I've been a pondering further as to what the new royal heir to the chair would consider as a nom de plumage for a future majestic reign.
Just because the new baby
prince is called George doesn't mean he has to stick with it for ever
and ever, for all reality, especially in the event he becomes King.
I kinda fink a King Louis has a real get up and jive sound for tomorrow's monarchy, but then again... who knows. Life is like an unfinished script, always open to interpretation, editing and restructuring.
Last week, on a train heading home, I latched on to a distant conversation between a pair of Cambridge University students whiling away the miles with general chit-chat about life in and outside of their different colleges. One was on his way home to Moscow, the other a geography student going who knows where, but she thought it would probably include a two week family holiday somewhere in Italy.
After the polite chap had listened intently to the young lady rattle out a few Italian sounding place names he asked if she knew Row-des.
Nope, it seemed the geography student had never heard of Row-des.
“It’s the big Greek island”.
Ahh… That Rho-des! Gotcha, mate!
The geography student still had no idea.
Through highly experienced powers of deduction and an old fashioned CSE in geography, the answer seemed somewhat elementary. Sometimes it’s not what people say, but the way information is heard that makes the difference in correlating the details with the desired facts. Well, that’s what this wannabe writer and serial eavesdropper who went to the University of Life surmised.
“The trouble is”, said the geography student, “we don’t actually study where places are”. Obviously… I pondered, as she continued to tunnel her way past the sediment of an unfortunate miss-understanding.
“Just because we do a lot of colouring in on maps, people think we know where places are.”
Erm… Just cos I write a lot of words people think I’m writing a book, now where are me crayons?
Or more specifically, what does a cowboy keep in his pockets?
Ha! No need to ponder, I got the evidence right here, and
before any accusations start flying, Mister Valance willingly parted with his
pants. Before I could give 'em a hot soak and spin, in me laundry appliance, I had to empty his pockets. No such joy on downsizing them, those pants were made to withstand the utmost of turbulences, and
I’m sure they been through more beastings than me utility machine could
Anyhow, as I likes to fink I’m a lady, most of the time, I’ll keep
me findings to meself for now, but if you want to hazard a guest as to what I
may, or may not, have found in Mister Valance very deep pockets, feel free to
“Do me a favor”, that flammin' Cowboy said, and yep... there was definitely
summit missing in his favour.
“Gimme yer dress”, he said. Defrocked, I was, in the blink
of a whiskey chaser. I should’ve
listened to me mother.
Heavens above don’t even know what he wanted wiv it, but I ain’t
too happy at the countless encounters I’m coming across facing the butt of a
half cocked weapon pointing at some one else’s mistakes. Now what the hell have
yer done wiv me frock, Valance?
Here’s me number, but don’t expect anything more than a hug or a smooch until you’ve enticed me with some food for thought.
Well, that was a quick summary of a conversation earlier today that revolved around a girlie take on life as a singleton with blinkers on. You see, I been told me flirting abilities are pretty good, but I see the wink, wink, nod, nods as approval to me sense of humour, not a springboard to me boudoir. Being a friendly gal, who tends to dig herself in deep when it comes to the artefacts of life, I’d like a wee bit more spelling out, 'cause I can’t always read the show not tell when its right in front of me. So, me finks its time to take a step back, do a spot a pondering, and see if things get any clearer.
High ho silver lining, no matter where I roam, this Sunday, the sun has gotta come shining one day!
After the rain, sleet and snow comes the sunshine. Yep, it’s sunny down south and I’m planning to ponder out on me perch today. Well, that’s the plan once I’ve started the creative cogs turning with a couple of ideas regarding wireless pursuits.
Thanks to DAB radio, the golden age of wireless has not totally disappeared, and visual nostalgics, even in the pre-pensionable age bracket, still have hands-on memories of space invaders that were at the forefront of a couch potato’s gaming revolution. Life seems to be moving at such a fast pace, today, and leading me to ponder as to what future memories will consist of?
“Do you remember your first download; do you still have it?”
“Where did you buy”; whatever; “can’t remember it was on the internet”!
Whatever is that materialistic immaterial world I see in front of me with school days, first loves and best friends all in the same social media holding tank as brief acquaintances.
Ok, so all this technical gadgetry means we can keep the images, but memories are what stirs the soul and go beyond what the eye can see. Going back, we had inventions and revolutions, now we only have developments based on yesteryear’s breakthroughs. What next for human-kind?
Erm… Me finks I’m gonna take a temporary leave of absence and make the most of the blue skies with a meander down to the beach.
Whilst pondering on the whereabouts of a State of Bliss, I looked up and out thru the window, and lo and behold, there it was!
Every morning I count meself extremely lucky that I have a picture perfect window. Whatever the weather, as long as it ain’t too blustery, the hatches are opened up every day and I’m more than happy to sit and ponder at the horizon before me. But sometimes, a little something goes adrift and I can never find what may have been displaced, cos I don’t know what I’m looking for, not that I’ve lost anything I really need. Just once in a wee while me senses send me searching.
The question to ponder further is… If I can’t find it, can I live without it?