Cadbury's creme eggs (again)

After Christmas has gone,
Winter still lingers on,
But soon there is one consolation.
Every year, without fail,
Crème eggs are on sale,
And I cannot resist the temptation.

Just till Easter they'll stay,
Bringing comfort my way.
Who cares if the waistline may bulge?
Or if clothing gets tighter?
A dark day is brighter
For chocolate, in which to indulge.

And now here's a good wheeze:
I've discovered they freeze!
(Don't defrost them too fast - melted's awful).
So I'm planning to buy
A whole year's supply,
And stash them away by the drawer-full.

Logging in to Amazon

I'm very fond of Amazon:
It's quick and it's efficient.
My log-in details (always there)
Mean one click is sufficient.

I'd ordered sundry items,
But this time could not connect.
An alert box popped up warning me
"Your password's incorrect".

I'd never ever changed it,
(Though, it's said, one often should).
But they'd send a code to email.
This sadly proved no good.

If I want to access "Outlook"
I must leave the page I'm on,
Then - armed with all the info -
Return to it anon.

With care, I duly noted
All the digits they required,
But these proved to be "invalid".
Had their usefulness expired?

I tried once more, to no avail.
This really did now irk.
So "Contact Us" seemed sensible,
Except this didn't work.

My query floated round my head.
The words were well rehearsed.
I clicked the link, and then found out,
I HAD TO LOG IN FIRST!

Ode to Shelagh

Shelagh Simpson, who sadly died last month was, for many years, Catering Manager at the Jessop Hospital for Women in Sheffield. She was a larger-than-life character who was funny, kind-hearted and wont to swear a lot - thus becoming known as "Mrs Bleeding Simpson". Although on a tight budget she, and her admirable staff, consistently produced extremely good food.

Environmental Health Officer (and thoroughly nice man) Roger Hart was the bane of our lives. The kitchen was located in a Victorian building, and we lived in fear of what he'd find next (and how much it would cost to rectify).

This verse was written to mark the occasion of her retirement from the NHS.


The words to describe her aren't easy to find:
Shelagh's wholly unique; she is one of a kind.
To improve patients' food they've brought in Grossman (Lloyd)
But what good your Oliver, Smith, Leith or Floyd?

Who else but our Shelagh, without qualm or gripe,
Would scour Sheffield butchers to seek out some tripe?
Just because, if not found, we would find ourselves failing,
A little old lady, who's fragile and ailing.

Oh so many times she's been put to the test,
But has never been fazed, matter not the request.
A short notice buffet? No problem, we'll try...
Could you please do mince pies? Yes, I know it's July.

Her language is colourful - says what she thinks,
But she cares, and remembers what everyone drinks.
A few more of her sort's what our service is needing,
Her departure, I'm sure, will leave all our hearts bleeding.

E'en a Hart name of Roger, who comes unannounced.
What's he chuffin' found this time? On what has he pounced?
A temperature blip? A cockroach? A cricket?
She can now grab his probe, and knows just where to stick it!

She leaves with our thanks and our love and goodwill,
And a bleeding great gap no one ever could fill.
To the young docs, she's mother; tonight she's "mine host",
So please raise your glasses, Our Shelagh, a toast!