(musings upon a mind in freefall) to keep intruders at bay she carries a leper bell sings songs of debauchery and careless devotion ensuring the wild-eyed peasants keep a distance if only she knew the pace at which the stimulant ethereal legacies afford when left as keepsakes if only, if only she knew that one … More THE NEGATIONS OF LUNACY
“How does one balance the subjectivity of ethics, of incorruptibility, against the primeval, innate response to the simplicity of human touch now that he understands desire? Now that he has an appetite for more of the same?” Simple enough questions to answer were she an adept physiologist. Regrettably, she is not. One thing is for … More OUT OF HARMS WAY
(a muse upon human destruction of each other and Mother Earth) her privileged refuge, a diminished station on an island illusion, up high in the beyond through a telescope mounted upon tripod picking out gaps inside the crepuscular rays an impatient sun had lacerated, ripped open in the cloak of meandering, anorexic clouds she surveys … More UNDER THE MARE’S TAIL
In times of war there is no such thing as a fashionable venue. Fortunately, the long years of combat were at last over. Sadly, and of dire necessity in the fall of 1944 during the month-long bombardment in order to gain access to the port facilities at Antwerp, The Allies had, albeit successfully, pounded the … More A MINOR COMPLICATION
I have a pile of mostly irksome ‘periphery of life’ bits and pieces I have let build up to mammoth proportions to attend to as a matter of mundane urgency. The net result is that I need to escape under the blogging radar for a week or two, otherwise I will find myself crushed under … More A SHORT BREAK FROM BLOGGING
SHEHANNE MOORE’S CENTRAL HEATING PUMP “Well Shehanne, luv…or may I call you Shey…I can? Nice one. Thanks for the cuppa. I must say strong tea, when combined with a generous slice of your very own homemade Dundee Cake provides a real treat for the taste buds, although inevitably the cake doesn’t dunk like what my … More JONNY CATAPULT – THE PLUMBER THE ROMANTIC NOVELISTS ALL TRUST
the day after the day after heroic, not as yet battle weary Northumbrians and circumspect trundling, rumbling Cromwell tanks liberate a barely blemished Bayeux embroidered tapestry reflecting perhaps a more advantageous Norman fray, pristine, still intact was the day she cast aside all conceivable apprehension let weakest knees carry her to the conceivably oldest of … More TEA ROSES & A CURTSY
