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        Does anyone have, or know someone who has, a cat with macular degeneration?

The "Everyday Knights" Series

"Typos" series

Another Rhyme

An        An Absent-Minded Professor Gets a New Job

(in which         (In which the apocryphal story about Norbert Wiener becomes even more apocryphal)

There was a prof. whose name was Wiener;

No professor could be finer.

Maths and Logic were his game

And Cybernetics made his fame.

Ones and noughts and bits and bytes,

He could take them to the heights;

Into the mental stratosphere,

Which was the world that he held dear.

This mundane place beneath his feet,

Was not a meaningful retreat.

He never gave a single thought

To seeking things that others sought.

Wealth and fame were not his gods,

But, rather, calculating odds

And, mentally, his massive brain

Was calculating on the train.

But when he got off at his stop,

The station caught him on the hop.

It wasn’t like the one before -

A different pattern on the floor.

He then remembered, just in time,

To get the right bus in the line.

He made his way to his new job,

A different Chair, a different mob.

He sorted papers through the day

And made new friends along the way.

However, when he came to go,

He found the bus was much too slow.

It missed his train; he had to catch

A diff’rent bus to Grandby Hatch.

And just when he got up to leave,

The driver grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Now don’t forget to go down there.

It gets you to Museum Square.

The number seven’s what you want.

It drops you off at Yarby Front.”

At Yarby Front he had to roam,

To find the house that now was home.

Sadly for him, they’d all been made

In sim’lar style.  He was dismayed

To find he had no memory. 

“Which one of these belongs to me?”

A child was playing in the street.

He hastened on, the child to greet.

“Please tell me, kiddy, if you know,

Where does Professor Wiener go

When he comes home at night from college.

Which house is his? D’you have that knowledge?”

The little child, without a doubt,

Raised his right arm to point it out.

“Are you quite certain, little laddie?”

“Course, I’m certain. You’re my Daddy.”

(Sadly, for the ‘poet’, the real Professor Wiener only had daughters!)

Since the fox-hunting ban the upper-class have a new target

The "Everyday Knights" Series.

The "Typos" Series

The "Poetry" Series

           Mail Box

My wife had had a life-long goal

To have a mailbox on a pole.

Just like they have in t’ USA

Where ’ruddy door is miles away.

“I think it’s daft,” says I to her,

“When our front door is only there,

The letters drop down on the mat.

I just can’t see what’s wrong wi’ that.”

“Well, folks can see them every day,

And ’specially if we’ve gone away.

I think a burglar with a torch

Would see the letters in the porch.”

“Well, I think it would be a sin,

To make a box to catch ’em in,

And if it’s out there on the wall,

We’ll get wet going for ’em all.”

“Well, I don’t care what you’ve to say,
I’m going to buy one now, today.

You can come with me, if you like,

Unless you’re going on your bike.”

“No. I’ll come with you on the bus,

I’m not a man to make a fuss,

I’ll help you choose the one you want,

We’ll get it now for on the front.”

I took her to the hardware shops,

And looked at every letter box.

She chose a black one, wide and tall,

And said we’d put by the wall.

We took it home. I got a pole

And then I made a two-foot hole.

And with my hammer bashed it in,

Preparing for the letter bin.

And after half a dozen knocks,

I went to get the letter box.

But when I read the label header,

T’ thing was just a paper-shredder!

She said, “I think it will be grand

To have a mail-box on a stand.”

And I agreed it couldn’t fail,

… unless you want to READ the mail.

I intend to make a regular Sunday Post.

This will include:

              an original poem.

              some original cartoons:

                                     a) from my "Typos" series

                                     b) from my "Everyday Knights" series.

Any other original cartoon, drawing or photograph that amuses me.