Facial hair removal (again)

Facial hair was the problem to tackle.
I've tried those wax strips, as you'll know.
Then someone suggested a lotion,
And I thought I would give it a go.

The "sensitive" type was then purchased.
Its "gentleness" seemed just the thing.
It was trowelled on my face as instructed.
Then the telephone started to ring.

The cream had been on for five minutes:
So not long till it must be removed.
"I'll answer that call," I decided:
Unwise, as events later proved.

"Hello," said a friend of my husband,
(Who had seemingly now disappeared).
I swiped at the cream and went searching.
My mouth in the process got smeared.

"Keep him chatting" was then the instruction.
A request I could hardly ignore.
As I spoke, what began as a tingle
Had revved up and was horribly sore.

My lips were not pink. They were scarlet!
Puffed up from their normal quite thin.
They had started to fray at the edges,
So were bordered by flaky raw skin.

With caution, I stared in a mirror.

What had happened left no room for doubt.

My pupils had deadened in horror,

And I looked like a very sick trout.

Approach depilation with caution.
Most mouths aren't inherently hairy.
Mine went scabby... took days to recover.
If I try this again, I'll be wary.

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

NatWest (yet again)

My account has certain "benefits" -
If by plane you are embarking,
One such perk is money off
The cost of airport parking.

I tried ringing "travel services".
They answered me anon.
There were four "press key pad" options,
But parking wasn't one.

I hit a random number,
Was to someone then put through.
Asked him how to book a car park?
Was told, "Haven't got a clue."

I tried logging into "membership"
And wasn't much surprised
When the email that they always use
Was bounced "unrecognized".

But another means was offered
And, determined to persist,
I typed in all my details...
Got "account does not exist".

I ventured into "web chat",
(Wearing thin now my endurance,)
Tracey told me that she couldn't help:
Dealt only with insurance.

I wrote a careful email.
It got sent! The system worked!
But responses take "around two days" -
A fact which really irked.

Though some money off our parking
Would be really very nice,
We've ignored NatWest and booked it -
And we've had to pay full price.

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

Waiting

That lady - just called to consulting room "D"
Arrived more than ten minutes later than me!
In hospitals, hanging round's what people do...
But from here, looks like somebody's jumping the queue.

If I dared, I would ask but there seems little use:
They'd just make up a reason, some half-baked excuse,
Like "There's lots of rooms running, and some move through faster."
Why is waiting, for me, such a total disaster?

Of the lines in a bank, why do I choose to join
The one where they're counting a suitcase of coin?
As for airports, they're guaranteed sources of stress:
Approaching the check-in, one tries to assess
Which passenger's passport is just out of date?
Whose luggage will be half an ounce overweight?
I opt and I know as I shuffle along
That, despite all that care, my decision was wrong.

So here, in this clinic, there's surely no doubt
Mine's the room no one goes in - or never comes out.

I could do with the loo or, for certain, I'll burst
But can't leave, in case someone goes sneaking in first.
Those magazines all look so dog-eared and dated,
Thumbed by those who, before me, have sat here and waited;
The recipes torn out, e'en now being cooked
By the bored, the frustrated...the great overlooked.

Still, there's one on the pile and it seems fairly new.
I'll just have a quick glance: nothing better to do......
Drat! They're calling my name! Now I'll never discover
If Sue stayed at home, or eloped with her lover!

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

R.I.P Billy

No more white hairs on the duvet.
No more "What's today's treat?" plea.
No more woof-and-tail-wag greeting,
No more, "Get off the settee!"

No more noises on the staircase
Of the softly leaping paw.
Now no company at bath time
Will come nudging through the door.

No more nuzzles for attention -
("I just want a bit of fuss.")
No more shadowing his people
'cause he needs to be near us.

No more bounding through the woodland...
Stops for sniffs along the street...
No more taking in the evening scents,
Nor licking someone's feet.


No more frenzy of excitement
Of a pal who's overjoyed...
Just an empty bed, an empty bowl,
An awful senseless void.

He was loyal. He was loving.
He was everybody's friend.
He was handsome. He was gentle,
And did not deserve his end.

Oh for one more chance to stroke that head,
Say, "Love you, little guy."
He was special. He was Billy....
....and we never said, "Goodbye."



Billy Penn, part of our family for more than 13 years, was
tragically run over yesterday afternoon. RIP best dog.

Facial waxing

We five friends all go way back to childhood,
We are sticking at "late middle age".
We're in regular touch and swap stories,
Of the "hold back the years" fight we wage.

Plaiting eyebrows and other such measures...
Our struggles to keep nicely thin...
Moustaches that seem to be growing,
Plus the stray wires that sprout from the chin.

We ask ourselves, "Does all this matter?
Does it bother us? Why should we care?"
But I knew that I had to try something,
To get rid of my fine facial hair.

So I went to the chemist's this morning,
Scanned the shelves and the stands and the racks,
Found a product that promised an answer:
It was boxed, and contained strips of wax.

The instructions were somewhat perplexing,
Though some drawings were there as a guide.
One lot fell in the bath and was useless,
But one length was duly applied.

I pressed this down gently but firmly,
Under nose and along upper lip,
Then got hold of the small tab of paper
Which, as promised, was "easy to grip".

I took some deep breaths for a minute
(As, for what lay ahead, one must brace,)
Next, I tugged hard - a single swift movement -
In that quest for a perfect bald face.

I winced at the burning sensation...
Checked the strip for the whiskers therein...
What I held now appeared to be empty -
With the residue stuck to my skin.

I opened an "aftercare" sachet -
One of four that my small kit supplied -
But the oil on the wipe was quite useless,
On the wax that had clumped up and dried.

Should I purchase my own special razor?
Shave each morning, in common with men.
Where I waxed is now sore, red and sticky,
And the verdict is "never again"!

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

Anyone know what this kitchen appliance does?

We cleared our kitchen cupboards,
Their contents to assess,
And found a strange appliance:
What it does we cannot guess.

This "thing" was made by Bauknecht
And, it seems, was rarely used.
We examined its components,
And they left us quite confused.

We checked on sundry retail sites.
Our gizmo can't be found.
It's a processor of some sort,
As a motor drives it round.

It contains a sort of basket,
In a top which has a spout.
There's a funnel (used to feed stuff in?)
But what on earth comes out?

There are sadly no instructions.
The machine was in no box.
And, until we find its purpose,
It will only serve to fox.

 

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

Operation Chariot - the raid on St. Nazaire

This month marks the 75th anniversary of one of the most daring raids of all time. It was an attack on the heavily fortified German-held port of St Nazaire in occupied France. This was the only Atlantic place large enough to accommodate German warships for repair: the damaged Bismarck had been heading there when she'd been sunk in May 1941. Meanwhile, the powerful Tirpitz was lurking in Norway...


Though the Bismarck is no more,
There's another man of war:
The Tirpitz just off Norway has remained.
There she stays, a fleet in being -
Our navy stops her fleeing,
But must tie up ships to make sure she's contained.

If she ventures from her lair,
She'd be shot, and need repair:
In just one Atlantic place she might be mended.
She would certainly head there:
It's the port of St Nazaire,
With its huge dry dock, all heavily defended.

Do the Brits have the ability
To strike this fine facility?
Soldiers manning massive guns are standing guard.
The entrance, closed and gated,
Cannot be penetrated...
Unless, maybe, it's hit by something hard?

This port must be attacked,
So the Campbeltown is packed
With explosives in a steel and concrete case.
By this heavy load encumbered,
This vessel's days are numbered.
It is hoped she will obliterate that base.

The Germans must not know
Of our plans to land a blow.
It's essential they are taken by surprise.
So the funnels she now bears
Make her look like one of theirs:
She will travel to her target in disguise.

Those who'll see this mission through
Have a lot of work to do.
They practise laying charges in the dark.
Once on land they will disperse
But beforehand must rehearse
Until, finally, they're ready to embark.

Those involved are highly skilled,
In their roles have been well drilled,
And courage isn't something that they lack.
Everyone could change his mind -
An offer all declined -
Although most of them would fail to make it back.

Five miles up the Loire...
All is going well so far
In what's shaping up to be a wartime thriller.
By a feat of navigation
They will reach their destination -
One big ship and an eighteen craft flotilla.

The whole schedule has been timed
And, with fuses duly primed,
The Campbeltown  now slams into the gate.
Once the entrance has been rammed,
Our ship is firmly jammed -
According to the plan, four minutes late.

Things have not gone undetected.
There's resistance, as expected.
Under fire, there is a tragic human cost.
They're in something of a scrape,
With no means of escape.
Almost every single little boat is lost.

Those who make it onto land,
Lay their charges, as was planned.
Some are captured and are out for the duration.
But the job has been well done.
Adolf Hitler this will stun,
So complete was the resultant devastation.

Once our big ship had impacted,
Local interest was attracted...
And occupying soldiers came to view.
On her decks, these Germans strode,
Unaware she would explode:
A massive bang the last thing that they knew.

This tale's a shortened version
Of a dangerous excursion,
And the full account is certain to enthral.
So meticulously planned,
By the bravest it was manned
And, in short, was dubbed "the greatest raid of all".

HMS Campbeltown prior to explosion

Ⓒ Maggie Ballinger, 2017

This verse is an extract from Britannia's Glory - A Maritime Story. For details of this, and my other book - James the Third - please see the blog/post of each, both dated October 2024.