Pretentious menus

Stuff is "delicately balanced",
Or it "nestles" on a bed.
It has something "drizzled" over it
(Or sprinkled on instead.)

You can guarantee such toppings
Have been "shaved", or perhaps "infused",
Or "tossed", "chopped", "lightly toasted" -
Or otherwise abused.

The courgette flower's a "beignet"
(Which means it's fried in batter),
And the sea bream that's "sustainable",
Lies lifeless on a platter.

One sausage has been "orchard reared".
Another's "outdoor bred".
It's good that once they frolicked,
But this "duo" are both dead.

"Sumpt-u-ous, mouth watering"
Describes what you might nibble.
Let's hope the linen napkin
Can accommodate the dribble.

The "prime cuts" are cooked skilfully,
And also with duplicity,
On apple wood and elder,
And with what they call "simplicity".

The "cow's milk mozzarella"
Has been "carefully hand torn"
There's "seedling veg", and "pureed peas"
And "toothsome" baby corn.

The scallops have been "hand dived",
The olive oil's "cold pressed"
It's also "extra virgin" -
And, to boot, divinely blessed?

The "lamb" has been "sourced locally",
For you especially "chosen",
And the crushed ice in your cocktail
Is the only food that's frozen.

There's something with a "beurre noisette".
"What's that?" you may well mutter.
I think it's what we used to call
A little knob of butter.

The spinach has been "foraged".
It is never ever picked.
If this makes your greens taste better,
Who am I to contradict?

I'll have a plate of anything
That doesn't come with "foam",
Or "sprigs" or fancy trimmings.
And I'll wish I'd stayed at home.

For details of my other books - Britannia's Glory and James the Third - please see the blog/post of each, both dated October 2024.

Stephanie's Hen Party

Steph is getting married
So we organised a bash.
The challenges we set her
Earned badges for a sash.


Drinking through straw spectacles,
A gallop (minus horse),
First aid with no bandage,
And accosting men (of course).




Making stylish outfits
With tatty stuff that clashes.
And finding blokes with facial hair,
To match six false moustaches.




Eating dangling donuts
(Use of hands was not allowed).
Pole dancing round lamp posts
(Thus attracting quite a crowd).




Stuffing flumps into the mouth,
And saying "chubby bunny".
The Selkirk Grace in Scottish
Making Rabbie Burns sound funny.



A portrait of fiancé,
Brush between the teeth - how loony.
The likeness would have been quite good,
(If due to wed Wayne Rooney).




A quiz about her childhood,
Not as easy as you'd think,
With we hens no longer sober -
All had far too much to drink.

One challenge was to write a limerick about her intended, as follows:

At a party one warm summer's night.
I met Paul. It was love at first sight.
Now look where we've got.
We are tying the knot,
Which is good: he's a bit of alright!

For details of my other books - Britannia's Glory and James the Third - please see the blog/post of each, both dated October 2024.

After Dinner Speech

It's a long story, but I was recently asked to give the after-dinner speech at the Greenwich Maritime Institute's annual event. The theme of the evening was fishing, a subject about which I know very little. This verse was penned for inclusion in the speech:

I have four good friends I grew up with.
None of them lived far away.
Somehow we never lost contact,
And we're all very close to this day.

Two are now based in America,
But the wonders of email are "neat".
We're in touch on a regular basis,
Even though it's not often we meet.

When asked to come here as guest speaker,
I shared this peculiar news,
I told them the subject was fishing
And, to boot, I must seek to amuse.

Diana now tried to be helpful,
With advice on tonight's celebrations,
Turns out she was active with Green Peace,
And said, "Mention the plight of cetaceans."

Chris's Gran gutted fish for a living
Near Lowestoft, so it appears.
Her memories might have been useful
But the old girl's been dead forty years.

"Live bait or lure?" queried Karen,
Then explained all - with great expertise.
It seemed that my old pals from Morden,
Considered this subject a breeze.

Would Viv now pipe up and surprise me
With some knowledge of bays, coves and creeks?
Would she offer to send me her thesis,
On demersal long line techniques?

Her name soon appeared in my inbox.
I took three deep breaths to prepare.
She wished me good luck, and she asked me,
"What are you going to wear?"


Also, welcome to our new viewers from Belarus, Lithuania, Haiti and Antigua & Barbuda.
Your flags have been added to the Hello World blog of April 2013: http://www.baabaapinksheep.co.uk/2013/04/hello-world.html

For details of my other books - Britannia's Glory and James the Third - please see the blog/post of each, both dated October 2024.

Maggot racing

When my brother and I were little,
We used to go fishing with Dad,
Who didn't allow us to wander,
So there wasn't much fun to be had.

But we noted a boxful of squirming,
And the old tartan rug we had brought.
We decided to try racing maggots.
Thus developed our own unique sport.

The "track" was a red square of blanket.
A white line was where to begin.
A thicker green stripe was the finish,
And the first one to reach it would win.

We picked out our chosen contestants,
Then discovered our plan had a flaw:
We cheered and we shouted instructions,
Which the creatures would always ignore.

Though these larvae were not always helpful,
We persisted and collected some data,
The yellow ones seemed to be faster,
But the pink ones would wiggle much straighter.

For details of my other books - Britannia's Glory and James the Third - please see the blog/post of each, both dated October 2024. 

The Sport of Kings

King James brought one passion to England -
The organised racing of horses -
And near Newmarket set up a palace,
Plus the first of a number of courses.

Of the next Stuart monarchs who followed,
Charles the Second was perhaps the most keen.
This delight in competitive gallops,
Has been passed to our present-day queen.

"Sport of kings" is the name that's been given
To the running of gee gees round tracks,
And the presence of blue-blooded punters,
Is something no big meeting lacks.

For the Newbury races next weekend,
We bought tickets, and did this online.
The stuff to fill in was amazing -
To the posh kind of person a shrine.

The section "About You" as always,
Included some details deemed vital.
It started with name, as expected,
Then we got to the bit headed "title".

In the box that dropped down there were options:
"Lord", "lady", "viscount" and "sir"...
"Colonel", "professor" and "sergeant" -
On all these we had to demur.

We went for a simple plain "mister",
In our heads then placed some sort of wager.
Would we qualify, thus gaining entry?
Or should we have opted for "major"?

For details of my other books - Britannia's Glory and James the Third - please see the blog/post of each, both dated October 2024.

Tattoos

Welcome to our new viewers from Puerto Rico, Pakistan and Georgia. Your flags have been added to the Hello World blog from April 2013:
http://www.baabaapinksheep.co.uk/2013/04/hello-world.html


It was recently grandson Fred's birthday.
To a party his friends were invited.
This was held at a miniature railway,
With which Freddie was wholly delighted.

His Dad, for the small ones' amusement,
Was busy applying tattoos.
The motifs were all of small creatures:
The kids were invited to choose.

The method was some kind of transfer,
A wet sponge ensured they would stick.
I'm a grown-up, but wanted to try one,
And Richard said, "Please take your pick."

The smiley-faced snail was quite tempting,
And the butterfly, spider and worm.
But the ladybird seemed most appealing:
The "tattooist" made sure it was firm.

It was only at that point I queried,
How long this adornment would last.
"A day or two perhaps," was the answer.
But it seemed to be stuck pretty fast.

The bug that I wear isn't tiny:
It's not life-size and cutely to scale.
Its proportions are those of a fifty pence piece:
All attempts to remove it would fail.

I started with soap and a soaking,
With a pumice stone then did a tussle.
Next I went to the household stuff cupboard,
For the product they call "Mr Muscle",

Which didn't live up to its promise.
Cillit Bang couldn't deal with the "stain".
Am beginning to think that this critter and I
Forever, as one, will remain.

Several days on, am still searching,
For what might just possibly work.
Or acceptance that folk view it kindly,
As a senile-old-lady type quirk.

For details of my other books - Britannia's Glory and James the Third - please see the blog/post of each, both dated October 2024.

Hair dye

My hair's sort of brownish, but to my dismay,
There were more than a handful of strands that were grey.

My birthday arrived - I had turned sixty-three -
And was feeling in need of a more youthful me.

The "greys" really bugged me - they just didn't suit.
They were not only white, but were wiry to boot.

In the car's rear view mirror, whenever I glanced,
They seemed to be multiplied, strangely enhanced.

Some colour was called for, but which one to choose
From the massive selection, in various hues?

And what type of product? The permanent stuff?
Or the sort that would go, if you washed it enough?

I selected the latter, although it might fade,
And "medium brown" seemed a safe-sounding shade.

What to do wasn't tricky - quite simple in fact.
I complied with instructions, my timing exact.

I rinsed off the gunge, like it said in the pack,
Which was when I discovered my hair had turned black.

I should have expected to meet with some hitch.
My husband observed that I looked like a witch.

My daughter advised, when I asked what to do,
"Use washing-up liquid, instead of shampoo."

So that's what I tried, but my locks are still risible.
They are still very dark - and the grey's once more visible.

For details of my other books - Britannia's Glory and James the Third - please see the blog/post of each, both dated October 2024.