Ode To Bonnie Bain.

Well, yes, she may be just a cat

And well, yes, a ginger cat at that.

And well, yes, she may flick out a claw

As I step by her on the floor

And well, yes, she never eats

Things I buy in shops as treats

And well, yes, when she sleeps on my knee

If I should move woe-betide me

And well, yes, she may be just a cat

But there’s nothing wrong with that

And when I hear her gently purr

And when I stroke her ginger fur

Oh, what peace, what peace she’ll bring

Bonnie the cat, sweet ginger thing.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Cor blimey! Bleedin’ glad to get the old daisies off. Me plates are killing me. And me ‘ammer too. I’m like a right raspberry I can tell you.

I only walked a couple of miles but it was ‘ard going. Wish I’d taken me ‘addock but Mia the German Shepherd needs her lily white.

Anyway, I’m Pope in Rome now. Get the old kettle on the Conan. Cup of Rosie. Nice Steffi Graf and off to Uncle Ted I reckon.

Of Mice And Men And Offended Women.

“You was that artist, wasn’t you?”

I wasn’t sure if it was a question or an accusation so I hedged my bets by answering with a vague smile.

“Bognor,” he went on, “you had a little ‘ut on the prom?”

“Yes,” I said, “that was me. That was a long time ago.”

“We still got it the picture you did. It’s in the loft somewhere.”

“Oh well, at least you didn’t throw it away,” I said.

“The wife nearly did. She said I looked alright in it but you made ‘er look too young. I wouldn’t let ‘er chuck it though so it’s in the loft somewhere.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” I said.

“You never know I said to ’er, it might be worth something one day.”

“When I’m dead you mean?” I joked, “I hope the mice don’t eat it first.”

“What mice?”

“The mice in your loft.”

Just then his wife approached. “Do you know who this is?” he asked her. Before she could reply he went on, "‘e’s the artist."

“What artist?” she asked, looking at me with a vague smile of confusion.

“‘E done our picture,” he told her, “you didn’t like it of you. Remember? On the sea-front Bognor?"

“What picture? When?” she asked looking at me closely.

“The one in the loft,” he said, “rolled up. ‘E’s the artist.”

Suddenly it dawned on her, “Oh that! No, I didn’t like it. Sorry. Yes, it’s in the loft somewhere.”

“I hope the mice don’t eat it.” I said.

“What mice?” she asked.

“Oh, you know,” I said, “lofts sometimes have mice in them.”

“I don’t think you’ll find any mice in our loft,” she said sounding quite annoyed.

“He told me we had mice in the loft too,” said her husband as they both walked off without even a goodbye.

Later on when I was thinking it over I realised that I didn't care about the picture being in the loft but  being in the loft 'somewhere'? Well, that hurt a bit.

I hope they have got mice in the loft and I hope the mice eat the picture or even better make a nice comfortable nest out of it.

Walking It Off.

Weight loss update.

In the last five days I have walked 18 miles. I have walked for 8 hours and 32 minutes mainly across rough farmland.

In the last 10 days I have lost 8lbs off my target of two stone.

I am not dieting just eating less and walking a lot more. I only have to fight hunger in the evenings.

Just to think that this time last year walking was so painful my son-in-law bought me a mobility scooter. 

In the shower today I looked down and was able to see my willy! 

Sending It And Landing It.

“Oi mister,” a young boy called to me as I walked with Mia the German Shepherd across the playing field today, “I like your dog.”

“Thank you,” I replied, “I think she likes you too?”

“I’m used to big dogs,” he called back running up to us, “I got one identical at ‘ome ‘cept it’s a Rottweiler and something else mix.”

We were then joined by his friend, a lad of the same age about eight or nine. I had seen the two of them practising tumbling head over heels earlier. The new-comer had been particularly fearless in his efforts. “I thought you were very good and brave at the head over heels tumbling,” I told him. On hearing me say this the first little boy bristled.

“He can’t land a back flip though,” he told me indignantly, “he can send it but he’s frightened of landing it in case it goes flat.” Turning to his friend he added, “that’s true ain’t it?” Turning back to me he said, “I can send it and nearly land it and I ain’t scared either.”

“I ain’t scared.” said the other lad quietly and he looked at me earnestly to make sure I knew it.

“Do you want to see me land it?” The first one asked me. Before I had a chance to answer he said, “Watch this mister.” And he did a backward flip landing on his hands and knees. “Nearly,” he said and did another flip this time landing on his feet but with his hands on the ground.

I was by now getting worried that he might break his neck in his attempts to impress me so I congratulated him on his efforts and began to walk away.

“Wait mister, wait,” he said, “I got this. One more go all right?” He positioned himself ready for take-off and swung his arms. Suddenly he stopped and with a look of great concern on his little face he said, “don’t worry if I get it wrong mister okay, it ain’t dangerous.” With that he executed what to my eyes was a perfect flip. “I done it!” he exclaimed, “that’s the first time I ever sent it AND landed it.”

“Excellent,” I told him, “ten out of ten. Well done young man.”

“Is your dog friendly?” asked the other young boy and gave Mia the German Shepherd a pat on the head. “I ain’t scared of landing it mister,” he said conspiratorially and ran off to join his intrepid friend who was heading for the swings.

I continued on my way feeling rather grandfatherly and was pleased that I had learned some gymnastic terminology from the two boys. I also wondered, just for a moment whether I would be able to send and land a back flip.

Do You Like My New Hat?

Sometimes, I just think I will sing a song and make a video recording so that's what I do. Usually it is when the weather is inclement and it is raining hard. Before computers and the world wide web I probably just used to sing to myself. So, you can blame the bloke who invented the web.

Lean Mean Love Machine.

A couple of days ago when calculating the requirements for the pedometer app on my phone I discovered I am about two stone overweight. That is 28lbs. That's like carrying a bag of coal around all the time. Just a small bag, not like in the olden days when bags of coal weighed 56lbs. When men was men! I once worked as a coalman. But 28lb's is still a lot. An unnecessary burden. I am going to cut out potatoes and bread for a week. Do an extra dog walk every day. The weight will fall off  I just hope I don't have to buy a bag of coal before I lose the extra weight. If I lose two stone I shall be able to skip about like a young  gazelle. I have started to lose it already. Had to take my belt in a notch today. Dead chuffed about that. I suppose I shall have to prepare myself for extra attention from the ladies once I have regained the lean, hard, wiry physique they used to lust over? Bring it on!