Thursday, 22 August 2013

Barry (With Apologies To Leonard Cohen)

Barry takes you down
To his place above the chip shop
You can hear the trucks go by
You can smell potatoes frying
And you know that he’s half crazy
And you’d really like to leave now
But he feeds you bread and marmite
That came all the way from Tesco’s
And he shows you his apartment
And it really is quite grotty
And just when you mean to tell him
That you’ve got to catch the late bus
He offers you some biscuits
That have chocolate on one side
That just seem so very tempting

And you want to call a taxi
When he tells you all the time
He’s been wearing womens’ undies
Now you’ll never wipe that image from your mind

Barry used to be a sailor
At the local water centre
And he used to own a speedboat
That he won on some old game show
But when he knew for certain
He was moving to the chip shop
He swapped it for a Rover
Which came all the way from Luton
And he gets out some more biscuits
With some jam in and rice paper
And he’s got a stamp collection
That could clearly last for hours

And there’s no sign of that taxi
And you’ve lost track of the time
And you’re thinking of those knickers
Yes you know you’ll never get them off your mind

Now Barry takes your hand
And he leads you to the chip shop
But the food is far too greasy
And your ulcer is complaining
And he really is depressing
As he talks of stamp collections
But he gets out some more biscuits
And this time they’re digestives
And you start to feel quite guilty
That you find him oh so dreary
He is leaning out for love
And will be that way forever
So you eat another biscuit

And you finally hear that taxi
And he chases you outside
Still wearing women’s knickers
And that image never fades within your mind

By the way - my blog is only allowing me to create posts in HTML - does anyone have any ideas what i can do about this?

Thursday, 1 August 2013

It Must Be Thursday: Sleeping On The Job

“Sleep, those little slices of death: how I loathe them” I can’t say that I entirely agree with the above quote from the Godfather of Horror Edgar Rice Burroughs, I mean – who doesn’t like a nice kip? But then Burroughs was an odd man, always banging on about scary birds squawking “nevermore” and dying in circumstances that could barely have been more mysterious if Scooby Doo and the gang had been investigating them. But if there’s one thing that I DO hate about sleep it’s the way it tries to creep up on you at inappropriate times. As far as I’m concerned sleep should come a) when you have put your head on the pillow at night or b) when I call upon it to do so – IE when trying to sleep on the train in the morning. I do so envy those people who can fall instantly and on demand into a deep sleep when on the move – myself I find myself jerking endlessly awake at the merest movement of the track, with my head lolling forward or my neck twisted at an angle that should only be possible for owls or at the endless loud clanking of the doors of the train. As I have previously mentioned: public transport seems to be deliberately designed to make the action of sleep impossible. Bus windows vibrate whenever the vehicle draws to a halt, train window ledges are too narrow to perch an elbow and there was, believe it or not, talk of transmitting adverts through the windows of trains that would be amplified by the bones in your head when you leaned on it But the type of sleep that I have no time for is the one that comes in the mid afternoon when your head starts nodding as your brain decides it wants to switch off. Sometimes there is just no fighting it and the only option is to sink down into your chair and let your eyes close, but at others it is a constant battle not to be overcome. Every time this happens to me Herself always says “why don’t you just go and lie down for a while” and the answer is actually very simple. What I hate isn’t so much the fact of falling asleep during the day, although it is a classic sign that I am Getting Older – what I hate is the way I feel afterwards. Every time this happens to me I wake up feeling sick to the stomach, my head full of shadows that take at least 20 minutes to clear. A Hot Beverage (being British this has to be Tea) will sometimes help, but mostly there is nothing to do but ride the wave and try to come out the other side with your shower cap still firmly in place (so to speak) It makes me dread the day when I am truly old and have nothing to do but sit in a chair and snooze in between being patronised by people - although given this possible future I might have no choice but to become a Rambler or, even worse, a Morris Dancer in my dotage (old age is the right time for growing scraggly beards and dancing around a maypole bashing sticks together and waving handkerchiefs in the air) So if anyone has a good tip to avoid falling asleep during the day, or even for waking up without feeling like one has been dragged through a cess pit – please do let me know PS - my apologies for the formatting of this post: i seem to be having account problems