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Another poem based on an earlier one, and as with that, nothing much has changed. (Image courtesy of Wikimedia commons)

Too many cooks get under each others’ feet …

This is the third of my seasonal stories for 2024. The other two are Christmas Pan-to and And what did the robin do then...? . This one is a bit different from my usual fare, for which I apologise, but I felt compelled to write it. Hope you enjoy it!

Image from Dreamstime - Royalty free - AI generated

Tuesday is the 31 st of December, in the year of our Lord, 2024. On it, we contemplate the beginnings of the coming New Year. I wonder sometimes at...

All I Can Eat Moderation in all things Surely not? Once the feast begins I’ll gorge the bloody lot From raging famine to sumptuous feast With eyes...

[Continuing the hymn-for-Sundays series] When welcoming guests, don’t fuss and stress they’d rather less poshness than tense distress … Words spoken with haste… Lying with skill …

Oh dear, I'm full of snot. I've even got it up me bot. Helpless as a baby, in year dot. I should do something, but I know not wot. The yanks may say...

December 28th Glazed on a northern wintered beach. The shoelace kelp tethering her boots. Where are the tide times for setting sons? A childhood once...