Category Archives: Silliness

A Realm Beyond Comprehension and a Shortish List

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Iawoke realising that I had failed. Not only had I failed in my mission to become an internationally acclaimed artist with medals and an OBE, but I had also failed in my attempt to achieve world peace.

‘There is still time.’ Whispered a distant voice from a realm beyond comprehension.
‘You’re optimistic,’ I replied, strangely unperturbed by this new aural phenomenon, ‘my deadline is 21st November 2045, I only have 23 years and a bit and then the crowds will descend on Mogwash village hall expecting some kind of spectacle/experience/miracle/wonderment/world peace/artistic extravaganza [delete as applicable].’

The distant voice offered no further advice so I heaved myself out of bed and decided that today would be the day that I would start to get things done. I had to be positive, I had been dribbling stupor for long enough, and maybe the distant voice had a point – there was time – so I washed, dressed, ate a bowl of gruel, and hauled myself up to my garret at the bottom of the garden.

My garret was much as I left it, though a bit more dusty. On my desk was a list [please see exhibit A]

After removing a pile of books from my chair, I sat, and tried to gaze out the window – I couldn’t, it was far too grubby so I added ‘clean window’ to the list.
It appeared that I had my work cut out, or at least written down. But there was something I’d forgotten – something very important, and I swear I could hear the words: Did I win yet? being typed on a keyboard. My reverie was interrupted when I felt a cool presence brush against my left elbow, and from the sound of glass bottles rattling in a cardboard crate. This was all rather startling, but even more so because of the Blackbird  standing on the bottles with its wings outstretched in a cormorant pose, as if perched on a groyne. There was only one thing I could do in the face of such terrorism, I passed out, hitting my head on my desk as I slowly slumped to the floor.

To be continued over the cusp.

Too many Daisies….

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Iseldom speak of the day when I pranced around in a field in nothing more than a badly fitting nightie, whilst chanting repetitively for 6 hours and 43 minutes. Friends and family considered my behaviour to be environmental folly with a strong whiff of self-indulgent twaddle, and also extremely irritating, but they didn’t have my vision, or know a film producer with 45 acres of hemp.

For the first time ever my friends and family were correct, my behaviour was completely out of character, and my vision a little bit blurred. To start with I would never wear a nightie because fleece lined pyjamas are my nightwear of choice; and I would never trample wild flowers underfoot. Judging by my embarrassed demeanour and glazed expression I can only imagine that I was coerced to drone on endlessly about daisies in such a tedious fashion, for which I can only apologise. Perhaps I had entered some kind of bizarre beauty pageant to become Little Ms Ditzy 1978. Who knows? Let us never speak of this incident again.

I mean, it might look divine to prance through long grass bare foot with a daisy chain wrapped around your head, but trust me, it isn’t, well not unless you’re some kind of wide eyed bovine. The ground in a field is uneven, it is lumpen, often soggy, and strewn with cowpats. And please be aware that bare legs and a flimsy white garment will offer no protection from tics, snakes, and creepy-crawlies such as red ants, wasps, horse-flies, and hornets. I would recommend sturdy boots and insect repellent for anyone intent on trampling through the undergrowth. Never wear white as it attracts storm flies – well most flies to be honest – and also mud. Finally, never sit in a tree in your nightie as this situation is ripe for an unfortunate ending.
As I said, Let us never speak of this incident again.

This has been some kind of public information broadcast about the perils of wearing unsuitable clothing in the British countryside, brought to you by someone who has learnt the hard way.

Thank you, and have a well attired Bank Holiday Weekend.

Of Unicorns and Boobs

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Phew! Wot a scorcher, etc, etc… I am a day late with my promised post, apologies, but I am still wafting aimlessly, and playing around with my curtains/windows as per my last post. It is exhausting.

And, speaking of my last post, Mr Mags enquired about the background paper that I use in my collage photographs. It is this:-

Back in 2012, or thereabouts, I decided it would be a challenge to paint some text from my favourite book – a book that always makes me laugh until tears are streaming down my cheeks and I am reduced to a hiccuping mess on the floor. It is this book:-


I originally bought it for my Dad when I was about 10, and didn’t quite understand it like I understand it today. It is a collection of misprints from the world’s press. And I can’t even read the cover without snorting and getting a stitch in my side.

The clipping I was trying to paint was this one:-

I will zoom in…

I was trying to paint it so that I captured the print quality, and failed miserably. Sadly, today’s press is digital and therefore news-sites are less likely to make such comical errors, however this didn’t stop me from reading this morning that Unicorns Warn on Cost of Living Crisis….

A tune, I think, with a seventies vibe…

A bit of sky….

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Oh my goodness, I have posted nothing since May! How did this happen? I apologise. I have been busy perfecting being lazy by sitting on my sofa doing absolutely nothing other than complaining about the weather and worrying about the state of the world.
I can do nothing about the world. Or the weather.

BUT….it seems, I CAN take photographs of the sky….

From dark and brooding….

April…

…to mysterious…

…clearing to blue…

And let us not forget the ground under my feet….

From lush green….

….to meadow flowers…

…and a swathe of yellow!

I will try harder in July to bring you uplifting posts – yes, hopefully more than one post!!
I have Pierce Brosnan in the wings; something a little Scottish; some calligraphy; and maybe a lot more hot air.

Tough But Gentle Too…… [2022 Edition]

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Ihave often wondered what it would be like to be a mum. According to Persil being a mum involves doing a lot of laundry, and not being able to afford pretty hats. Persil’s centenary ad [2007] features Marion, a single mother of two sons, and five daughters. Marion has just been mugged for the last packet of Birds Eye fish fingers and she is now lying prostrate in the washing powder aisle in Asda; her whole life is flickering before her like a series of old TV commercials.
Marion’s five daughters never needed much care – they never got grubby, and all were born with an innate understanding of intelligent dosing and how to handle excessive foam – it was in their jeans. The girls were neatly washed and scrubbed and dispensed out into the world shortly after their fourteenth birthdays. Unfortunately, Marion’s two sons, now 45 and 48 respectively, still live at home, and neither has the ability to set foot outside the house without being covered in mud/strawberry milkshake/banana/Bacardi/lipstick or baby oil. And, even though both became quantum physicists, neither have ever mastered the art of how to pour Persil into the soap powder drawer. Instead they have learnt that the laundry room is out of bounds – it is their mother’s secret, private, place where they must never venture – curiosity may leave them badly scolded.
Marion is tough but gentle and knows where, and how, to seek Comfort. Sometimes late at night the ‘boys’ hear the rumbling of the much loved washing machine accompanied by their mother’s squeals of delight as she deals with stain after stain whilst also making good use of the extra spin cycle.
Regaining consciousness, Marion smiles to herself… to hell with pretty hats…. the rewards of motherhood come thick and fast depending on the washing program.

First published on The Scarlet Blue Archive 13th May 2009 – edited and revised 2022

Bursting in at Bedtime?

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Time for a new, and possibly vague post, and what could be more fitting than a comforting little bed-jacket, hmmmm?

To be fair I think this lady is better equipped for critical girlfriends bursting into the sleeping chamber unannounced…

I have some exciting news [especially for Rimpy] – the FGES have arrived in the US and are safely in the hands of Mistress Maddie. I am wondering if there is a FGES curse, as those who win them seem to go to ground at the very sight of them, and sometimes the winners are never seen again. Let’s hope this isn’t the case with Maddie.
Along with the shorts I also sent Maddie a little something that was sort of British. I should have sent Devonshire scones with jam and cream – or at least a picture of this produce, but I made a collage instead.

Meanwhile – HAPPY EASTER!!!!! Have a wonderful weekend and if you intend on spending time in the garden please remember to protect yourself with a substantial 4 ply woollen.

P.S Please ignore the top ‘feature’ picture, as this is for the benefit of Mr Devine, he has left his blog unattended, and this is what happens if you leave your blog without the necessary security. I’m crossing my fingers that his sideboard will be disturbed, which will prompt him to at least pop by for a little light dusting.

NEXT WEEK: Easter bonnets, or woollen swimming caps? You decide!!!