Tuesday, 25 July 2017

Eye Don't Believe It.

Just when eye thought my blogging momentum was returning, eye find eye am having a bit of a problem with focusing my vision.

It's quite difficult typing this post when my computer screen looks more like an aquarium.  This situation, which is happening in my right eye, should be sorted out within the next few hours.  

You see, well you see, eye'm kinda' vain and eye hate wearing my glasses.  Eye was removing my contact lenses and part of the right contact lens decided to break off.   It's floating aimlessly about at the bottom part of my right eye.  The minor injuries unit at the local hospital can flush the contact fragment out. 

Oh and wearing my glasses makes it even weirder.  

Thus and eye don't believe it, eye'm switching off the comments on this post.  Hopefully eye will return shortly.

Here's a photo of my right eye from a few years ago.  Eye took the photo myself.  

Did eye ever mention that eye attended school with a pupil named Iris.....

Saturday, 15 July 2017

Mark Oh Polo!

You might be familiar with Polo.  A bizarre game where a bunch of posh folks ride around on horses. These Polo Pony prancers hit a wooden or white plastic ball with some kinda' weird mallet.  Apparently, you're supposed to hit said ball with said mallet into, ideally, the opposition's goal. What the Chukka, I say.  I've read that a Chukka is a period of play in Polo. 
You might be familiar with Water Polo.  A bizarre game where a bunch of wet folks try to throw a ball into a goal.  The players chase around a rubber or a nylon ball.  The balls get bigger in size as you get older.  The balls start at size one all the way up to size five for adult men who like to play with the biggest balls while frolicking in the water. 
What you might not realise is that in Water Polo the players are riding around on Seahorses. 

Polo
Oh no
What the Chukka
Who gives a Fukka
Water Polo
Big balls, hello!
Riding on a Seahorse
Underwater intercourse
Polo is a car
Not a car by Jaguar
Polo is a mint
Strong enough to make you squint
Polo is a shirt
Goes rather well with my skirt
Polo is an aftershave
Splash some on before I rave. 

Saturday, 8 July 2017

Musical "Cymbalism".

I've never been in a LOVER'S triangle.

However, finally, at long last, I've become a SEX cymbal.
That calls for a drum roll. 


Thursday, 22 June 2017

The Community Of Humane Humanity.

For the past three weeks, I've started this post, erased the words and started again and again...

I was going to tell you what had transpired in regards to the bursitis in my right elbow.

And another tragedy would happen in Britain.  Yes, Britain, "this green and pleasant land".  A land tested and tormented to an insidious breaking point.  I'd start to type again and another tragedy would befall this beleaguered, fragile land.

Each heartbreaking incident has deeply impacted ever fibre of my emotional being.  Floods of tears have cascaded down my cheeks.

So much pain. Some perpetrated by acts of terror. And then there was the horror of the apartment tower.  

It made the physical pain I'd experienced, for just over eight months, pale into insignificance.  Yes, through the passage of time, a further evaluation by my doctor, it has turned out that I will not be needing surgery.  My right elbow is almost back to normal.

My elbow situation is but a sideline issue in regards to the overall ethos of this post.

For through each tragedy I've witnessed, there has been a tangible sense of a real, loving community. A gathering of humanity.  All united in a solidarity that gives them, gives you, gives me hope through the hell.  People from all walks of life, the rich, the poor, the black, the white, the Muslim, the Christian, the Jew, the atheist and the agnostic, embracing, crying together, being there for each other in a peaceful defiance to what could, but never will, tear us apart.

All different.  All equal. We must not let hatred, through ignorance, breed further hatred and ignorance.  Let us celebrate humanity's diversity.  Let us learn from each other, in peace, in love.

Extremism, in all its ugly forms, will never, ever defeat us.

Wednesday, 31 May 2017

Going Down.

You might of realised that I've left the comments switched off for the last few, very short blog posts. The reason being is that I do try to comment back individually to anybody kind enough to take the time to comment.  However, while my right elbow was still not completely okay, it's been a struggle to type.  Besides, I also like to be proactive on other blog sites and leave comments.  I've failed miserably in doing this during the last several months of having an "el-boob" aka "tennis elbow.

I'll be switching the comments back on fairly soon because my elbow has just about healed without the need for surgery.  I explain the farcical situation about it at a later time.

In the meantime, I'll share another experience with you.

Don't you just hate it when you push the button to go up in the lift, also known as an elevator and you end up going down.  This happened to Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar and myself, a couple of days ago. We were on the second floor.  We wanted to go to the third floor and found we were going down, going down to the first floor.  The doors opened and before us were three pensioners, one of them had a mobility scooter.  Realising that there wouldn't be enough room for all of us, Penny and I graciously got out of the elevator and waited for a later moment.

Thankfully, we've memorised the route because sometimes going up means you end up going down.

Thursday, 25 May 2017

"Hairing" My Clean Laundry.

Okay, time to put away the neatly folded, nice, clean laundry. 
"Ah Gary, my wonderful human dad, you've got no chance!"