...with love all things are possible

Believe ...

Believe ...

Thursday, 31 May 2012

... a bathtub!

            Knock and the door shall open – seek and you shall find.  Ask through a blog and it will be given you.  I cannot believe it, by little blog was read by so many people and all sorts of creative ideas came spurting forth.
            However, like all good competitions, (not that this was an official competition), I have narrowed down the entries (very difficult I must say) and we have a winner!
            Thank you to my friend Lynnie in Bucks for this bathtub!  Right up my alley and perfectly within my budget.  Thanks to a precision pair of scale Vernier Calipers (in inches) I was able to ascertain that the bathtub was indeed the perfect size and most importantly: DEPTH!
            That's when the penny dropped.  I couldn’t have that bathtub. No how.  No way.  It was in therapy …

            Thoughtful as I am, I quickly changed my sights and I do have my eye on this one – I think I’ll put in an offer tomorrow after I find those scale Vernier Calipers … now where did I put them?

Friday, 25 May 2012

All I want is ...

The problem begins with the fact that I have English genes, albeit bastardized genes these days, but at their root they're English, so I like to soak.  In a deep hot bath, that is.
The bastardized part comes from living my life in Uruguay and the US, where showers are king.  I like having showers, don’t get me wrong.  Showers in the morning, showers at noon, or before supper after a hard day’s work – yes, those showers are great.  But after supper?  No.  Now way.  Showers don’t cut it.
After supper it’s lights-out-candles-on and time for slipping into a piping hot pool of peace.  Alone.  Winding down to steam off the day’s layers of whatever.  Peace, perfect peace.
So, since we’re fixing up the little house we've just bought, I’ve been commissioned to find a tub for myself.  Simple. Home D should do the trick.  Ya think?
They have ankle warmers, kiddies’ paddle baths and their deepest “soaker” wouldn't even reach my bum.  OK, OK, I know I have a very large bum these days, I’m conscious of the problem there, but it wouldn’t cover your bum either!  Unless you were under ten.
So it’s off to the dreaded Lowes (or Low S as Carlos calls it).  Unhelpful as always, they direct me to a large counter where a 3-foot-long horizontal-pole-bound collection of wretched catalogues awaits me.   But after a while I find what I’m looking for!  Hooray!  Claw foot, 60 inches by 30 inches by (bliss) 22 inches depth.  I’m so thrilled I even forget my Low S grudge. 
Grinning from ear to ear I approach the salesman again, who’s still (s)talking to the saleswoman about their weekends.  I have to wait until they reach a point where I can politely interrupt. 
“The price is in the back of the catalogue,” he points to the place I’ve just come from.  They resume their conversation and I’m banished to the Low S library again.
Who cares?  I can do it without them; I enjoy self-checkout lines and self-serve gas pumps.  I get to the page and suddenly every ounce of Low S hatred returns.  It costs almost as much as my car! 
Stubborn though, I plow through three more tomes.  It’s impossible; they’re all just as useless as the Home D tubs.  Every page I flip tells a similar story and I get more and more frustrated.  Can’t one of them help me?
I turn to look at them, sniggering and chatting together, no, they're too busy, so I stalk off towards the exit.  Yeah I have a big bum, yeah I came in dressed in my shorts and flip flops, but I came in on a mission.  I came to spend money.  Obviously I wasn't the type of customer who'd be in a position to spend that kind of money (oh Richard Gere where are you?)  and they sussed me out.  They were right.
So I’m hunting online now.  Carlos is hunting online as well.  In fact, because he gets up earlier than I do, he’s probably hunted more that I have.  But there isn’t a single soaker, in my price range, to be found.  
Maybe I’ll get a kiddies’ blow up pool and put that in the bathroom instead.  I’ve been known to do silly things like that.

Tuesday, 15 May 2012

Goat on float

Goat on float

A boat!
A boat!
That day
On the Moat
His window
Boy spied
A little red boat

The boat
Was afloat
On the Moat
Near O’Groat
And a man
Came out
And got into
That boat.

Then a
Second man
Dressed in
A float,
Walked out
And came
Down the
Path to that boat.

The man
With a float
Had a cake
And a goat.
A goat with
A bell and
They got into
The boat

Mouthed the man
As he raised
A hand.
Out! Out
Boy ran
To listen
To their plan.

“Wait,” said
The man
“Have you brought
My float?
Have you brought
My float
Which I left
In my tote?”

“I forgot!”
Said the man
And he slapped
His head.
“Hang onto
My goat
I’ll go back for
Your float”

The man
With a float
Got off the boat
As his friend
Held the collar
The throat
Of the goat.

Soon the man
With the float
Came back
To the boat
He came out
To the boat
With a note
And a tote

“Not the tote”
Said the friend
Still holding
The goat
“Just the float
That’s inside
That silly
Blue tote”

“That’s the thing”
Said the man,
The man
In the float,
“That’s why
I came back
With this note
From your

“A note
From my tote?”
He said holding
The goat.
“Yes one
I’d earlier
Pulled from the mouth
Of my goat”

“And what says
The note
That you found
By my tote?
What says
That note
Almost eaten
By your goat?”

Dear Joe,”
Says the note,
Read the friend
In the float
Dear Joe,”
Says Peyote
Your old friend
In Remote.

I’m borrowing
Your float
From your tote
At Remote,
Your float
With the sleeves
That looks
Like a coat.

It’s cold
Here tonight
In Remote,
He wrote,
I was cold
So I took
Your float
From the tote.”

“Well, well,”
Muttered Joe,
“Well, well,
What to do?
Seems I’m
Stuck now
With note
And no float
For my boat."

"What now?”
Said the friend
To the friend,
“What to do?
Now I’m here
On my boat
And it’s there
In Remote?”

He let go
Of the goat
And groaned
As he wrote
With a finger
In the air

“We can’t
Go for a ride
Not even
A float”
And as he spoke
The goat
Jumped right off
The boat!

“Oh no!”
Yelled the friend
In the float
“I can’t swim!
My goat!
It can’t swim!
It will sink
In the Moat!”

“Help! Help!”
Yelled the men
As they looked
For the goat.
“Help! Help!”
They called out
Not seeing
The goat.

Boy ran
For his float
Then ran out
Like a shot
And hurled
Donut float
Attached to a rope.

He knew
By rote
How to save
In the Moat
So he called
To the goat
“Hey, Billy!
Grab that float!”

In a mountain
Of foam
Billy Goat
The water broke
Reached the float
Was tied a

“Pull! Pull!”
Cried the men
From the
Bow of the boat
“Save the goat!
Save the goat!
Someone help!
We can't swim!”

“Good boy
Billy Goat!”
Boy called as
Goat’s teeth
Sank deep
As it grabbed
One side of
The float.

“That’s it
Billy Goat!
Bite tight
Don’t let go!”
“Pull! Pull!”
Cried the men
Getting off
Their red boat.

“Swim! Swim!”
Boy yelled
As the goat fought
The Moat.
“I’m pulling!”
Boy yelled to
The men
From the boat.

But the goat
Was big
And the boy
Was small
And the men,
Who were foolish,
Feared crossing
The Moat.

Downriver was
A bridge, our
Folklore told,
‘Neath which lived
Dote troll
Who ate things
The Moat

Dote spied them
And caught them,
His dinner
To make;
From the bridge
Or the water,
His prey he
Would take!

The men
Were afraid,
So they called
And they yelled.
But boy’s hands
Slipped and bled
On the rope
To the goat.

One last tug
Might have had him,
But on handovers
So the current took
The goat
On the donut

“Oh no!”
Cried the men
As they watched
Boy fall.
“Oh no!”
Boy yelled as he
Tumbled off
The wall.

With a splash
Boy was in
Right after
The goat.
Then the current
Sucked him down,
To’ard the
Bridge of

The bell
Of the goat
Did clang as
He fought
And the float
Kept him up
As he howled
From his throat.

“To the bridge!”
Boy called,
Now desperate for
Some help,
As he swam for
The goat
And his life
To’ard the float.

“The cake! 
The cake!
Take the cake
To the troll!”
He spluttered
As he swam
Best he could
In the Moat.

The troll popped out
As the bell
He heard,
Stamped his feet
Rubbed his hoofs
And with
A grin
He did gloat.

Boy swam,
Boy fought
Till he reached
The rope.
Then the goat
With a shriek
Bit onto
Boy’s coat.

But the Moat
Pulled the boy
And the goat
Way on down,
As the men
Now emboldened
Carried cake
To the troll.

Old Dote
Got his net
And yelled
“By Bloat!
What a meal
I shall have,
From above
And below!”

That’s when Joe
From the boat,
The one in the float,
With the cake
Reached the
Bridge and
Yelled out
To the troll:

“Hey troll!
Lookie here
Come ‘n see
What we’ve got!”
And together stormed
The bridge
Just as Dote
Cast his net.

Boy screamed,
Men stomped
And the goat
On the float
Bleated loud
As the troll
Did emote:

“Get the goat
On the float?
Or the boy in
The coat?
Or the cake?
Or those
On my bridge?”

If you
Were a troll,
By the name
Of Dote,
Would you eat
For dinner:
Boy, float,
Or goat?

Does say,
(Tho' not confirmed,
No way!)
That the troll
Called his
Friends and
The lot
They ate.