passing time

When I don’t know what to write, I usually find a picture to post. So, not having got up early enough this morning to take any worthwhile pictures of the first snowfall of the season, I went browsing through recent photos and came across this image taken a few weeks ago at the re-vamped New Street Station, Birmingham.

Yellow lounge. New Street station, Birmingham
At the time I was struck by how inappropriately labelled the area was. The sign says “Yellow Lounge”, and yet there is very little yellow in view and it looks nothing like I would expect a lounge to look.
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looking ahead

Rubbish Friday

When I went online to find about about dates for rubbish collections, I didn’t expect the local Council to have gone into the fortune-telling game.

It seems, though, that my future is all sewn up.

What’s worse, these upcoming ‘rubbish Fridays’ include not only Christmas Day, but the first day of 2016, so the New Year will get off to a bad start.

I think it’s time for the first Bah, humbug! of the season.

unnatural creatures

I should visit my mother more often.

The first good reason for visiting her more often is that she is really quite elderly, having celebrated her 90th birthday earlier this year. The second, far more selfish reason, is that I always find ideas when I do visit. Not necessarily ideas for poems, and not necessarily useful ideas, but usually there are oddities and slantwise perspectives that amuse me.

Today I have been hearing a faint alarm sound every 30 seconds or so; I knew it wasn’t the foghorns on the estuary – not least because it has been a gloriously sunny day – and it didn’t seem to be a phone or an alarm clock. When I asked if she had any idea what it might be, my mother denied all knowledge. Eventually, though, we managed to work it out. It’s her new “solar mole repeller”.

solar mole repeller

My mother has had problems with moles in her garden for years now and we have tried all sorts of solutions.
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a new dawn

Perhaps it’s just me, but the headline below (on the BBC website the other day) conjured some bizarre images.

BBC headline: DNA project 'to make UK world leader'

As I wondered what a “UK world leader” would be like and whose dna the scientists would mix and match, there was one name that kept recurring.

Fortunately, the somewhat depressing image of the UK taking over the world with Churchill at the helm was brightened by a mental soundtrack of Tim Curry singing “I can make you a man.”

(For those who want to know the real story of the UK’s genetic research project, it’s here. As for me, I think I’ll go and re-watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show.)

en route

On a walk the other night, I came across this sign:

Kenilworth Greenway -  a permissisve bridleway with kissing gates
Bridleway marker with summer hat

I rather like the idea of a “permissive bridleway”, but I like it even more knowing that it has kissing gates installed along its route.

As the seond photo shows, the path also has way markers that hang out on the verge [sic] dressed in their glad rags.

I think perhaps I should be writing a poem entitled In summer, the permissive bridleway puts on its finery, but I fear that would be the high point of the piece and I would be unable to do it justice.

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