Oct 27th, 2008

More nonsense

Following on from the last and thinking about nonsense verse and why it’s so seductive. I can still recite Betty Botter and I also remember some of the nonsense verse my mother and I used to make up together.  We took a line apiece and simply ran with it. Here’s an example:

I had a little budgie

The apple of my eye

One day it fell right off its perch

Now its feet point to the sky.

Stanley Unwin would be proud…

Nonsense verse is nearly always rhythmical, I think (more…)

Oct 27th, 2008

Says he to me

This has to be recited as fast as you can tumble the words out your mouth.  I’d love to know the origin of this nonsense rhyme – I attribute it to my mother (who was full of classic putdowns like “If I had a fault, which I have not, it would be modesty”)

Oct 15th, 2008

Cuddies

Again with the poetry – rather than attempt to translate this, I’ll just say that the word cuddy came into my head and I remembered this.

I was about seven years old on a frosty cold winter’s morning, lying cosy warm in my flannelette pyjamas under a heap of heavy blankets.  Outside my window was the sound of huge hooves moving slowly down the street and the clink of glass as the milkman pulled the bottles from their crates.  Everyone had milk delivered to the doorstep then.  In the winter, sparrows, taught the trick by blue tits, I later discovered, would peck at the silver foil tops of the milkbottles, drinking the rich tap o the milk.  Sometimes I’d watch the milkman bring out a long sack which he attached with straps to the horse’s head.  Contented munching would follow before they resumed their round.

The horse and milkman were both employees of the Co-operative Society (which ran a dividend scheme for savers) (more…)

Oct 14th, 2008

Here kitty kitty

The rain had seeped into the paper, making the print ink run and fade and the sellotape was crumpling, losing its adhesion. It had obviously been there some time.  Although not all of the words were legible any more, it told a sad story.  LOST – KITTEN.

The kitten was six? (it was hard to read how many) months old and she probably slipped out without them even knowing.  Only when they noticed how quiet it was suddenly would she be missed.  Kittens are virtual tornados of activity and chaos. They also, like young children, tire suddenly and require extended naps.

At six months, a girl kitten (more…)

Oct 12th, 2008

Black afrontit

Well, I’m going to really stick my neck out now.  As they say, publish and be damned.  I’m going to attempt something I’ve been considering for a while – writing poetry – in Scots.  What follows began with just a few thoughts about the dilemma faced by many Scots who are highly Anglified and once I got started, it just rolled on.  It’s not good poetry, and it’s probably not even good Scots language, but I care not a whit for that.  It felt – heartfelt to write and when I read it back (aloud – Scots language needs to be aloud, somehow) it feels like a wee deep corner of me is being exposed. So with not even a toot of a fanfare, here’s something I’m calling black afrontit.

[Apologies if there's anyone reading this to whom the language might as well be Ancient Mongolian for all the sense it makes. Not much point in translating it into English, for it lacks the spice of Scots.]

Mah mither
wis a’ fir the Scots language
an’ keepin’ it alive -
bit she didnae want me
tae hae slovenly speech
(more…)

Oct 10th, 2008

Time goes by

Three clock towers encircle my neighbourhood.  Two are attached to churches and one to a building which was once a bank but is now a Pizza Express.  In the quiet of the night, I hear the largest of them strike the hour, a comforting sound. But I wonder if clock towers are things of the past.

Before the Industrial Revolution, time was often measured by where the sun stood in the sky and standard British time was well nigh meaningless. If you worked in the fields, you worked from sunup to sundown and when the sun was at its zenith, (more…)

Oct 6th, 2008

Light lumiere licht

Photographers always say that it’s all about the light… and damn, it certainly is.  Since I moved to a place that actually has some light, I’ve been transfixed by the amount of different moods light has.  Sitting here as the gloaming drew in tonight, I saw this…

Oct 5th, 2008

If I wake in the night

If I wake in the night
let it be
between four and five
when the dark morning
is at its softest

a dog yipping
in the next street
the clock striking (more…)

Oct 5th, 2008

Coming in for the warm

Am I right that house spiders (tegenaria gigantea/domestica) come indoors for the warmth when the temperature drops? I got up yesterday, reached for the kettle and over it, suspended over it by a single thread, hung a big spider.  Well, it’s not the sort of thing you want first thing in the morning, half-asleep in need of the first coffee of the day, is it?

I’m afraid I’m ambivalent about spiders – all of them, not just the house variety.  Outdoors, I find them utterly fascinating.  Watching a spider build a web is one of those experiences worth spending a little time on. The mathematics of it and the incredible strength to size ratio. The result is breathtaking.  Of course to the spider, it’s simply a hunting tool – build a web, wait for breakfast (more…)

Oct 4th, 2008

Miles arrives

Perhaps a bit of a story – perhaps not.

Miles arrived during the fiercest of the February storms. The sea was so high, they’d closed the harbour. It wasn’t a time for any self-respecting cat to be out of doors.

Iggy, as Boss, made the first introduction. Miles eyed the huge marmalade tom nervously. One eartip missing and enormously luxuriant whiskers. Bit of a battler in the past probably.

Iggy saw well kept fur and a suggestion of sleek strength. A youngster – couldn’t be more than a yearling. The eyes worried him though – last time he saw eyes like that, there was trouble.

I’m Iggy: Ignatius R. to you. You’re not planning on staying, are you?
Only if I’m not putting anyone out said Miles.

The boy has a brain, thought Iggy. We don’t accept just anyone here he said.

Photo by rachdian