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August 23, 2009

A Few Things You Need To Know About Elephants and Cows

Filed under: poems for children — Trefor Davies @ 2:00 am

Cows have horns in different places to elephants. Both need to be avoided.

Cows don’t have trunks, elephants do which can come in very handy especially for drinking up buckets of beer and then squirting it at whoever is sitting opposite.

Never try and milk an elephant, it could have fatal results and in any case elephant milk doesn’t go well with tea.

Cows are afraid of tigers but I don’t think elephants are, though I’m not 100% sure on this one.

Cow poo is a different shape to elephant poo and you can’t play bowls with it although it is good as a frisbee once it has dried.

Both cows and elephants can be called Nellie. Norman, however, is an unusual name for both species.

Nellie the cow packed her trunk and said goodbye to the circus – yep that works.

You would never get an elephant flying over the moon though, they’re far too big and heavy and would take too much rocket fuel to get them going.

You can get more people on the back of an elephant provided it is a fully grown adult.

Happy birthday Megsy.

August 22, 2009

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Filed under: miscellany — Trefor Davies @ 6:58 pm

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August 21, 2009

The beginning

Filed under: thoughts,travel — Paulie @ 6:14 am

The beginning

The Americans

Filed under: poems — Paulie @ 5:59 am

After 25 years you’re back they all said; we’ve been waiting.
I’ve been oh so busy my response – weak perhaps.
I can now see how they won the war, again.
I really enjoy American company and always have. Florida is very cosmopolitan but elsewhere less so.
What a great country, makes us look rather insignificant I feel.

August 19, 2009

They went to their doom

Filed under: chinks,poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 8:53 pm

They went to their doom, unknowing
Victims of the modern world,
A destiny predetermined by chance,
Outside their sphere of influence.
There was nothing I could do
As I watched them go by,
And even if I could have communicated,
They would not have been able to respond.
Helpless and oblivious they went on to their fate.
I never saw them again.

August 15, 2009

LEAVE MY CAKE ALONE!

Filed under: poems for children — Trefor Davies @ 2:00 am

Leave my cake alone
I’m keeping it for my tea
If you go and eat it
There’ll be none left for me

Leave my cake alone
I’ve hidden it from my mummy
If she went and found it
It would end up in her tummy

Leave my cake alone
It’s covered in chocolate cream
If you try and lick it
You will surely make me scream

Leave my cake alone
You pastry popping daddy
Coz if you scoff it down
It will make you feel a baddy

Leave my cake alone!

For Stella on her birthday.

August 12, 2009

Has anybody seen my brown shoes?

Filed under: poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 8:27 pm

Has anybody seen my brown shoes?
I want to go out into the street,
And I need something to put on my feet,
Has anybody seen my brown shoes?

The flight of the funkypancake

Filed under: poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 6:46 am

An idea tossed into the air
Gathered momentum,
With spring spurred action,

Test flight looked good,
Filling on form,
Inspection passed,

Bright eyed and open mouthed
The family assembled,
All systems go,

Out of the frying pan
Into the heat
Of the Antipodean summer.

For my funkypancake friend and his family who will know what this is all about.

August 11, 2009

Rare evenings

Filed under: poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 7:54 pm

These are rare evenings.
It’s still, and I’m sat outside the pub
In shorts and shirt sleeves.
The trees are motionless but
Swallows soar and swoop,
Busying themselves,
Though I suspect
Most insects have gone to bed.
I can hear more birds
Talking in the trees.
A murmur emanates from within
And the lights have come on outside
But there is plenty time before the dark dark.
A hairless non stop talker recounts his life
As a musician to a red faced resident,
Listening for the price of a pint.
Cars pass by on the road outside the pub
And occasionally one pulls in.
A Land Rover that leaves its boot open
To cool the dog inside, presumably.
A man leans against his van,
Doesn’t want a drink
But talks on his mobile phone.
The blue sky deepens
A contrast cut
By the occasional cloud, white.
Through the window diners dine
And drinkers cluster round the bar.
The red face drives home!
Geese flypast and land.

August 9, 2009

Dear Bear

Filed under: bailgate,letters — Trefor Davies @ 9:09 am

Dear Bear/Mr Grylls (delete as you consider appropriate)

The 18th Lincoln (Bailgate) Scout Group is celebrating its 90th anniversary next year on the 12th and 13th of December. It was either rather a long delivery or it happened exactly on the stroke of midnight and they couldn’t make their mind up which day it actually was (delete as you consider appropriate).

Seeing as you are now our Chief Scout/intrepid adventurer/all round good guy (delete etc…) we would be thrilled if you could come along to help us celebrate/unveil plaque/launch new canoe (etc). The latter is because we are Sea Scouts here at Bailgate 18th. Dunno if you ever had any nautical adventures?!

I don’t actually know how we will be celebrating at this time because I think I might have missed that particular committee meeting but I’m sure it will be good. Probably light a campfire and sing songs and so on. You know the form.

So if you could come then that would be great. That weekend is just after my own birthday so perhaps we could make it a double celebration. I’m not ninety though! If you can’t make it that weekend then some other time in 2010 would also be great. We will fit around you so no excuses really eh? 🙂 Just let us know when.

Yours Sincerely

Tref (age 47 1/2 )

August 8, 2009

the hot air balloon

Filed under: poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 7:05 pm

still life

there it hung, motionless,
in suspended animation way beyond the back garden fence.
it looked like a ladybird,
red with black spots, though they might have been blue,
I couldn’t really tell from a distance.
it appeared as the evening settled down,
still light, though the trees had started to look like cut outs.
I expected it to come closer,
because of the direction of the wind,
but it seemed to be going further away.
then I realised it was probably landing.
it began to sink slowly
leaving me to guess exactly where it went down,
disappearing out of sight.
I put a log on the barbecue
turning it into a firepit and providing an alternative distraction.

August 7, 2009

The metamorphosis of Miss Joanne Smith

Filed under: poems — Tags: , — Trefor Davies @ 9:14 pm

Girls they change, don’t ask me how,
No ask me,
They get an inner glow,
A beauty that transcends beauty,
Succoured by expectation.

Signatures they practice, flourishes that match
A new style,
Brought about by change,
Lifting life to a new high,
Moving on apace.

A suitable proposition, a satisfied Miss Smith,
Happiness in the shape of Mrs Duckworth.

July 31, 2009

The 2009 version of the quintessentially English summer’s afternoon

Filed under: miscellany — Tags: , , — Trefor Davies @ 2:00 pm

The lawn has been mowed and I finally managed to get the tent back into its bag after last year’s camping holiday. The detritus from this year’s holiday is now more or less stowed in various appropriate (and some inappropriate) cubbyholes. The birdseed holders have been refilled. The children are busying themselves elsewhere in the house, quietly. They are playing an interactive game with a friend over the internet. I have made enormous progress with my jobs list. The third Ashes Test match at Edgebaston is on Test Match Special on iPlayer. I’m also following it on www.cricinfo.com. The Aussies have just been bowled out for 263 in their first innings. I’ve just had a second cup of tea. Later we are going to the cricket club for the lads to have some time in the nets. Afterwards we will probably have a beer (lemonade) in the clubhouse and watch the game. Curry is on the menu for tonight. I’m still on holiday.

All is well with the world.

July 29, 2009

Isle of Man Day 10

Filed under: Isle of Man,prose — Tags: , , — Trefor Davies @ 6:56 pm

Early up and the weather at first glance looks good for traveling. This was somewhat deceptive as we were later to find out. A slow journey to Douglas behind a driver unaware that she was allowed to travel faster than 25 mph was compensated for by the fact that because we were towing a trailer we were second onto the boat and second in line to get off. Yo!

The “Snaefell” was a lot more cramped than the Mannanan that brought us to the island. Still we settled into our reserved seats and ate our croissants, baked by my fair hands shortly before leaving the house. What a pro!

Now every person in our family has something to contribute. Specifically at sea it is Joseph who is a bellweather for rough times ahead and promptly chundered into a well placed sick bag taken from the back of the seat in front of him.

It was not long before he was joined by a chorus of small children from the seats around us with a smattering of adults thrown in to provide harmony in the lower octaves. The sweet smell of vomit began to waft across the cabin…

Isle of Man Day 9

Filed under: Isle of Man,prose — Tags: , , , — Trefor Davies @ 6:54 pm

Back to it’s wet and windy ways, the Isle of Man drove us into Douglas again for a spin on the horse trams.

We arrived almost and hour before the first horse so we “did” Strand Street for the third time. Once along Strand Street is too many times. I can’t understand why people would bother.

Finally the tram. At £12 for the family to go one way along the prom the horse trams were seemingly making an enormous contribution to the Manx economy. I drove to the other end and picked the others up, more due to pressure of time than anything else but assisted by the cost.

Lunch was at Green’s vegetarian restaurant at the Steam Railway Station at the end of the harbour. My old mate Crell and his lovely wife Renate proved pleasant company surrounded by railway memorabilia. A passer by was flagged down to take the obligatory team photo and we said our farewells vowing not to leave it another ten years.

Back in Peel we caught no fish again and finished off with the tour of Moore’s kipper factory, “the only remaining traditional kipper curers”. Interesting enough though I did leave the tour feeling somewhat smoky eyed. Also found out the source of the saying “on tenterhooks”.

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