A Summer Ode - and the Odious Global Condition.

In English we call them theatres of war, but there is not much in the way of entertainment in such places. There is so much tragedy and violence around right now – in Gaza, Iraq, Syria and Ukraine – demonstrating the brutality inherent in the Beast that is Man. Perhaps the most pernicious aspect of all is that some frequently try to justify their evil by flying banners of race or religion. Let’s be perfectly clear: there is never anything commendably national or spiritual about killing ones fellow man.

To offset all those horrendous goings-on, my summer posting is in silly-little-poem form, dedicated to all our guests who came to share their holidays with us – and to those on whom we are about to  descend shortly!

Our summer – so far

This summer we had lots of rain

 Which helped the garden grow

 But a 5-minute storm of heavy hail    

Put our veggie plants on go-slow

  

But we had lots of visitors

 To help us pass our days

 Clarinet-playing Uncle Dimitris

And Aunt Maria came from Germany to stay.

 Then we called up a local lad

Whose job can’t be much fun

He came to empty our cesspit

He must have siphoned off a ton!

 Here is his trusty turd truck

Or crap cart - gosh, naming is such fun!-

 Whether void vehicle or loo lorry

 It got ….the jobbie done!

    

Then Margaret and Alastair  

From the Shetland Isles came too

 And to continue the scatological theme

As a gift brought us ….Puffin Poo!

No sun-dried tommies this year

But sauces by the pint

Apple and peach liqueur and jam

Over winter should see us right 

 

       

 

Kristina came from Lithuania,

Swedish friends from near the north pole

 It was great having them all at the table

 But on my waistline it’s all taken its toll.

 

 

But now it’s time for moving on

We’re going off on holiday

So we must pack the cases

 For soon we’ll be on our way

To Exeter to visit Pam

Then to Rufforth for Jacqui’s ‘do’

In Edinburgh for just one night

To see Isobel and Kenny too.  

To Crieff to visit Mags and Bill

Old pals from Aberdeen

Then with sis and hubby to posh hotel

In Stirling - to live like kings and queens!

The question in my mind is this

When homeward we have landed

Will Scotland have taken the vote

And the UK be disbanded?

Just as well we leave before then

Should any blood be spilt

And just in case my husband

Is obliged to wear the kilt!

And to mark the occasion, I give you my very own rendition, in oils, of the emblem of dear old Scotia, our thistle!