The Divine Right of Monarchs?

Just how long is a person expected to glue themselves to the box today?

And is it socially acceptable to shift oneself from the settee to tackle the overgrown lawn? Will my neighbours complain if I get happy with a strimmer? Do neighbours generally complain when a spot of gardening takes precedence over the funeral of someone´s much-loved Great Granny, Granny and Mother? Probably not. So why today, does Hubby frown at me when he spots me sneaking outside with an extension lead and attempting to marry up plug and socket?

“Wait until 5 o´clock!” he says.

Fearing God´s wrath, on the off chance that King James I had been right all along to insist upon the divine right of monarchs, I retreat.

Back to the settee. Back to the box. Best make the most of it before this Winter´s fuel-bill hike!

Best not think about how many penny boxes remained empty today. Best focus on …

The box within the box. The Great Granny, Granny and Mother within the box within.

And just how many zero-hour contract workers … ?

Best not, not on this occasion, best not to think about it.

Think not outside the box. Focus.

Is it 5pm yet? Strimmer? Electrical strimmer? Fuel bills?

“Hubby, do we have any garden shears?”

By Jay Cool, 19th September, 2022

P.S. Not totally against the monarchy, but not totally for it either. Cannot help but see the irony in it all. But, at the same time, I suspect the Queen, given back the status of ruler, might have done a better job of running the country than our current Parliamentary elect!

Image by Brad Volpe from Pixabay

Some Old Man’s Bunion

I knew an old man with a bunion –

it was true, it resembled an onion!

Such long hairs did it sprout, that although it did pout,

it wore plaits and became a Saint Trinian.

By Jay Cool, August 2022

Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay

Revealing Mr Larkin

Shadows of middle-age larking around within the mind of

Philip, as he sees the elderly, mouths drooling, and

is fearful of this watery reflection of

skewed ripples, of the spades digging into his own

disintegration.

By Jay Cool, 18th August 2022

Inspired by snippets of Philip Larkin´s poetry, as featured on BBC Four´s Return to Larkinland.

Image by Olle August from Pixabay

‘Approach to Ipswich’

Dazzled by a sunset of headlights, but unable to stop and take a photo, I took a mental snap and here is the result:

‘Approach to Ipswich’ by Jay Cool

Credits: With thanks to my mum for her crossword input.

Doddering

from Pixabay.com

My garden fences being toppled by the high winds of Storm Dudley was only the start of it. A warning of the ferociousness of the storm to come.

Today …

the machine of destruction rolls in and over the right to be free from coercive

dictators.

Dragon fire. Death. Disaster.

The price of fuel, a triviality, considering …

steps taken –

strides needed.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, Thursday 24th February 2022

Conquistadored

from Pixabay.com

Days fast-forward into cloudy confusion, like conquistadors;

each one squeezing its time in so close

to my core that

to count backwards is futile.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, February 2022

Time Well-Spent

Days tumbling in on me,

knocking me flat,

and burying me

in spent

time.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January, 2022

Header image from pixabay.com

Obligatory – New Year

Is it new, to celebrate the start of a year in which one becomes older?

Does the angst of youth miraculously dissipate, or does it accelerate until it can no longer be retained by the brittle shell of depletion?

Copyright of Jay Cool´s thoughts owned by Jay Cool, Saturday 1st January, 2022.

Joined-up thinking?

According to The Sun, the coronavirus infection rate is slowing.

According to The Express, today’s coronavirus data is delayed.

According to the The Independent, the latest daily infection rate was 24 hours ago, at 183, 027.

No new updates are due until 7.30 pm today.

And yet.

According to a Bing search, as of 15.43 today, the 30th December, 2021, the daily rate of infections in the UK was 221, 250!

Joined-up thinking?

Confused?

Be confused no more. As of 20.58 today, The Daily Mail, put the record straight, knocking to total infection rate down to 189,213!

Sorted.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, 30th December, 2021

Image courtesy of pixabay.com

Rebuff

They had nothing to do with each other. Not really.

Nothing in the way of communication passed between them, although one, it could be argued, was a regular guest of the other. Not by way of invitation; but more in the way of a gatecrasher. Although to use the word gatecrasher might seem to imply intent on the part of the visitor and, in this situation, with this visitor, there was no intent whatsoever.

The involuntary-gatecrasher certainly possessed a multitude of positive attributes; attributes which might, to the uninformed observer, be cited as more than enough to impress the highest calibre of a host. And, yet, it was not, it seemed, enough to earn the guest, even the flicker of hostly acknowledgement. Not that the guest, by way of return, if a lack of acknowledgement can in any way be returned, suffered in any way by such a rebuff. Again, there are some who might point out that, without intent on either the part of the guest or the host, there cannot possibly be the conception of a rebuff.

And, as has already been put forward, they had nothing to do with each other.

Not really.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, Tuesday 28th December, 2021

Photograph by Jay Cool