Beautiful but smelly

Betjeman, Haidoku and Carol vorderman

Ever since the rather drunken picnic with john Betjeman on hampstead heath I have been a great fan of poetry and have a crack at it myself from time to time.

I am also an avid viewer of countdown repeats (the programme ended for me with the departure of Carol Vorderman) as well as an occasional sudoku do-er. I have tried to combine all three interests with a new verse form.

the Haidoku combines the rigid structure of the Haiku with the numerical content of the Sudoku; there must be three lines containing nine words, the words must be the numbers one to nine with no number repeated. The following is (I think) my best effort to date:

Carol Vorderman

One seven three
four... Six nine two
five. EIGHT!

Tap dancers, surgeons, soap and Frida Kahlo.

I have the hands, said Caz, of a tap dancer, combined with the feet of a surgeon. she made these observations as she watched me turn off the hot tap in my bath with a deft flick of my ankle.

I told her the story of the tap dancers hands.

The soap bubbles were full of her laughter; they burst with joy.

Nurse Caz says that I am as bad as Frida Kahlo; taking photographs of my foot all day long.

Grayson Perry, Nicholas Serota and the Chelsea flower show

I have recently discovered crumpets.

yesterday nurse Caz thought it a good idea to visit the Chelsea flower show... how wrong she was!














Nurse caz insisted on a wheel chair for the occasion; I was therefore wheeled through a seething mass of people with my head at arse height. I saw nothing of the show and soon became fractious. Nurse Caz bought some velcro plant ties which cheered me up a little.

Her stiletto heels sank into the ground whenever we tried to go off piste, resulting in me pushing the nurse in the wheel-chair much to the amusement of the County set!

I thought I saw Grayson Perry arm in arm with Nicholas Serota at one point but was mistaken; it was a couple from Tamworth. The likeness was uncanny though!

I had forgotten to take my camera with me but consoled myself once back home by photographing the fox-gloves nurse caz has planted for me in the garden.

Nude wrestling and Mahler

I was unable to sleep last night and so arose and made my way to the gin bottle...

Nurse Caz had beaten me to it. I found her in the snug sipping a pink gin, comforting herself with the nude wrestling scene in 'Women in love' on the video machine.

pink gin

We got onto the subject of childhood memories. She recited the following poem:

The monster in my house

Creeping through the house one night
I hear the monster that goes hump
It isn’t in the sitting room (that place is quite a dump)
It isn’t in the kitchen
Nor in the little parlour
It isn’t in my brother’s room
Listening to Mahler.
I nearly catch it in the loo
Or at least I thought I did
When I go in I soon find out
That isn’t where it’s hid.
IT isn’t in the laundry room
Nor in the airing cupboard
And if it’s in my parents room
Then they are surely buggered.

An Amanuensis speaks of unspeakable things

My trusted scribe and diarist has recently taken to treading the boards with his morcels of prose. I intend to escort nurse Caz to the Irish Centre in Camden Square on the 28th of this month to see what the boy is up to. I am hoping that he will not use any of my private musings as grist for his mill.

Nurse Caz has promised to wear her Junior red cross hygiene medal for the occasion.

A video exists of his 'gig' (horrible word) at Mesoteric in Hammersmith.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xgJWfowdQo0&feature=channel_page

Hygiene and wendy in bondage

Oh joy of joys.

Yesterday afternoon as I was leafing through a book of paintings by Tai-Shan Schierenberg (check him out) nurse Caz shimmered into my field of vision in her crisply starched uniform set off by a pair of pink kitten heeled mules. (I have been feigning deafness for some weeks now; obliging her to lean forwads in order to speak into my ear) She leant forward and the pendulous watch on her breast raced towards the cocktail hour.

'I have something special to show you Jannie.'

She took me by the hand and led me to her room, I sat on the edge of her bed as she went to a small set of drawers, rummaged briefly then turned and placed an object in my hand. I looked down as she said: 'My junior Red Cross hygiene medal.'

Such was my elation at having shared such an intimate moment with my muse that I immediately took her to greenkensal and bought her a charming print of Peter Pan tying Wendy to the mast.... www.greenkensal.co.uk

Fluentes Maiale.

My old friend and sparring partner Fluentes Maiale has arrived in London for an extended stay. He is an outstanding comedian and raconteur (as well as the worlds only professional Mexican waver) and may well be doing a few surprise gigs while he is here...