Friday, October 31, 2008


Just for fun. Answers tomorrow.


1 What is the longest word that you can type with your left hand?
2 In the fridge what happens to a normal elastic band?
3 In what year did Niagara Falls freeze over? (Yes it's true!)
4 What famous gentleman was born in a Ladies' Loo?
5 Which is the only fish that can blink with both its eyes?
6 Which part of the body from birth stays the same size?
7 Only one word ends in 'mt'. Guess it if you can.
8 How many seconds are there in a goldfish memory span?
9 What is a word that reads the same from left as well as right.
10 Who invented scissors? A clue; he was quite bright.
11 Which hand does the most work when you go to type a letter?
12 What do men do pretty well, but women do much better?
 13 Which nuts are ingredients when making dynamite?

And there won't be any prizes  even if you get them right!

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Extra! Extra! 'Newcastle'

Herewith a short commercial. The poem says it all.

There's a film about 'Newcastle', recently made.
The premiere is later today.
So here's a commercial, though I wont get paid.
(It's Newcastle, Oz, by the way.)
I read that the city scrubs up and looks good
And the surf is a joy to behold,
But they feature the grimy side, too, (as they should)
And the parts that are run-down and old.
It's a film about surfing, the cast mostly male,
And there's quite a strong bias to gay,
The young bodies are tanned to perfection, not pale,
Which you may not admire (or you may!)
The language is pretty outspoken, I hear,
And you'll cover your ears at the 'Strine'!
 You may find the language a little bit 'queer'.
(I assure you, it's nothing like mine!!!!)
The film has been made by a Yanky, no less,
Who admired our delightful old city,
In one way or another it's bound to impress,
For Newcastle's really quite pretty.
It may not do well overseas, that's for sure.
It'll pass like a ship in the night.
But I draw your attention to our distant shore
Who knows? You may think it's all right!

Quote from an American paper!
"Here's a movie jam-packed with hot blond Australian surfer boys and not only do they surf, they do so shirtless (and often shorts-less), their toned bodies dripping with salt water and sweat."

and winifred said...

A Newcastle film, now that’s really great
I’m dying to see it and can hardly wait,
But here just a minute, surf did you say?
Toned bodies and shirtless? Well gerraway!

It’s cold and it’s windy in this city of mine,
And nobody swims up here in the Tyne.
They’d die of pneumonia or something much worse,
Some horrible lurgy, disease or a curse.

I’ve made a mistake, I must be quite thick.
Trust me to get the wrong end of the stick.
I’ve got the wrong country, doesn’t that beat the band?
It’s Newcastle in Oz and not Geordieland!

Thanks Winifred!

180.Star-Sign Unions One.

I am no expert on astrology and this is a light-hearted approach to the subject, but I have culled my information from various articles which all seem to agree, by and large.
 The series of poems that will follow is not for the serious student!


If Aries marries Aries look-out for a lightning strike,
For passion and  excitement is what both these people like!
Immediate intensity makes the flame of love burn brightly.
They'll fall into each other's arms and hang on very tightly!
But, with both of them Control Freaks, some quarrels will be torrid,
As both of them are able to be, verbally, quite horrid!
It could be that it's a pairing better made for an affair;
It would make for vivid memories for both halves of this pair.
But as the first fine frenzy might diminish pretty soon,
It's maybe better not to plan a lifelong Honeymoon.
Just have a great old sizzling time, fantastically fiery,
And read about it when you're old, in your faded, well-thumbed diary.
And smile a bit at how life, once, was passionate and wild,
(By that time  both will be mature, mellow and meek and mild!)
BUT, should you marry, you could have a life of wedded bliss,
Provided that you make-up every quarrel with a kiss.
And provided that you have some other interests to pursue,
So that you have another life when dreams don't quite come true.
An Aries with an Aries? A love that may endure.
In the meantime, have a high old time.
We envy you, for sure!
(I have decided to start another blog for these poems as publishing them, say, once a month, will probably have me falling off the perch before I get to the end! I'll still include them in Rinkly Rimes, though.)

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

The Lavender Path


You may 'remember an inn, Miranda'
I remember a Lavender Path.

Grandma lived only a short distance away.
We could walk there.
But the journey was an adventure.
Excitement was my companion.
'We're going to Grandma's!' I would chant
As I skipped along by my mother.
Our house was just a house;
Grandma's was a place of magic.

First, the gate.
But not just a gate!
A leafy archway
Which made our entry
We 'entered'.
We didn't 'go in.'

Then, the path!
Shiny and orange.
Terra cotta I'd call it now.
Then it was 'orange'.
And gleaming.
And orderly, with its neat tiles.
And so very, very long!
(I experienced 'The Yellow Brick Road'
Long before 'Oz')

It led up to an elegant doorway!
And we passed between banks of lavender!
The purple spikes massed on either side,
Their perfume intoxicated me.
I still smell them.

There were other delights.
An orchard
Filled with Cox's Orange Pippins.
You who have never smelt a 'Cox's'
Or bitten into its wrinkled skin,
Haven't lived!

There was an apple loft,
Where Grandpa stored 
His bounty.
One climbed wooden steps to reach the loft,
And there was a platform at the top.
From there one could look over
The apple trees
And see the trains!
Oh bliss!
To stand there,
So high,
So royal,
Watching one's thundering beasts go by!

There was also a shed.
It was tumble-down, even then.
It was musty with age.
And there were other ancient smells
From plant-pots
Old newspapers in stacks,
Yes, definitely hessian.
I wonder why.
We were allowed to eat Cox's windfalls.
So, yes,
There was that gloriously appley smell too.
Plus the smell of the forbidden raspberries.

And, most magical of all, 
There was a greenhouse
With Grapes!
Grapes were foreign things.
These were small and sour.
But there they hung,
Gloriously plump exotica
In Grandpa's greenhouse!

After tea, we walked home again,
Past the lavender.
And I stole a few heads
To rub between my fingers as I walked.
Making the magic last.
My 'Christmas Trees are small' now
As the song says.
I have returned as an old lady.
I see an unremarkable suburban house,
Not very well planned.
I see a small garden 
With one or two trees.
I hear the irritating sound
Of passing trains.
I see a narrow path
Which, if I take a few steps,
Leads me to an everyday door.

And the lavender has gone.

179. The Opposite of Octopus!

For letter 'O' I've dredged up another ancient children's song from my teaching past. (The punch-line has changed with the times!)

See also, an 'O' photo on my PLUS blog and an 'O' play on my ETT SETTERA Blog.
 Today is ABC WEDNESDAY, of course, so go to Mrs Nesbitt's place
 and read lots of other entries.


The opposite of high is low
And the opposite of fast is slow,
But the opposite of octopus
Is something I don't know.

The opposite of hot is cold
And the opposite of young is old,
But the opposite of octopus
I never have been told.

The opposite of day is night
And the opposite of wrong is right,
But the opposite of octopus
Is something I can't write.

The opposite of go is stay
And the opposite of work is play,
But the opposite of octopus
I really cannot say.

The opposite of thin is fat
And the opposite of this is that
But the opposite of octopus?
What are you getting at?

The opposite of me is you
And the opposite of false is true,
But the opposite of octopus?
I haven't got a clue!

I really feel it isn't fair
That you ask me all this what and where.
If you want to know the opposite of octopus,
Google it!

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

178. Off-White

(A photo of the players on my PLUS blog. This is particularly for Margaret, in New York, because I often mention these 'girls'(!) in my emails.)

A rather  longer entry than usual today as it's a short play. It is, in fact, a very silly version of 'Snow-White' that my little group is staging for this Christmas. Only a few wigs, a frame, some apples in a basket and some Santa hats are needed for props, and the words are read. The idea is that the group will act it first and then members of the audience will be asked to perform!

Maybe some of you who read my Blog might be looking for something to 'put on' during the Festive Season.
Help yourselves!

The Reader.
The Queen; a blowsy dame with huge lipsticked lips.
Snow-White: well, you know.
The Mirror: someone looking through an empty photo frame.
The Seven Dwarfs: very dwarfy.*
Prince Vince: wow!
The tale we'll tell
You'll  know full well,
For it's been around for years.
It's called Off-White.
(You'll recall her plight.)
But first the Queen appears.
I am the Queen
And I'm very mean
Though I'm beautiful for sure.
I've the sort of looks
Read about in books
And I'm noble and I'm pure.
Since this is a farce
I'm a looking glass
But I talk because I'm magic
As you can see,
As well as me,
Her looks are more like tragic!
Ah you can speak!
Now I'll take a peek!
Mirror mirror on the wall
You must now declare
That I'm fresh and fair,
The most beautiful of all.
You sad old bag!
You mean old hag!
Your face is a ghastly mess.
Off-White you see
Is more fair than thee,
Though she wears a ragged dress.
Now I'll step in!
The plot is thin
But it needs an explanation.
The Queen is wild
For her husband's child
Has caused this situation.
I was always best!
Above the rest!
How dare she do the dirty?
I'll cook her goose!
No friendly truce
Can make me feel less shirty!
(Exit Queen)
And, sure enough,
In an awful huff,
She's leaves to plan and plot.
Off-White must die!
Her hopes are high
That she'll win back top spot.
The mirror wails
For this entails
A nasty gruesome slaughter!
Poor little Off-White
Can't put up a fight.
Though she's a monarch's daughter.
Off--White (entering)
I am Off-White,
I'm a bit of all right
Like  a pretty little rose.
I've juicy lips,
Undulating hips
And a dear little turned-up nose!
It's true, my dear,
If you had the gear,
You'd win every prize around.
But flee for your life
From your father's wife!
You'd better go to ground!
(Exit Mirror)
So Off-White flees
Among forest trees
Until she loses her way.
It's late, it's dark
And her vital spark
Is withering away.
A house I see,
Just right for me.
I think I'll go inside.
I wont be found
If the Queen comes round.
What a very good place to hide!
But she's rather fussed
By the dirt and dust
So she flicks her little duster
She attacks the dirt
With an energy spurt
And all the vim she can muster.
(Dwarfs come heighhoing from afar)
But oh dear, oh dear!
Now what's this here?
What a ghastly sight I see!!
Seven old men!
Coming home again
Seven of them and me!!!!!
Off-White, at first,
Seems to fear the worst,
But the dwarfs are quite platonic!
They just require
A cosy fire
And a glass of gin and tonic.
What a welcome sight
On a chilly night
A housemaid who's made to measure!
Make sure you stay
And work hard each day.
My! But we've found a treasure!
I'll gladly work!
I will never shirk
Although I'm so good-looking!
I'll rake and hoe
And wash and sew
And even do your cooking!
(Exit Dwarfs)
The very next day,
They're on their way,
Back working in the wharves.
They sing heigh ho
As off they go!
They must be the Seven Dwarves!
I'm free as air!
She wont know where
I'm safely tucked away.
I may be poor
But I know for sure
That this is where I'll stay
But as she works
Look, there she lurks,
The Queen in a deep disguise!
She has fruit to sell
Though we know full-well
She's going to tell some lies
(Queen enters in diguise)
You little dear!
See, I have here
An apple ripe and red.
It's big and bright
And just one bite
(aside) Will make sure that she falls dead!
You dear old thing
What joy you bring
To a maiden all forlorn!
I'll taste your fruit
Although I'm cute
And very highly born.
She takes a bite
And, strike a light,
She begins to lose her breath.
She gasps, she chokes
She screams, she croaks,
And it all results in death.
(Reviving briefly) I want a word!
I may look absurd
But they've given me permission
To die upright
At my full height.
A convenient position! (Repeat death)
(Exit Queen. Dwarfs return)
Off goes the Queen
Still mad and mean,
And the Seven Dwarfs return.
But their  tea's not cooked,
 It's been overlooked
As they'll very quickly learn.
There'll be hell to pay!
Oh sorry day!
We've lost a great au pair!
We're high and dry
So let's have a cry!
Life simply isn't fair!
(Dwarfs sob and cry. Enter Prince Vince.)
But a handsome Prince
With a nice blonde rinse
Comes through the woods by chance.
His eyes are led
To a girl who's dead
And he gives a second glance
Make way! Make way!
You must obey!
For I'm from the upper crust.
She's in a faint
And I'm no saint.
In fact I'm consumed by lust!
He sees her hips
And her rosebud lips
And he loses all control!
Just look at this
He plants a kiss
And she wakes up! Bless my soul!
Just like real life
They'll be man and wife
And they'll both grow quite familiar!
But we have to say
That this little play
Couldn't have been much sillier.

* Can be one dwarf plus six audience-members Conga-style.