Ain’t nothing but a hound dog…
Lines inspired by my niece Louisa’s dog, Bundy, on his first attempt at a selfie…
There was once a doggie called Bundy
Got a gift from Louisa on Sundy.
Though he’d wanted a bone
She gave him a phone
And he’d taken a selfie by Mundy
Bliar, Bliar, Pants on Fire…
It is worth reflecting that the week in which we learnt of the death of Nobel Laureate and Archbishop Emeritus of Capetown, Desmond Tutu, is also the week in which we learnt that the former UK Prime Minister, Tony Blair has been honoured with the highest possible rank of knighthood, as a Knight Companion of the Most Noble Order of the Garter.
In 2012, Tutu withdrew from the Discovery Invest Leadership Summit in Johannesburg as he felt he “couldn’t sit with someone who justified the invasion of Iraq with a lie”. As he wrote in a Graun thinkpiece at the time of his withdrawal:
“The immorality of the United States and Great Britain’s decision to invade Iraq in 2003, premised on the lie that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction, has destabilised and polarised the world to a greater extent than any other conflict in history.”
“If leaders may lie, then who should tell the truth?”
“Leadership and morality are indivisible. Good leaders are the custodians of morality. The question is not whether Saddam Hussein was good or bad or how many of his people he massacred. The point is that Mr Bush and Mr Blair should not have allowed themselves to stoop to his immoral level.”
A renowned politician did conspire
To lead us all into the mire
Of an illegal war
But depite the uproar
He’s now knighted as Sir Tony Bliar!
Where there is cake there is hope…
… and there’s always cake! (Dean Koontz)
Firstborn couldn’t travel this year
But she knew there was nothing to fear
‘Cos her brother could make
Her dad’s birthday cake
And fill up his day with good cheer!
They’re back…
Regulars to the blog may be a little concerned that I haven’t yet reminded them to delve back into a seasonal post from earlier years regarding young Lovell’s bride. Well worry not, here’s the link to that tragic tale of Yuletide gothic despair.
But unlike Lovell, I’m not in despair this Christmas! Bellowhead, the band whose rendition of The Mistletoe Bough is highlighted in that earler post has decided to reform for a one-off tour next November, six years after they disbanded, and I have tickets!
The tour is ostensibly to celebrate the 10th anniversary of their album Broadside. I suspect the reality is slightly different and the band members are in need of a payday to make up for the loss of income over the pandemic years – and who would blame them? Not me!
Anyway, here’s a rather uninspired limerick…
A concert-goer once claimed
That he felt a little bit pained
‘Cos the band he once saw
Played together no more,
So how could he be entertained?
When the world and I were young…
And another representative of ones childhood theatrical and musical mileu has gone.
I was sorry to hear that Michael Nesmith had died. He was my favourite ‘Monkee’ as a kid because he was by far and away the coolest of the quartet. Personally, I’ve never been able to rock the wool hat look myself (my head, quite literally, is too big) and the sideburn vibe that he pioneered (and became a ‘must have’ for any self-respecting 1970s rugby player) was also beyond me (I was bristly enough but with the wrong shaped face!). I lack creativity and can neither sing nor play a musical instrument so, all in all, I could never have been him however much I would have wished it at a young age.
I am, nevertheless, fond of the aphorism that it’s not what you look at that makes you different, but what you see. I found that to be a truism every time in my professional life when I ended up in discussions as a minority of one (I’m arrogant enough still to believe that I was usually right – in fact I know I was!) and from reading his obituaries it certainly seems that Nesmith saw things in a different way too. At least we might have had that in common!
Anyway, with apologies for the misquoted line from the Monkees Theme Song, here’s the limerick…
The Monkees were once heard to say
“Get ready, ‘cos we might come your way”,
But their fans are bereft
Now there’s only one left
Since ‘Wool Hat Papa Nez’ passed away!
Postscript: I do apologise for the use of ‘rock’ and ‘vibe’ in this post, but sadly (horrifically?) they were the words that came to mind when I was scribing it. I’m aghast!
Time for a dram…
Any ideas? Anyone? Chief Brody?
A drinker of drams had a shock
When he wanted to add to his stock
His problem, you see,
Was a cupboard so wee
That he needed a much bigger clock!
Holidays abroad – remember them?
I don’t normally do ‘Throwback Thursday’, but was so pleased to see this headline a couple of weeks ago that it made me revisit an ALAW from 2016!
Five years ago, we’d purposefully avoided a dolphin show whilst on holiday in Mallorca, but had re-created one ourselves. The limerick wasn’t very good, but the pics and commentary still make me laugh (if not my other half🤭) so I’ve included them here along with a brand new limerick…
A lassie once thought t’would be cool
To porpoise around in a pool
She got all of her kicks
Doing Flipper’s old tricks
‘Cos she knows that it’s dolphins that rule!
…and the old pics and commentary:
(As with the original blog post, no sprats, sardines or spouses were injured in the making of this montage)
War, maps, art
A few years ago I posted a blog about the life of my great uncle, Harold Whidby Speight, and his service in the First World War.
I had mentioned that, aged 21, he was mobilised to Belgium as a sergeant with the 50th Northumbrian Division, arriving just in time for the second battle of Ypres (with neither gas mask nor steel helmet). I also mentioned that he painted in watercolour and, recently, I have come across an undated work of his at the intersection of graphic design, cartography, history and personal experience.
It is an example of ‘map art’ and represents his account of the second battle of Ypres. It’s in a rather fragile state and was torn in two at some point, but I’ve photographed it and included it below. (You’ll need to zoom in to see the detail.)
I think it’s rather impressive and worth restoring and preserving for the archives of the Durham Light Infantry (anyone know the number of TV’s The Repair Shop😆?).
My second post about Harold’s war time experience referenced his pay book and a poem that he’d copied into it in lieu of a short form will. The poem, The Steel of the DLI, was about the Division’s experience in early August 1915, a few months after the Second Battle of Ypres, when it fought to re-take the area around Hooge, and its costly heroics in holding Hooge Crater.
Although Harold’s artwork pre-dates the latter event it does, nevertheless, contain one reference to the crater in the roll of honour at upper right. Most of those named died on May 24 1915 (the penultimate day of the Second Battle of Ypres), but one named officer, Lieutenant Gilbert Talbot, is recorded as having died at Hooge Crater on 30 July. That was the day when the German army first used flame throwers (flammenwerfers). It must have added hugely to the terror felt by the opposing infantry. Talbot died leading his men in a counter attack following the flame thrower offensive.
Talbot was not directly linked to Harold; however, there is a clear motivation to his inclusion in Harold’s artwork. Talbot’s elder brother was an army chaplain who, along with others in December 1915, established a rest and recreational centre named Talbot House in honour of Gilbert. This became known Toc H based on the house’s initials (TH was represented as Toc Aitch in the radiotelephony phonetic alphabet of the time analogous to Tango Hotel in the modern International Radiotelephony Spelling Alphabet).
In 1920, Toc H developed into an international, inter-denominational Christian social service of which Harold was a member. One of its aims was to promote reconciliation, something that would have been close to Harold’s heart. (The organisation still exists as a voluntary movement.)
Postscript: The Hooge Crater was created by the detonation of a mine laid at the end of a 190-foot tunnel (dug by the 175 Tunnelling Company) on 19 July 1915 and was estimated to be 120 feet in diameter and 20 feet deep.
Time to rhyme…
Some new verbiage has been added to the ‘what-passes-for-poetry’ section of the blog. You can find it here.
It’s still raining in the Lakes!
In the early 1990s British Rail was derided for claiming that ‘the wrong sort of snow’ was the cause of many service failures during one particular wintery spell. Subsequently, a successor company, Network Rail, was similarly derided for claims that ‘leaves on the line’ were responsible for a number of fractured services.
Yet in both cases the problems were caused by genuine engineering challenges, something overlooked by the great British public in its ignorance and with its desire to moan about the country’s railways.
I know from experience, that when complicated issues are reduced by the media to ‘trial by soundbite’, it is very difficult to close down misleading commentaries – especially to a public with the attention span of a gnat!
Neverthless, a lexicon that now includes ‘the wrong sort of snow’ does point to a kind of exasperated humour, which is why I had to smile when the Lake Windermere ferry service was stopped from running this week (for genuine safety reasons) due to the lake being “too full”…
It was the Graun that cottoned on to the fact that:
The operators of the Windermere ferry, which shuttles between Nab End and Bowness, have apologised for being unable to run the service with the lake being too full.
… before acknowledging the actual safety issue as given by the operators:
Due to excessive rainfall overnight the lake levels have risen to an extent whereby we cannot land safely and must suspend services till levels drop.
Still, it’s worth a limerick…
A Lake District storm will not lull
When the weather’s so beastly and dull
And conditions have shown us
The ferry from Bowness
Can’t sail ‘cos the lake is too full
Postscript: you can always tell an offcomer to Cumbria by the way they pronounce ‘Bowness’ (or ‘Penrith’ for that matter). The emphasis should be on the first syllable and not the second: BO-nuss rather than bo-NESS, ditto, PEN-reth and not pen-RITH! (In other words, to a Cumbrian, Bowness is a true rhyme with shown us!)