is your sporran stiff with cold?",
Then suddenly I reached it,the airport where you'd be,
and in my imagination,I could feel relief for me,
but as we met,and you looked down,before our hands could hold,
you said,"is that a lump,or is your sporran stiff with cold?".
see what I mean journal?,but at least it got her on the plane!. The rest,as they say,is history,today,though we sometimes have our moments,we are,for the most part,happy basking in our respective love for each other.The kilt mentioned has since sadly disappeared,and the absence of a lumpy sporran in our lives has not lessened our relationship one iota.Now my coffee mug is empty and whilst I replenish it with fresh nectar,I shall conjugate further if I wish to continue with this mornings claptrap,I shall return.Well journal,as promised,here I am again,I am finding this morning very good fun and immensely pleasurable,our home is still silent,my wife and our canine children are still fast asleep,and my bionic ears remain for now in their respective cases.Whilst I was in the kitchen making fresh coffee,I glanced out of the window and saw a small bird sitting on the fence,this simple thing brought back to my mind an incident from my past,and,as I usually do with such things,I write them down.When I was in my mid twenties and still living in Scotland,I had a friend called Peter,now Peter was much older than I,at the time of this story he would be in his mid forties.Peter had a pet,a small green and white budgerigar called Sparky,Peter loved Sparky very much,Sparky was the most intelligent budgerigar I had ever come into contact with,he played cards,seriously!. When Peter went to his local bar he always took Sparky along too,he would proudly demonstrate Sparky's skills to any interested party,of which there were always many.Peter would deal five cards face down to Sparky,who always watched this process with his head cocked to one side in concentration,then he would deal himself two cards,and a hand of Texas hold 'em was in play.Peter would call his bet to Sparky,and Sparky would dutifully turn over two cards,Peter would call his second bet and Sparky would turn over the third card.Now,depending on whether Peter continued to bet or folded,I do hope your following this,Sparky would do one of two things,if Peter called a bet,Sparky would turn over the final two cards,if he folded,Sparky would hop on to the rim of Peter's beer mug leaving the final two cards face down.I saw him perform this trick literally hundreds of times,and Sparky never did it wrong,he was a wonderful character.Anyway,one night after Peter had returned home from the bar slightly the worse for wear,he neglected to put Sparky back in his cage and fell asleep in his chair.Now Peter had a wife,she was a lovely woman called Maimie,everybody loved Maimie who had a huge heart and would do anything for anybody,unfortunately,the rest of her was as big as her heart,she weighed around twenty three stone,fourteen pounds in one stone,you do the math.To cut a long story short,Maimie took a seat on the sofa,neglecting to look before she deposited her considerable weight upon said article of furniture,after fifteen minutes or so,she noticed that Sparky wasn't in his cage and stood up to look for him;sadly she found him underneath her ample posterior,glassy eyed and with his feathers more than slightly ruffled.Now Maimie must have panicked then,it is the only reason I can come up with for her reason for doing what she did next,knowing how much Peter loved Sparky,and knowing how distraught he would be at his little friend's untimely demise,Maimie decided to play for time until she could muster up the courage to tell her husband what had happened.What did she do?,she stuck Sparky's little feet to the perch in his cage with clear sticky tape,brilliant or what?. Now you would think that was the end of this sad tale,yes?,oh no,far from it;when Peter woke up the next morning with the hangover from hell,he failed to notice that Sparky wasn't his usual bouncy little self,in fact he put fresh food and water in his cage and then informed his wife that he was going to the bar for a hair of the dog.Now Maimie had been thinking on her feet,which was a tremendous accomplishment given her size,and had stocked up on Peter's preferred tipple in an effort to keep him at home,she succeeded,which was something that,sadly, Sparky was now unable to do,suck seeds that is.I should mention that along with his fondness for an alcoholic libation or two,my friend Peter was also addicted to a cough mixture called Benelyn,a heady brew which,if consumed in large enough quantity,produced a sense of mild euphoria in the imbiber,and so,for the next three days,Maimie kept Peter in a state of near coma,thus rendering him incapable of noticing that his treasured little buddy had expired.Midway through the third day of Sparky's passing,Peter remarked to Maimie that Sparky didn't seem to be himself,and,as if by magic,the tape which had secured Sparky to his perch lost it's adhesive quality,and Sparky toppled off his roosting spot,and fell lifeless to the floor of his cage.Peter was understandably grief stricken as Maimie reached in and retrieved Sparky from his cage,giving her the opportunity to remove the tell tell tape from the little fellows feet as she did so.Anyway,after a very sombre funeral ceremony in the front garden where Sparky was finally laid to rest,the official cause of death was recorded as natural causes.To this very day,as far as I am led to believe,Peter remembers Sparky on the anniversary of his death every year with a small liquid refreshment,and nobody has the heart to tell him that his remembrance ceremony is actually three days too late.Well journal,I must away from here,I have thoroughly enjoyed my time here with you this morning,let us pray that the rest of the day continues in the same joyful manner,until next time then,peace be in our hearts and in our homes.
Replies