A new clause.

Thanks to our splendid family, David and I've had a wonderful Xmas, so this latest post is no reflection on said festive period. However, our Forwords writing group had a party and decided to celebrate with a grumpy theme. This was my contribution.

A NEW CLAUSE.

I'm so hacked off. Just a fortnight before Xmas, my dear husband announced that he and that botoxed Elvina were heading off to a bright and better future where there was a bit of sand, sunshine and loadsafun assured.

'Why don't you go after the 25^th' ? I asked. 'Then, at least the little children won't be disappointed.'

Obviously tickled, he ho -hoed a bit then said, 'You've been a stay at home wifie for the last two centuries, but in case you haven't noticed, the times they are a changing.' He broke into a tuneless rendering of some sad old song I never did like. 'No, this is the age of gender equality. It'll give you an excellent opportunity to join part of a wonderful hardworking workforce.' He thought for a moment, then added. 'Pity about Rudolph tho.' He'll be off to get some cosmetic surgery. Something to do with his nose and antler relocation. Still, the others will be happy to pull together. Ho Ho.' And then he was off with a spring in his step, I last saw when we tied the knot- a clove-hitch as I remember and certainly know what bit of that's lasted.

Anyway, I thought I'd better go and consult the elves. See how they were doing without Elvina.

'She was never the same after she became a shop steward,' one explained, ' and I'd have taken her place but I'll be off on maternity leave next week . Actually,' she thought for a moment before adding, 'I'm due TOIL, so I should be off now.'.' And with that, she waddled off, muttering, ' Damm- this bloomin' tummy's hell with these tights tights. I'd be better with wings but the angels aren't for sharing.'

'Never mind wings, ' I cried, ' what about the other elves?'

'We've been pretty busy this year,' came a chorus. 'So many meetings about time saving methods, and filling in disclosure documents, legal documents and so forth, there's been no time left to make anything.'

'Well I've been left to sort out Santa's jobsworth, ' I cried and went to complain to the reindeers lining up at Lapland's food bank.

'We're so scared we lose our place in this queue, we're not going anywhere this year,' Dasher said.

I stomped home. Had a straight gin, phoned the Claus helpline and what should I get but my own ansaphone voice apparently saying, 'Hello Boys and Girls. Xmas is just around the corner,.' 

Well I had to delete all that happiness promises and got the idea from a recent energy website. After giving the Santa-line email address, I put on the message. 'Thankyou for contacting us. We are working hard to respond but have higher than usual volume at the moment. Please be assured we will reply as soon as we can. (Probably after Xmas).

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Visit my website at:
www.janeyeadon.co.uk

A right laugh.

'Ha ha! I do like a good laugh,' I said to my resident chef. 'Fancy thinking I'd be part of your cookery dem.  The last time I showed an audience how to do anything was as a student midwife in Belfast and had to demonstrate bathing a baby to a group of mothers.  At the end of it, a perplexed mum asked me what a bairn was.'
'Och, a Forres audience will probably understand you better and showing how to make your mother's bannocks will be a dawdle,'  he replied, then warming to persuasion. 'See, Janie, all you'll need to do is pop the mixture on a griddle and watch they don't incinerate. They're perfect for use, savoury or sweet. I'll do the rest. I've been given a packet of Bere Meal so we can incorporate some of that to make blinis. Great for spreading a little lobster or crab on.' With an implication that the bannocks sat on a lower social scale, he said, 'You know. Fancy stuff.'  Then he swiftly added, 'Whatever way, it's for a good cause.  Forres Macmillan fund raising group are having a Christmas Fair event and we've been invited to be part of the entertainment.'

Between leaving things a bit late and difficulty in parking  we'd a rush to set up before our start. As David manfully put on his apron and lined up the blinis, I tried to assemble the wee portable gas cooker. Failure hadn't factored large in our entertainment programme, but who'd have thought such a thing would have afforded such amusement?
Diverted, the audience began to laugh as, in vain, I shook and clicked the dratted thing. Sweat beaded my brow. Panic began. Then, just as the audience began to shout advice, a learned  angel, came to the rescue.
'Look! It's easy,' she said. She turned the pan- rest the right way up, pulled a lever and flicked a switch. A bright blue flame shot up, earning a round of applause..
'That's a fair heat,' called someone from the front row, pushing back her chair. 'D'you think you should move the spare can of gas away from it?'
Oh how we laughed about that … eventually.


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Visit my website at:
www.janeyeadon.co.uk

PHOTO SHOOT. (Poem for Remembrance)

PHOTO SHOOT.

Snap!
The soldier stares out in sad sepia
Smart in freeze-frame.
Click!
Buttons, brass bright
Glance back at the camera.
Smile!
His cap set jaunty strives against
A solomn composition.
Flash!
Eyes fixed, straight shouldered
He faces retinal burn.
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Visit my website at:
www.janeyeadon.co.uk

Me and my Mobile.

Much beloved family members gave me a new fancy mobile phone. I think they call it a Smart phone. Too right! This new gadget can, apparently do everything but pare corns, but I already know how to do that. Learnt it as demonstrated by my father, his foot in one hand,  razor blade in the other. The manny was swack!
 This learning curve's different as my new wizardy gadget confirms.
 The mobile I had before, was apparently, a simple affair. I was able eventually to make a telephone call on it, and even on a day when there was a sudden unexpected rush of blood to the brain, managed to send a text or two.
That seems a stretch too far for this machine. Sometimes I do make the contact but most times, only  my worried  face appears on it. Now I'm wondering, if I've gone global, and scaring little children with a  frightening mug shot.
Anyone out there with loose change for a call box?
Visit my website at:
www.janeyeadon.co.uk

24th April 2017. A message from winter.

The snow today should not have come as a surprise- there's been plenty weather forecasters warning us that it was coming. This poem came on the tail of a wintry blast.

VOICE OF WINTER.

I regret  I've not yet done

and must leave a clean slate.

From a blizzard of snow and hail

I'll scour shoulders of granite

scrub boulders of gneiss

scrape stonecrop off stones

soak moss from its hosts.

Lustre to lochs needs frost

but to tidy leaves I'd want help.

The North wind will do that,

chill-blow them to heaps,

let sleet shift snow from peaks.

I've feather dusted daffodils

trying to trumpet Spring's here

and will write white on bold petal gold

Winter's not done yet, I regret.

B.B.C GROWING UP IN SCOTLAND.

There's to be a documentary on B.B.C.2 Scotland . The series starts on Thursday (23Feb.) 9p.m since you ask. In the absence of that delicious but now sadly finished series, THE MART, it's great that we're to have something else with a Scottish flavour. I'm devoted to ALBA but I've always to be close up to the telly to read the sub titles and can end up cross-eyed
Following the first programme on education, Laura Mitchell is responsible for the second which has home as its subject. She and camera man David Williamson met me at my old childhood farm where a wintry blast kept us and several spectating 'coos', company.
How strange and how clear the memories! Check them out if you like.( 2nd March). I'm unsure what if anything will be used, but I'd certainly recommend Laura's interviewing technique, easy charm and David's photographic skills and mischief.

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Visit my website at:
www.janeyeadon.co.uk

Reeling in Stuttgart.

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Visit my website at:
www.janeyeadon.co.uk

 We're back from visiting Stuttgart after a time made memorable by our generous hosts of Stuttgarter Spielkreis e.V. It's a talented group of musicians, singers and dancers who specialise in keeping musical and dancing traditions alive. They'd made such a full programme of activities and sight-seeing, I'd trouble remembering the reason for our visit but waiting for a train to take us to the main event was a prompt.
An audience of surprised passengers watched as we practised on the platform. The players' fiddles  had been left with our hosts, so in the absence of his, husband David sang several verses from that well known Scottish ballad, 'Deet deet deedle deedle deet deet deet.'
 Suitably accompanied, we managed the Circassian Circle without going into orbit whilst the Virginia Reel took reluctant dancer but expert fiddler William James to such a level of levitation, surely, we reasoned, we could also inspire our new friends.
  The January festival to which we'd been invited, was held in the old Kelterbeg 5 wine press. The plain wooden-beamed place came alive as the dancers took to the floor, hands clapping, coloured skirts swirling and polished shoes twinkling. 

 The beautifully measured folk dance shown above, is unlike, our Orcadian Strip The Willow, unlikely to land the dancers anywhere, but on their feet. Their verve and style was matchless but dancing partner, Charlie and I with the help of German Ingrid, managed to demonstrate the Dashing White Sergeant without too much collateral damage.
As back up, Ena,  the Fine Blend Music group leader of the Scottish fiddle contribution and accompaniment to our dances, talked everybody through the steps and by the time Sunday came with a follow up visit to an Old People's Home, that listening and clever  German group had added the St Bernard's Waltz, Canadian Barn Dance and Virginian Reel to their repertoire,
Hopefully the group will visit us in Scotland and show us how to do some of their dances, tho' the fact that they know a huge number could be a little daunting to those with the concentration of a blancmange.