I signed up for the A to Z blogging challenge for April, to see if I had the discipline. Here is the link and the rules. So I need a theme (well, it’s not strictly necessary but it does seem to be slightly de rigeur) and the indomitable spirit to post every day bar Sundays in April.
My theme (as you might guess from the title) is places. So why somewhere in Wales that I went to once as a boy scout and of which my only memory is one of my peers shoplifting and me having to run, helter-skelter, to avoid being wrongly done for a crime I did no more than tacitly aid and abet (though I will accept two charges of eating stolen goods)?
Limericks, that’s why. My Dad loved them. It was the earliest form of poetry that I understood and enjoyed. Dad loved people giving him a first line and he would complete the rest. He told me, as a youngster that the most difficult first line he had ever been given was
‘There was a young man from Aberystwyth’
And he followed it with something like this
‘Whose friends he’d go out to get pissed with
But his girl did reject him,
Saying, just to deject him:
‘These luscious lips, you’ll not be kissed with’
He managed some better ones…
On the subject of nose pickings…
‘Nose Pickings’ said Mrs McGraw
Have practical uses galore
By rolling and folding
And carefully moulding
You can make condoms, cheap, for the poor.’
Or when he saw a statue in our garden, which we inherited when we moved in,
A poet, cast in concrete
said, ‘I don’t wish to be indiscreet;
But it’s a bit of a sod,
Here on your tod
When the dogs piss on your feet.’
And while this many not have been his, it was a favourite for its fabulous non-rhyme
There was a young lady from Bude
Who went to swim in the lake
A man in a punt
Stuck a pole in her ear
And said, ‘You can’t swim here, it’s private’.
So what are your favourites? Cleaner? Cleverer? Or just ones that bring back silly memories?