I've Thumbed A Ride...

...On the Poetry Bus! Not too sure of the etiquette, but I heard its revving engine and before I knew it, I'd hopped on board. Apparently, to purchase a ticket, passengers have to write a poem on a given subject, which this week centres around 'Signposts'. So here's my special rate, OAP fare for a Sunday runabout through the lanes of Blogland.

What Next?

The sign on the post just says 'Footpath'.
I think someone's having a laugh.
There's nothing ahead but a big field of grass
where surely no right minded person would pass
without a large map and a compass.                      

There's a dodgy old style to climb over,
and no sign of a green, four-leafed clover.
If this is the country, then give me the town
with people and traffic that roars up and down -
till it stops and gives rise to an impasse!

Oh, no! Now its raining and that's the last straw!
The pastoral scene is more dire than before
when the heavens are pissing all over the place
and the weeds grab your feet in their loving embrace.
The countryside's gift is a real coupe de grâce.

************************************************

On a completely different tack, after so many of you had commented on the word 'Thwock' in my post about the delights of Wimbledon, I was a trifle non-plussed to discover, thanks to Google, that the Urban Dictionary gave this as a slang term for penis. This knowledge caused one bright spark called Christine to email me with the following ditty, which I feel obliged to share, as it's too clever to pass unnoticed!

In Blogland we must not defrock
A blogger for innocent use of t****k
The reaction should not be to jeer
For working the onomatopoeia

Collins, Oxford, Chambers too
Provide on t****k no simple clue
They all record the feisty thwack
To mean a thump, or bat or smack

In pursuit of beauty we all strive
Keeping our lyrical language alive
You shouldn't snigger or snort or mock
When ladies of letters throw in a t****k

Eureka!

Eureka is an exclamation used as an interjection to celebrate a discovery. It comes from the Ancient Greek, Εὕρηκα/Ηὕρηκα - Heurēka/Hēurēka, meaning approximately 'I have found it'.

Just now I found the following lines tucked into a folder, and thought I'd share them today, ready for the next time you feel as though everything is going wrong!


Good Advice For A Bad Day 


If one day you toss a pancake 
and it flips upon your head
and makes you feel that probably 
you should have stayed in bed;
or if passing under ladders 
leads to accidents, unplanned,
don't start to imagine 
that you're voodooed out of hand.

Although life can be fickle 
and sometimes throws a punch
that knocks you, for no reason, 
so hard you hear the crunch,
stick out your chin and take it 
to prove that you are tough,
and don't collapse and wither 
'cause the going has got rough.
Laugh at silly mishaps 
and see the funny side,
say rhubarb to the sceptics - 
say you came just for the ride!
Show you are a sterner mix 
than jelly or marshmallow.
Soon everyone will slap the back 
of such a jolly fellow.

Playing The Game

Anyone For Tennis?

Wimbledon fortnight, white lines on green
where players bat balls,and let loose their spleen
as they battle each other, testing unseen
reserve stores of energy...Know what I mean?

The 'Thwock' of each stroke: the rise and the fall
of the crowds approbation (they applaud one and all!):
the umpire's voice as he makes a good call
to dispel any doubt, "That's a good ball!"

These are the sounds that fly through the air,
chasing the aces. They lead to despair
in the soul of the player who, tearing his hair,
misses a shot for not being there

in quite the position to return a serve
with all the aplomb that he keeps in reserve
for just such a moment.Though he doesn't loose nerve
but bounces right back with vigour and verve.

When I wrote these words yesterday I had no idea how apt the last two lines would be as an epitaph at the end of a day in which records were broken in the most dramatic manner. Isner and Mahut, who began playing at two o'clock on Tuesday, had to resume play on Wednesday after nightfall had stopped  their game at two sets each. But exactly the same thing happened again Thursday, and , after a ten hour epic battle, they finally reached a score of  59 - 59 in the fifth set before waining light  once more halted the game... I can't wait for them to resume play this afternoon.

You can watch the video here, if you have the time and the patience!  http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/tennis/8757259.stm 

Post Script: Isner has finally won at 70 games to 68 in the fifth set, after playing a game which lasted 11 hours 5 minutes, and the Tennis Association present the players and the umpire with special awards in recognition of their achievements.

Summer Solstice

I heard a news reader mention Stonehenge this morning, and the idea of this being the longest day has rooted itself in my mind. It has given me  a false sense of security, but I now realise the afternoon has crept up on me, complete with all the annual delights of The Wimbledon Tennis Championships. No prizes for guessing what I shall be doing as soon as I've clicked publish!

I shall therefore beg your forgiveness for being AWOL, but will leave you with the result of my Sunday's playtime, when I sat and dreamed of where I would like to be...

One Step Forwards, Two Steps Back

This is what seems to have happened this morning. When I sat at the keyboard, I couldn't stop my mind from seeing the illustration I posted two days ago, on Thursday. It had come out of nowhere, part of a larger Paint doodle experiment that, once on screen, I decided to crop. Rather than my imagination making IT, IT made my imagination see its potential - if you can understand the distinction. 

But that was not the end of it. After some more playing, I had completely altered the whole feel of the thing by simply intensifying the colours. like so:-

With two versions of the same thing for me to cogitate, I began asking myself "What's the real difference?" On one level, the answer had to be "None."
But part of me cannot agree with this statement. I believe that the theoretical Time of Day is the point at which they become separated. The first has an early morning feel, the second a brash, noon time brilliance.

I wonder what you think?

Morning And Noon

Morning light dances with graceful steps
across the distant hills, sprinkles the sea
with starry,diamond points. Like grains of gold
they ride the wavelets lapping on the shore,
and add their gleaming to the waiting sand.
What better natural partnerships are found
than sky and sun above bright sea and sand?

But noon intensifies both heat and light
and burns the scene upon each wondering mind
even as  branding irons leave their mark
of ownership on unsuspecting flanks.
So our senses bear the mark of beauty
once seen, a vivid blessing given freely
by a universe beyond our knowing.

Because It's Friday

Today there will be a lot of people visiting Mr Know It All to offer up their words of Flash Fiction for Friday. Thanks to a comment made by Rinkly Rimes on my previous post, I got a flash of inspiration to join in the shenanigans again myself, so here's mine, all 55 of them!


Tongue Tied?

"Its on the tip of my tongue", we say.
Don't let it get away.
Spit out those words
that we've not heard -
let's hear them all today!  

You may have something special
that's waiting to get out,
so let it loose,
give it a whirl -
maybe with a shout?   

But first, I'll block my ears!

A Thoughtful Thursday

  

Legacy

Inspiration comes unasked; it seems
to blossom freely when and where it will.
We grasp it eagerly, a passing dream
which lights our darkest night and makes us thrill

with great anticipation. With the dawn
a nascent thought may turn into reality.
We artists, labouring till our child be born,          
invest it with a spark of true humanity

as we interpret with our brush or pen
its fleeting image, transcribed on a page.
If lost, such ideas may not come again,
but, once ensnared, continue to engage

the mind. And who can tell how long a time
life's pulse will live in picture or in rhyme?   

All Change

Life itself is all about change, but when it comes to computer programmes, the word change takes on a whole new meaning.

Some time ago, I was revelling in the possibilities that my (then) Windows XP version of Paint allowed, and  I created an imaginary scene. I was exploring how to use a mouse to do so, as opposed to my usual, pen, pencil or brush.

The resultant image remained in a folder, going nowhere, but I felt unable to simply delete it, after the time it had taken to create. Yesterday I opened it with Arcsoft, and played with editing options.

The fairytale woodland path you see here was the outcome. I had no idea how it would translate to a blogpage, but translate it did, with a quality all its own.

I think sometimes in our own lives, when changes happen, and we have no idea of the eventual outcome, there is a similar, surprise element as things unfold. Perhaps at such times, we have to allow the Universe to have it's say, and merely follow where it leads. Being open to new possibilities is one of the best gifts change can give us.

Good Morning, Blogland

This is the scene through the square window this morning, playmates - blue skies,  sun, and a brisk, envigorating breeze making the buddleia wave to me. It's nothing new for me to be up with the lark, as the saying goes, but the birds assailing my ears just now were far less poetic. Their rusty cawing sets my teeth on edge and makes me want to rush to the WD40 to oil their vocal chords.


rooks raucous voices
shatter early morning calm
disturbing sunshine

Thanks For The Feedback, People

And especially AC, for pointing out the advantages of using Verdana as a font for Blogpages. I see its capital 'I' has its own chunky serifs, which identify it more easily when it's followed by a lower case 'l' - a fact which would placate Rhymes With Plague, Mr Brague, and his 'Illinois' readability argument. I tend to agree with him, that a serifed font is often easier to read, and I may well revert to my first choice, Georgia, for my posts at some point in the future.

From experience, I know glitches are to be expected when Blogger is trying anything new! I'm quite happy being a guinea pig, who can then pass on anything I've learned- like the fact that, if you are trying to alter the colour of your Post Title within the design feature, you won't find the option under the 'Advance' label for Post Design! Too straightforward! It is apparently controlled by your choice of  'Links' colourways! Bizarre, but okay once you have it sussed, I suppose.

Blogger's 'Compose' page seems to be coping with translating everything to my chosen design features, so that's a plus, and has thereby removed the pressing need for using Live Writer. (Sorry son - after all your hard work, too!)

Or maybe not!  Trying to give you a calm, happy Buddha to contemplate, should your frustrations be showing, I have encountered a whole new set of imponderables which Blogger has thrust upon me. I now can't wait to see what a hash he's made of this composition today, once I dare to push the post button. I may need to do a lot of pondering on Buddha myself before the morning is out...

Right!  I'm taking a deep breath, heading mousewards to the publish post button, and here goes...

The Verdict Is Still Out

On Blogger's new design feature...

I have just reset the 'old' to the 'updated' editor on Blogger Basic, and his tiny mind is obviously overloaded and shocked at the change. I hope he will calm down eventually.

Meantime, there is a particularly annoying flaw that has become apparent. I wanted to change the post's typeface from Gorgia to Arial, but Blogger has, in patches, tenaciously held on to my original choice. Now I've clicked on 'remove formatting' option as that seemed a good place to start, but the result has been diddly-squat as far as I can tell at the moment. When I finally decide to push publish, I shall be holding my breath. If my blog looks like a compositor's nightmare for a while, I apologise in advance. I may be back later today, once I see what has happened to this mini moan post... Onwards and upwards!

Just a few minutes later...

Hip hip hooray! I must have done something right. Now I've checked, and Arial it is on this post proper. No excuse now for not getting back to some creative blogging - except that  I am a lazy cow it is Sunday morning, and the brain is in freefall weekend mode.

Even Stevens

 I thought today I would share a photo of my adorable No.1 Daughter in her mermaid finery. It's a good excuse for introducing today's dose of Tales From Jinksy's Past, and after posting one of No. 1 Son, is only fair.What was the occasion? A street party! But I can't tell you which one, for we ended up having three all together- one before, one during and one after the Queen's Jubilee Year. Our Close didn't like doing things by halves...We had a proper,party committee, and no details were overlooked.

The first year, I was in charge of the flag making crew, I remember, which was probably why, rather than all boring pennants, we made several flags shaped like knickers and pants, and spent a hilarious evening stringing them together, ready for the chaps to hang them from house to house across the road. They did stirling work, (the flags, not the chaps)for they survived all three of the shindigs! Though come to think of it, the chaps did stirling work too, as well as us chap-esses.

The police allowed us to close the Close (!) for the day, and we had an early start getting everything ready. One householder set up a sound system in his front garden, another turned her garage into a silver, bacofoil-lined, Grotto Bar, and a conjurer and a Punch and Judy man were booked for the afternoon, once the fancy dress parade (adults and children!) had finished.

Daughter's costume was so tight fitting she couldn't walk properly once she was in it, and a kindly neighbour carried her to the judging area at the appointed time. You can just see his shoulder being clutched...And yes, that is one of two scallop shells there - I used them to make a wonderful bikini top for my little mermaid.

By mid afternoon, trestle tables line up on the grass, groaned with the food we'd prepared, and the party really got going, with organised games, then fun, feasting and frolic late into the night.

I wonder how many of you have celebrated an occasion in such grand, communal style?!

Evesdropping?

I do believe Blogger has been listening to my threats of decamping to Windows Live Writer to compose my posts, for what should appear before me today, but a new 'design' option on my dashboard! Being one of life's curiosity cats, I had to explore, and have been cajoled to click me some clicks and alter the mix...as is now apparent on my blogpage. (Well, it is showing as changed on my computer- I have yet to see whether you all get the new, wide screen version of jinksy jabber as well. I don't trust Blogger quite yet...I wonder why?!)

The excitement of a new look has gone to my head, and my ditty box has already churned out a little something on Fridge Soup, so may I direct you to it's cauldron, if you wish to sample today's tasty morsel of doggerel, jinksy style...I feel like I'm hatching...

How’s this for a happy face?

Say hello to my Number.1 Son who is now much grown!

This is by way of my saying a big thank to him, for guiding me through the delights of installing Live Writer this evening, while I was busy eating my dinner.

In all probability, I will be picking his brains again before too long, for who wouldn’t choose to make the most of an IT guru when they have one for a relation?

But I little thought when I took this photo of his merry little face with it’s mop of curls, that he’d grow to into such a knowledgeable person, in what now seems to have been the twinkling of an eye. Am I a proud Mum? Not half!

You Need Feet To Walk To Scunthorpe

So says a song recorded by Bernard Bresslaw many moons ago. What it fails to mention is the fact that you would also need a pair of comfortable shoes.

This morning I have been taking photos of a pair of Birkenstocks which fall far short of my required comfort scale. One has a pleat in the leather lining in the exact location of my big toe joint, and despite my wearing cotton socks, it manages to rub a sore, red place on my foot each time I wear the shoes. I think I've only worn them three times since I got them!

Now I've sent an email winging with a cry for help, and photos attached. I wonder whether NatÜrlich Footshop GmbH customer care services will have any helpful suggestions of how to resolve my problem?

This shows the start of the wrinkly lining, which is building up to a crescendo by the time it reaches the area in line with my toe joint! Honesty bids me add the left shoe is absolutely fine, but unless I can learn to walk on one leg, the pair of shoes will remain in my no-go area.

***A kind of afterthought...here's a ditty I've just written, for good measure!***

When cavemen were wandering round and about,
I guess their bare feet must have let out a shout
when they walked on a pebble or rock that was sharp,
until one decided it might be a lark
to invent clothes for tootsies as fast as can be.
But who named these shoes, is a mystery to me.

What ever you call them, suffice it to say,
we can't do without them in our modern day
where cities and towns, with their mud, grit or soot,
mean no one with sense would walk there barefoot.

More Of The Same?

Can anybody tell me the name of this blue and purple delight? It blooms twice a year, and manages to eke out an existence in the cracks between the paving slabs in my so called garden, where it self seeded, just to surprise me.

I thought today, that I'd stick with a colourway which compliments my crochet, you see!

Ho Hum!

All Change!

Heaven be praised that crochet can be
so very adaptable, because you see
the project I started has come to a halt.
Not, I assure you, because of a fault

on the part on the stitches or pattern as such,
but simply because it does not please me much!
My aesthetic sense has begun to rebel,
and my urge to continue is waning as well.



The fabric’s too bulky, too hefty and stiff,
so I plan to sideline it with never a whiff
of regret at my folly. So, Blogland look out!
It seems as though Jinksy is once more about!

And after this shambolic effort from Blogger, I can see me hotfooting it to Windows Live Writer as fast as my little grey cells will let me go.

A No Post Blogpost

Thanks, people, for apparently missing my waffle. I'm fine! Only thing I'm suffering from is not having more than two hands, or more than 24 hours in a day. I'm sure you all know what it's like?LOL! As soon as I can mimic an octopus or two, I'll be back... Meantime, I'll leave you with a hug...