Friday, 27 March 2015

It came pre-broken...





During December some kindly old Gentleman, whilst parking, drove into the back of my Rover, at some speed. He broke it spectacularly and as a result my insurance company insisted I didn't drive it. Citing issues such as *really bloody dangerous* and *never a good idea to have four wheels facing different directions* and *we'd prefer you to have brakes and such*...

As a result they took it away from me, which was a bit awkward seeing as how I need a car for work. Not just getting to and from but during...

So I looked around...bear in mind this was the week before Xmas and there were precious few cars available. I found, via AutoTrader, a C5 Citroen Estate, diesel, at almost the right money. It was A1 and brilliant, apparently. One careful owner, full service history...

Yeah...the Citroen turned into a Citron as soon as I left the yard with it...so far I've replaced the clutch, two side impact sensors, a chunk of exhaust and two tyres. And yesterday as a mark of thanks it failed its MOT.

AAAAND I'm now in the position where I've thrown SO much money at it that I can't afford for it not to pass its MOT. And I STILL need a car for work. So....

I asked the Condensed Wisdom of The Facebooks whether Crowdfunding would be relevant. I am in this mess entirely because I jumped in with both feet and with eyes closed. I needed a car so badly I didn't do all the checks I should. So mea maxima culpa...however...I do need a car for work. And specifically this one as I say I need to get at least a year out of it to make it anywhere near cost effective.

I *am* doing other stuff to raise money, including Lots of Moving People and such. But that is going to take a while. And as I said, the car is needed ASAP.

So...as the Condensed Wisdom of Facebook said *If you do it, we'll see what happens...some people would actually happily help* then I've done this.

All I can offer is my undying thanks and some more Seren a PUPPYDOG! stories...

Thanks,

Gaz

Monday, 9 June 2014

The Life of a Snail

You have to admit that you'd find it quite odd
If you woke up this morning a gastropod.
You'd phone in a sicky. "I'm really not well-
I'm finding it hard to come out of my shell..."

Your lifestyle would change, as too would your diet
You never ate greens, now you just want to try it
You are cursing and hating this unforeseen malady
'Cos your food source has gone from McDonalds to salady.

You're now a hermaphrodite. Breeding is tricky.
Involving hormones and slime...it's quite icky.
Love darts are involved if you want to get mate-ey
But Hey, you've succeeded. One hundred and EIGHTY!

And now come the sad part. Gastro-time really flies
And you're losing the sigh in all four of your eyes.
But your end will be swift...it is too sad for words
But a snail is simply a walnut for birds...

Thursday, 21 November 2013

Athena Good Pun...

He was tired. Oh, so very very tired. He'd been working on the Parthenon for nearly 15 years. Almost without break. He'd risen from the ranks, unlike most Athenians, and he took that to mean that the Goddess, Athena herself, was smiling on him. Which made him work all the harder. 

From humble tool-carrier to stone-smith and mason, he'd worked the Doric columns, His eye for detail had attracted attention, and soon he was overseer to the masons, and then, after ten years the ultimate accolade. He became foreman. 

Of course, although the Parthenon was open, it took another seven years to complete, and in that time he never took a break. And his desire, his need for perfection, in honour of Athena herself, never left him. How he yelled when things were missed. How he roared when the marble cracked. How he bellowed when the bass reliefs of the Metopes split and shattered. 

And now it was over. And he was pleased, for his voice was gone. No more could he yell. He could hardly even croak.
He was Bob, the Hoarse Foreman of the Acropolis ...

Wednesday, 10 April 2013

Love at first sight.





It was, of course, love at first sight. How could it not have been?
She was undoubtedly the most exotic, the most exquisite creature he had ever seen.

Oh, they'd talked about her. The lads. Of an evening, when they'd sat around chewing the fat.
She was pretty much all they talked about. Her, her reputation, how they wanted to be...well, how they wanted to be where he now was.

He stared into her eyes. Vivid, startling green they flickered in the neon light. He gazed into them and saw himself reflected back a thousand times. She ran a long, languorous limb over his naked flesh, and he shuddered.

Yeah, she had a reputation. The Eternal Widow. Something of a maneater all the older blokes said. Beware of her. She only wants you for one thing...he was fine with that. If he was homest he only wanted her for the same one thing.

They embraced and he smelled her exotic scent. The coupling happened quickly, roughly, violently. He shuddered, his senses numb. This was it! He'd done what the others had only talked about! Just think! What a tale he'd have to take back to the


*CHOMP*


The lid lifted off the tank. She was quick, but not quick enough. Danny swore as he saw her holding the twitching, headless corpse.

"Oh...bugger. DAAAAAAD! The bloody Praying Mantis has done another one!"

Saturday, 19 May 2012

A song of...

A song of Spri......spri....sp.....s.....s....ACHOO! *sniff*

Your skin is clammy, your nose is red
you're wishing now that you stayed in bed.
You chose to go on to work instead,
Now you're ill, and you're tired and have green sleeves.

The pollen count is now really high,
The newsmen say. And so that is why
You're out of tissues, and red of eye
And your sneezing's the reason for green sleeves.

Green sleeves, they are what you wear
When you go out-doors in the hay-filled air
You look a mess and it's just not fair
Full of snot, burning hot, and two green sleeves.

It's spring and everything wants to breed
Every tree and flower, every bush and weed
It is plant bukake, which you then breathe
And each Springtime's a grim time with Green sleeves.

So every spring when the world turns green
You head for Boots, and buy, sight unseen,
Any drug that has antihistamine
And attempt at prevention of green sleeves.

Green sleeves, it is floral porn
From early May, and from Early dawn
It makes you wish you had not been born
You have issues, no tissues, just green sleeves.

And when at last you can take no more
and they find you dead on the kitchen floor
Your coffin glides through that final door
To the haunting refrain that is Greensleeves..

Tuesday, 10 April 2012

Willow's Weasels, and a cry for help.... 11/4/12

Willow's weasels are not getting better...she is going to need to see a V.E.T, and sadly I find myself financially embarrassed, having had a couple of silly vets bills to pay already...so I'm asking that if you have at any time enjoyed Willow's tales, and would like to see more, could you possibly donate via the Paypal button to help Willow's Weasels go away.

I don't like asking, but I'm still trying to pay back the rather more than UKP 1,000 that her last escapade cost...

Thank you in advance.

Here's the "Donate" button







Thursday, 17 February 2011

She looked at him, as he sat beside her bed. They'd been close once, as close as a man and a woman could get. They'd shared a house, a bed, their dreams. It had been good.

But then the arguments started. No...she'd started the arguments, now she thought about it. She didn't know why. Even now, she didn't know why. Maybe she was scared of the commitment, the giving of her entire self to one man. Maybe she felt tied down. Trapped. One thing she realised now was that it wasn't his fault. The rows that she blamed him for, blamed his selfishness for...she'd started all of them.

Because, when she became ill, too ill to look after herself, of all the people who could have helped, all the people she thought of as friends? They were too busy. The guy she was with when the illness started, she could barely remember his name...as soon as she was hospitalised, he was gone. Apparently he'd stripped the flat of anything of value and left.

Yet here *he* was. Sat by her bed, day after day, talking, holding her hand, smiling, reminiscing about the good times. And there had been so many good times. She knew that, now. He'd done nothing to her except love her. He'd given her joy, he'd given her happiness, he'd given her confidence, he'd given her his heart. And she'd hurt him, confused him, driven him away. Yet here he was. Day after day. From the time she opened her eyes to the time the lights were turned off. Sat beside her, on the bed, stroking her hand and arm, talking, smiling, singing.

She should never have left him.

And now she had to leave him again, hurt him once again.

One more time, there he was, beside her as she lay. He smiled, again, a solitary tear running down his face as he threw a handful of soil in the hole.

"Goodbye, my love. I always loved you" he whispered.

She smiled. Goodbye. Thank you. I love you too.