During these difficult times, the ICG’s resident poet, Nanda Marchant has been composing little ditties to make us smile … see more of her work on Facebook/ThePerkyPoet
Nanda has self-published a book of her Covid-busting odes on Amazon. All proceeds go to a local children’s hospice who have seen a dramatic fall in funds due to Covid.
The Upgrade (5th November)
There’s nothing like technology to ‘put you in the room’
No need to leave your cosy home – just click the mouse and Zoom
No dressing up, no ‘suit and boot’, no looking high and mighty
Instead, just fall right out of bed and sit there in your nightie
No dashing off to catch the train, no traffic stress, no race
The only thing you need to do is maybe wash your face
No chilly winds, or getting wet, when outside it’s turned rainy
No lengthy make-up needed as the pics can be quite grainy
All in all, it’s brilliant, yet there are some downsides too
I’ve got a few small niggles – do you suffer from them too?
I sit there with my audience and try a jaunty grin
But then catch myself on camera and spot my double chin
Transfixed by this and other flaws or blemishes I hate
I quickly find I lose my thread and cannot concentrate
On certain days there’s techy faults – I freeze or lose connection
Or sunlight glances off my specs – I’m just one big reflection
At times you’ll see a hand creep in, to bring some cake and tea
While I’m alone and back-to-back, no kindly cup for me
So I’d like some improvements and I’m hoping they’ll be made
When Zoom considers features for its imminent upgrade
As I begin my meeting and I press on the recorder
I’d like a scroll-down menu where I place my beverage order
A box for some instructions would be very handy too
‘Just come on up with my Earl Grey’ I’ll tell Deliveroo
To solve the awful camera thing and really make amends
I’d like a flattering filter or a warm soft-focus lens
The last one’s a tall order and, yes, ‘beauty’s from within’
But I’d buy the gold subscription if they’d sort my double chin!
Three Lions (9th July)
I’m no big fan of footie, it’s never been my bag
But Sunday it’s my duty to chant and fly the flag
I’m sure I will be cheering, and hoping for a gift
As getting something in the net would give us all a lift
This year has been a tough one and I’d like to smile again
The guy to help me do that could be Captain Harry Kane
Let’s hope he knocks a few in, oh that would be a dream
Or failing that I’d settle for the light-footed Raheem
Some others could deliver, and in them we must trust
It could be Saca ... Rashford, whoever, I'm not fussed
As long as they can score those goals, and show they won’t give up
I’ve fingers crossed they do us proud to see we lift that cup
And as for Gareth Southgate – a top bloke he has been
Whatever comes on Sunday hope he’s honoured by the Queen
A manager with focus, the guy’s been on a mission
(Behaves with more integrity than any politician!)
Although we've a great recipe my knees will still be trembly
On Sunday as we hit the pitch and give our all at Wembley
Gosh, this ode is lengthy and I didn’t mean to roam
But want to say let’s all just pray that ‘FOOTBALL’S COMING HOME!’
Loos, wounds and macaroons (7th May)
In our line of work the topics vary
From fun, obscure to even downright scary
One day you find you’re talking macaroons
The next the subject’s turned to gory wounds
I’ve interviewed an edgy millionaire
A lady selling lacy underwear
Some young policemen working on the beat
A job-seeker who had webbed hands and feet
I’ve been to cattle farms and factory floors
To prisons, pubs and many superstores
I love this job: the people and the range
The coverage both interesting and strange
The skills you find you’re bringing into play
When sometimes folk don’t quite know what to say
Or framing questions, delicately put
When talking halitosis … athlete’s foot
And now … the pinnacle I reach
With this week’s topic: buying online bleach
How riveting, to root around and find
The inner workings of a shopper's mind
No seriously, the guide was oh so dreary
By interview fifteen I felt quite teary
With chirpy tone I kept on trying to ask it:
‘Now tell me why you put that in your basket?
You chucked it in the trolley in a trice
So was it fragrance, brand or maybe price?
How does own label really make you feel?
How much does zapping every germ appeal?’
Before you say ‘hey that’s no major chore’
I must point out I’ve covered this before
And though more work is tempting when it’s dangled
They’ve tackled bleach from every bloody angle
I’ll top myself with one more interview
About best buys to sanitise the loo
Next week it’s piles – I’m thinking ‘Thank you God’
But is that me who’s really rather odd?!
Retirement Beckons (26th March)
Dear Rishi, I’d like to object please. My business was starting to
thrive,
When along came a change in the tax rules: the dreaded IR35
This wasn’t a simple amendment, like a drop in the dividend rate
Or another small tweak to the system. It’s a major upheaval I hate
When my clients take on a new project, requiring they call in the
troops They’ll soon have to ask themselves questions and go through a
shed load of hoops
Before, I’d just offer to help them, but now with this new legislation
It’s all about things like control, substitution and shared obligation
I’m sure that I’ll wrap my head round it and finally get in the groove
Though it’s ‘obvs’ I’m not an employee, so I’m peeved it’s a fact we must prove
With multiple clients and studies, I’m plainly no member of staff
Yet could I be trying to tax dodge? Oh Dishi, now don’t make me laugh
It’s tempting to throw in the towel. I could give window cleaning a bash
For I like the idea of a job with fresh air, where punters can pay me in cash
Or maybe it’s time for retirement. I’m too old for new rules in the mix
I’ll just get to grips with the changes, and they’ll bring in IR36!
Under Starter’s Orders (8th March)
Today’s the day no-one can scupper
First real chance to share a cuppa
Yes, today I sprang from bed
New freedoms going to my head
Lockdown’s sent me round the bend
But now am off to see a friend
We’ll get fresh air on country land
With frothy Starbucks clutched in hand
What the hell, I think I’ll risk it
Take along a little biscuit
Or even, as we stretch our legs
We could go mad and munch scotch eggs
Our choice to stand, as thirst we quench
Or hang it, sit down on a bench
What a wild, exciting date
Today’s a day to celebrate
Let’s treasure every little mo
Tarrah my lovelies, off I go!
No More Comings (19th Feb)
Written in response to Dominic Comings’ comments on the MR industry. Nanda says “I don’t normally like to drag politics into my poetry but I know how upset some of us have been this week over slurs on our industry. So when a member suggested it may provide inspiration for this week’s ode, I’m afraid I couldn’t resist”
A headline came my way this week that gave me indigestion
An ex-advisor calling our profession into question
He claimed that firms ‘lack competence and most are unreliable’
I found his words offensive and – what’s more – unjustifiable
He deems that we’re dishonest and we’re crap at focus groups
So because we can’t be trusted, he rallied his old troops
They got a juicy contract, with little need to tender
I bet they rubbed their hands with glee and dined that night in splendour
It’s sad to think that balding chap has slurred our reputations
The thought he’ll get away with it sure gives me palpitations
But I can think of something as a salve to my frustration
Is it worth considering the merits of castration?!
(Hence the title)
Wanderlust (12th February)
I’d like to book a holiday, to bring a ray of hope
Quite frankly it’s the only way I feel that I can cope
To dream of warm exotic lands, new places to explore
Of foreign foods and cultures, strange languages and more
Local crafts and artisans, quaint souvenirs to find
For now though, all that I can do is journey in my mind
I’ll just enjoy my future, however far away
But it feels like a hunger pang I’m trying to keep at bay
Cooped up at home, nowhere to roam I stare at these four walls
Recycling distant memories of the Iguassu Falls
Of aromatic India or San Francisco Bay
And other lovely places where I may return some day
My mouth begins to water thinking back to foreign dinners
So many reminiscences it’s hard to pick the winners
I count myself so lucky to have travelled far and wide
At least I have back catalogues to draw upon inside
Yet still I long to get the nod to say we can be off
And when we do, forgive me, I might stifle that dry cough
I’ll stuff down loads of lozenges, put ice-cubes on me face
To quash a hint of temperature that keeps me back at base
I'll sunbathe in a hazmat, do distancing and such
Or put my oven gloves on if there's anything to touch
I’ll triple-dose on vaccines and wear a double mask
Just get me on me holidays, is that too much to ask?!
Separation (29th January)
Life is cold, monotone, without laughter
As if you've spent months in the fridge
When you've been kept away from a loved one
And are aching to give them a squidge
When cuddles come back after Covid
(And though I'm not often a loafer)
The first thing I'll do with my daughter
Is lie for a week on the sofa
Well snuggle up tight under blankets
And binge-watch some trash on the box
Surrounded by deep downy cushions
While polishing off all the chocs
I'll sit with my favourite concoction
Of Twinings I'll slurp from my mug
Then once I feel warm and contented
I'll reach for another fat hug
Although I have funds in my ISA
No money can buy what I miss
The arms of my daughter around me
And the warmth of my child's loving kiss
So hurry on up with the vaccine
I'm quite a way down in the queue
I long for the day of home coming
Here's hoping I'm hugged black and blue!
Happy New Year 2021 (5th January)
When all around me things look bleak
And worry starts to hit its peak
You're there
When furloughed, if I'm sad and bored
And happiness can't be restored
You're there
When shut indoors, nowhere to go
As latest tier rules make it so
You're there
When I regret the year that was
You always comfort me because
You're there
I love you ...
Chocolate*
*Merlot/Kettle chips/all 3 at once - delete as appropriate
A very different Christmas (22nd December)
Life was in Clover,
But the party’s now over
It’s mayhem in Dover
We’ll try and stay perky,
But Christmas looks murky,
Some folk can’t get turkey
There’s even more trouble
They’ve downsized the bubble
Our plans turned to rubble
Yet it isn’t all gloom
Me poinsettia’s in bloom
And there’s love in the room (or on Zoom)
There may be no flights
But we’ve got party bites
And a tree decked with lights
We’ve a smell of Scot’s pine
And a fridge stacked with wine
So I’m sure we’ll be fine (hic)
Though we cannot go out
And must force down a sprout
We’ll have fun I’ve no doubt
So let’s toast: We’ll survive
And with laughter we’ll thrive
Praise be – we’re alive!
And don't forget, for a festive singalong on Xmas day ... Jingle bells, Covid smells, Brexit's on the way But oh what fun it is to know that a vaccine's on the way ...
Happy Days (4th December)
My husband's new draft beer tap is his latest favourite toy
With pubs all shut it has become a source of pride and joy
[He argued too that it was ‘green’ - recycled kegs, not tins
So bought it ‘just to do his bit’ and not clog up the bins]
He snatched it off the driver, when his van stopped to deliver
He couldn't wait to set it up and lubricate his liver
It perched upon the counter while he paced round like a fool
Suffering hours of torture in the wait for it to cool
At last it came to temperature. He popped his beer glass under
The frosted chill, the frothy head – his eyes were glazed in wonder
He took a sip and beamed, impressed, then briefly wondered how
This little pump so modest served the perfect Lowenbrau
I doubt it will be long before he's steamed through several kegs
Quite frankly it's delicious and we've BOTH got wobbly legs
He's told his pubbing mates of course, it's on their Christmas list
So, what will happen on the day and will they all be missed?
For, if Santa delivers one, forget the family carols
They'll be sloping off to garages to try out all the barrels
The moral if you want a Christmas fun and free from strife
Invest in Phillips Perfect Draft – You'll have a friend for life!
Remembrance day (8th November)
Their courage spurred them on that day
As they flew, sailed, marched away
In foreign fields were sent to roam
Fought hard but failed to make it home
Their one desire: to protect
For that they earn our deep respect
Brave souls, we owe you such a debt
Today’s your day – lest we forget
Oops! (6th November)
Home made mask?
Need you ask?
Know it looks wrong
Cos it’s a thong
Went out to roam
Left mask at home
Then got chastised
So improvised!
Covid Chrimbo (October)
LATE OCTOBER
I wonder what Christmas will bring us this year
That usual time for tinsel and cheer
When friends may turn up, smiley faced at our doors
With gifts and mince pies held aloft in their paws
Our homes look inviting, the tree is bedecked
And rellies stuff faces or drink til they’re wrecked
There's letters to Santa and stockings crammed full
Plus turkey to carve and crackers to pull
The kids get spoiled rotten and diets are blown
As we overindulge on a huge Toblerone
CHRISTMAS DAY AFTERNOON
The big day was dismal I’ve got to confess
The black cloud of Covid created some stress
Being socially-distanced left me feeling glum
No family crowd, just hubby and mum
Great boxes of crackers were left on the shelves
The ‘rule of six’ meaning we didn’t need twelves
Our fat golden turkey? Afraid no such luck
We sat there forlorn with the scrawniest duck
No visit from Santa, no reindeer for me
As our little village was deemed a ‘Tier 3’
CHRISTMAS DAY EVENING
We waved bye to mother, deflated, subdued
Having drunk little wine and just picked at our food
Imagine our shock when she came back a-knocking
To say: ‘I’ve forgotten to give you your stocking I
t was popped in the car, days ago, sanitized
So it’s now quarantined – only just realised’
‘I’m too old for stockings’ I wanted to say ‘And how could you truly lift spirits today?’
But my fears were all groundless, how wrong I had been
Cos I undid the wrapper and got the vaccine!
©Nanda Marchant : Facebook/ThePerkyPoet/
SARTORIAL SLOUCH (9th October)
Has Covid killed sexy? the newspaper asks
Now that our beauty is covered in masks
I tend to agree, as it's something I've felt
When stuck behind fabric, my make-up a-melt
Foundation rubs off, gets clingy and drippy
Plus what is the point of that bright glossy lippy?
'Go for sexy attire’ – An alternate suggestion
But one that seems pointless and out of the question
You can't rock an entrance in heels, through a room
When most of your meetings are held over Zoom
And nor can you cheekily flash a bare calf
When all that's on camera's your face and top half
Instead I’ve gone comfy and thrown out my Spanx
They conspire to constrict all my wobbles - no thanks
I’ve fully embraced a life lived in joggers
And turned all ‘authentic’ like some lifestyle vloggers
Hope others embrace the TRUE ME underneath
What the heck, I'm so chilled I've stopped brushin' me teeth!
So would they panic buy again? (25th September)
‘Twas not a case of if, but when
It started early yesterday
When toilet roll just rolled away
Then tinned tomatoes all ran low
I drew a blank in TESCO so
I turned to WAITROSE in a huff
But they were low on other stuff
For tins and bread I didn’t look far
But they were out of best foie gras
And women fought like seasoned mobsters
Over two remaining lobsters
They'd put a limit on quails' eggs
Leaving me with just the dregs
ALDI was a different story
Got some goodies, felt the glory
But there I saw a pair of fools
Stocking up on paddling pools
There's no limit on your crumpets
But they have put a cap on trumpets
You can freely find your rice
But welding kits sell in a trice
So pop in quick for your ‘best buys’
Things disappear before your eyes
For me, I feel: ‘Let’s stop this madness
Panic buying leads to sadness
I’ll just think: ‘Who gives a damn?
There’s always that old tin of Spam
I can soon blow off the dust
And face Fray Bentos if I must!
On the road (7th August)
This year we’d planned to slow it down and take exciting trips
But after things shut down in March we thought we’d had our chips
Our booking made for Serbia – a 60th surprise
Became the first one cancelled, plans dissolved before our eyes
‘Twas back on the agenda when there came a little flurry
Of countries with a ‘corridor’ – we rebooked in a hurry
With Belgrade looking promising.
But then the FCO Decided that, with riots there, we could no longer go
‘We’re still the lucky ones’ we felt, we’ve also got a ticket
For Italy, September, which we thought a safer wicket
So something to look forward to, but then to our disgust
We learnt that our provider sadly went and bit the dust
It felt like we were fated, but we chose, with trepidation
To not throw in the towel, or opt for a staycation
Instead we searched to find a place where Covid still was low
So plumped for lovely Czechia, and little-trod Brno
We followed all the guidance, washing hands, masks on the plane
And what a lovely trip it was, I now feel far more sane
I know some think it’s risky, and the fallout could be chronic
But leaving these four walls for once was truly such a tonic
The beer was great, the weather warm, the castles quite enchanted
Plus lesson learnt, to never take my freedom so for granted!
Hands … Face … Space Cadets (11th September)
Yeah I'm a minor rebel, I like to break a rule
It started in my childhood, at a straight-laced grammar school
I may not wait for the little green man
Prefer to jay walk if I can Another of my mild offences
Once stuck champers on expenses
Yeah I'm a minor rebel and I like to think I'm cool
Yeah I'm a minor rebel, but some diktats I follow
They're easy rules to flout, yet the victory would be hollow
A favourite one across these lands
Is you must often wash your hands
Another, not too much to ask
Is, shopping, you should wear a mask
Upon yer face, not under-chin
(As useless there as in the bin)
Yeah I'm a minor rebel but these rules ain't hard to swallow
There are other minor rebels, but some of tiny brain
No matter how you spell it out and ask them to refrain:
Keep your distance, save a life
Don't cause a spike and risk your wife
Scrub those hands and done those masks
But some won't do these simple tasks
They may be minor rebels but I wish they'd think again!
Lockdown love in Lutterworth (17th July)
This tale is of Maggie, a fair maid from Lutters
Cursed by Corona, her wedding in tatters
Her beau, after years, had asked for her hand
Then lockdown came in and nuptials were banned
Yes Alan, a twitcher, had wooed his love-bird
But alas his ‘I do’ just couldn’t be heard
He’d plucked up the courage and got on one knee
But months stuck indoors meant it wasn’t to be
Now at last lovely Maggie can stand by his side
As the golf club plays host to a radiant bride
A few small adjustments they needed to ask
Saying ‘please keep your distance and do bring a mask’
This didn’t phase Mags for she answered to that:
‘I’ve found one with sparkles that matches me hat
We can do without music, the pomp, and the doves
As long as we don’t need to wear rubber gloves
The rest I can stand, but that rule was a shock
I just can’t comply as they won’t match me frock!’
The venue caved in and the bride had her way
So our story ends well, twas a fabulous day
The weather held good, they remembered the rings
Friends came and gifted them all sorts of things
Vows were exchanged, and cake eaten after
They lived long and well, with life full of laughter
Revenge (3rd July)
That pigeon’s madly flapping
And the bastard has been crapping on My car
I thought he was just resting
But he squawks to me ‘I’m nesting, Ha ha ha!’
I’m sure he has no mean intent
But sadly he’s incontinent,
So no I can’t indulge that tiresome bird
And I’m afraid the little nerd Must go
He’s also looking for a mate
So DOUBLE plopping is my fate I fear
One shot would pick him off I bet
The only stumbling block’s to get The gear
What’s more he loudly coos to me
And breaks my sleep at half past three each morn
It’s time he gets what he deserves
I’m tetchy and my poor old nerves Are worn
But wait, I’ve a less evil plan
My neighbour (I can't stand the man)
And so … I’ll lob a fat ball on his roof
To lure the greedy bird there – pooff! He’ll go!
Now that, I know, would bring me cheer
Indeed, I think this new idea May work
Then ‘next door nutter’ can enjoy
Some droppings on that brand new toy, His Merc!
Don’t try this at home (19th June)
’I started YouTube yoga, to limber up my joints
‘But was it such a good idea?’ I’ve thought at certain points
I’m hopeless at the Down Dog, my hamstrings poor at stretching
With bottom pointed in the air, I never look that fetching
I gamely tried a head stand, but that I failed to knobble
My legs were flailing uncontrolled, my fat began to wobble
I had a go at Warrior – my stance would make you cringe
Especially when I lunged too hard and felt the muscles twinge
I try to watch the guru’s moves (he claims he’s best in town)
It isn’t always easy when my head’s lodged upside down
Perhaps some steps are easier, I’ll try them one day maybe
There's one I know I'm sure to like, it’s called ‘The Happy Baby’
And Corpse pose – that I’ve mastered, just lie down on my back
Start dribbling, then drop off to sleep, so think I’ve got the knack
Yet maybe yoga’s not for me because: Oh bloomin ‘eck
I’ve now been stuck for hours with my foot behind my neck!
Those were the days (6th June)
Those were the days when we went to the pub
We just sat right down and relished our grub
We’d all pile in to a big bowl of dips
And a wandering hand might steal your chips
We loved the Friday night, after-work crowd
Where the bevvies were cold and the banter was loud
A queue at the loo, and a scrum at the bar
We were all packed in at The Crown or The Star
Oh halcyon days, where are you now?
For we can’t go to The Lion, The Plough
All we can get is a sanitised box
With a take-away in, to avoid the pox
We’re told: ‘Thirty quid please including tax
But before you pay, here’s our antibax’
So I long for the moment I’m back in the pub
I’m no big drinker, but I love my grub
When it’s served with finesse, appetizing and hot
Not tepid and sweaty in a plasticky pot
Oh bring me the lamb shanks, the jus-covered duck
Into sizzling fajitas I’ll readily tuck
As for home cooking, I’ve now had my fill
And for crispy pork belly I’M READY TO KILL!
Time for Tea (22nd May)
I thought: ‘The world’s gone helter-skelter
Stopping in an old bus shelter
For a safely distanced meeting.’
We couldn’t hug, so waved in greeting
It smelt of wee, I didn’t care
Because my lovely friend was there,
And we’d been waiting for the day
When seeing a pal is deemed ok
This spot would do, though dark and sleazy
It sheltered us, as it was breezy
What a treat to see a mate
I’d even dressed up for the date
Short sleeved dress, a touch of lippy
Regretted it, as then was nippy
So quickly broke out flask of tea
And balanced biccies on me knee
Glad the weather didn’t scupper
Plans to meet and have a cuppa
And with pubs closed, this had to do
Couldn’t stop long, there was no loo!
As venues go, it may sound bleak
Yet was my highlight of the week
Indeed the world IS helter-skelter
But life’s OK when we find shelter
Then and Now (8th May – VE day)
After many lives dashed, and so much true sorrow
Young soldiers who’d lost their dreams of tomorrow.
Fighting in trenches in some awful place
Lucky to make it alive back to base.
In such dark days, parents dreamed of times better,
But thousands received that condolence letter.
Yet many won medals and proved they were brave In time,
with their courage, our lives they would save.
Hidden heroes emerged: The Bletchley code breakers
Others kept us all fed, be it butchers or bakers;
While housewives donned wellies and made a firm pledge
To do their bit too, and dig up our veg.
After years of real hardship and fighting the hun,
The moment at last when we did it, we won!
As news spread like wildfire they danced in the street,
And people were hugging whoever they’d meet.
They drank and they cheered with exuberant passion,
The only big drawback – twas all still on ration.
So how did they feast, did they borrow and beg
For a bit of home brew or some cake with dried egg?
We’re more blessed today for we’ve warm scones and beer,
Plus loo rolls and pasta to bring us some cheer.
So let’s thank our luck, those guys had it so bleak –
They did six years of shutdown, we’ve just done six weeks!
Single Mum (1st May)
She really needs three pairs of hands
As on the keyboard porridge lands.
She tells herself ‘keep calm, come on, you’ve got this’
For wriggling, fractious on her lap
Sits her cheeky little chap,
Spilling breakfast all over her office
Did they take her for a fool
When they said ‘Now please home school
Your toddler and your four year old, it’s easy.
Even though they’re little yobs,
You can also do your job
From home’ … No wonder she felt queasy
She had no choice, as we can see,
But Jessica now needs a wee,
While Arthur’s nappy whiffs and feels quite dirty
Yet does he care? No he sits there
And jams his porridge right into her QWERTY
Her nerves are frayed, she battles on,
A work persona she must don
So clicks on Zoom and starts her morning meeting,
But Arthur’s having none of it,
He’s got more food, the little git
And flings a fistful at the screen in greeting
So when they said ‘It can be done,
To work from home is so much fun’
They maybe didn’t think of kids like Arthur,
Whose mum must juggle many plates,
She has no time for fancy dates
And wonders: ‘Where the hell’s his absent father?!’
The short walk home (24th April)
'Right, I'm off to the Crown then'
Said hubby, all full of cheer
I know it's the second time this week
But I'm desperate for a beer.
Peeved that he was leaving
But not one to cause a rift
I slapped on a smile and sweetly asked
If he'd be needing a lift
But he shrugged 'no' politely
And sauntered off with a swagger
He was only going to the study
So not far back to stagger
Firing up the laptop
He relaxed in his cosy room
Clicked to join the virtual pub
And chat to his mates on Zoom
It's not too bad as a night out
You can chat, do a quiz, play bridge
OK, there's no pint from the landlord
But you only need pop to the fridge
Thus another good night of male bonding
Was had as they chatted and laughed
But he still missed the taste of cold lager
Poured fresh from a pump on draft
He soon asked me 'Fancy a cellar?
I'll dig one for you as a gift'
The look on my face gave the answer
Now there WILL be a marital rift!
Drastic Measures (17th April)
My fringe was down to my armpits,
my roots were silvery grey,
when my daughter turned to me innocently
and said, with a smile, one day
'Mum – I’ve cut hair at uni,
us students have so little cash.
Why don’t you find me the scissors,
sit down and I’ll give it a bash’.
With hairdressers closed in the crisis,
I thought 'well I’ve got little choice’,
so I found myself saying ‘go on then’,
in a wary and trembling voice.
‘I might as well touch up your colour’
she added, producing a box,
as I acquiesced, I then did my best
not to fear for my poor little locks.
It started out well with the hair dye,
as she painted each strand, every follicle.
My hair appeared fine, a deep shade of wine,
but the bathroom looked quite diabolical.
Her efforts at splashing on colour,
had sent streaks of red up the wall,
Attempting to wipe, she’d left a great stripe,
and I wasn’t too happy at all.
But what harm could she do with the trimming?
There was simply a fringe to get straight.
Yet when I was cooked, I finally looked
and realised I’d left it too late.
In lining it up to my eyebrows,
she’d left me no more than an inch;
I’d hoped for a ‘Sassoon’ make-over,
but ended up more like the Grinch.
Zoom is Furloughed (6th April)
Well, it looks like Nanda has competition! Here is an offering from Carol Raithatha…
Home is work and work is home
The essential shop is how we roam
We try so hard but lose the plot
Our hands are scrubbed, our bodies are not
Each day more dosh we sadly owe
Even zoom may start to furlough.
Hope (3rd April)
What does nature know of our plight?
The bees still buzz and the doves take flight
Daffodils grow and the clouds float by
The moon still rises in the sky
Crops push through and tilt in the breeze
Squirrels continue to peek from trees
Early blossoms share their scent
Sparrows chirp until they're spent
Though I may think my world has stopped
With all my privileges dropped
I'm starting to learn of life's true worth
And enjoy the beauty of mother earth
I see with fresh eyes this stunning place:
For free I can feel the sun on my face
Can listen to cows low in fields nearby
Take strength from the sight of a bright blue sky
Savour the smell of the rain and grass
And trust that this difficult time will pass
Fast forward to June (20th March)
We are down at the pub in a wild celebration
Freedom at last after self-isolation
Enjoying a laugh with our dearest of friends
Time for cold lager* and summer weekends
[*A sensible move has been made by the owner
Who’s taken off tap his usual Corona]
Though April and May were lonesome and bleak
We’re now at a time when the bug’s passed its peak
So tonight here we are, breathing sighs of relief
With a few tears of joy after moments of grief
For we’ve lost ones we loved, and some jobs are in tatters
But also we’ve learned what in life really matters
We stopped being selfish and thought about others
Held tight** to our children, our parents and brothers
[**Metaphorically speaking – we did keep our distance
And kept washing hands, sanitised with persistence]
We offered up loo roll that once we’d have stashed
Held onto our nerve when pension funds crashed
Helped little old ladies who needed some shopping
Even when illness showed no signs of stopping
As the virus took hold and quickened its pace
Those struck down stayed home and ate pancakes and plaice
A strange combination, not eaten before
But twas all that our folks could slide under the door
We stifled the boredom with jigsaws and books
Stopped haircuts and waxing, gave up on our looks
For banned were the hairdresser, spa, gym and nails
So we slouched and got lazy, avoiding the scales
But tonight we don’t care, and we’ve no need to hide
For we’ve learnt that what matters is not our outside
We may look like yetis, our pensions have dived
But break out the champers, at least we survived!
Life Hacks (27th March)
As all our supplies get increasingly low,
Here’s handy home tips to put you in the know
When shelves in your Asda are starting to lack
Do try improvising with one of my hacks:
I’m fresh out of loo roll, have used a dock leaf
It’s ok I s’pose – rather rough underneath
My razor got blunt so sandpaper was used
It’s left my poor legs feeling bloody and bruised
I’ve got low on dairy, am milking the cat
The scratches I’ve got show her views about that
I ran out of hand cream so tried mayonnaise
That tip worked a treat, mitts stay silky for days
And hubby had hair straggling over his ears
But topiary worked, with the gardening shears
Another thing missing because of this bug
Is a worldwide mass shortage of comforting hugs
But I’ve solved that one too, hope you’ll think, on the whole
That we might somehow manage with gloves on a pole
It’s not all depressing, some things don’t run out
Community spirit – there’s plenty about
There’s love, song and dancing, and dry British wit
Dark humour or daftness to make your sides split
There’s plenty of tech to keep people in touch
And listening ears if you’re needing a crutch
If your stash of good books is starting to dwindle
There’s always the infinite joy from a Kindle
And if you’ve a bath, to put some fruit in
Happy days boys and girls, you can make your own gin
So take heart dear friends, we’ll see this thing through
I’ve thought of some options, now over to you
If no inspiration, don’t end up in tears
Just Google ‘survival’, ‘Bear Grylls’ or ‘Ray Mears!’