Category Archives: Prose

Battered

There’s a chap I know who works down the chipshop He often writes a rhyme When I asked for battered haddock He said he didn’t have the time. Driving in DP, it’s nautical but not as we know it!

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Windy farms, windy botties.

We’re on cable burying duties on a windfarm. Foundation A08, our target, is a tantalising 120 metres away. Up until a few minutes ago we were making good progress towards it, then there was a bit of an event that … Continue reading

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I sat down and ritt

Update: Blimey, not much blogging of late, there’re good reasons though. Aged mum still in hospital, been there since November 29th, requiring much support in many ways. This has been a large absorber of what would otherwise have been free/blogging … Continue reading

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The Seaman

SEAMAN Between the innocence of infancy and the recklessness of adultery comes that unique specimen of humanity known as a seaman. Seamen can be found in bars, in arguments, in bed, intoxicated. They are tall, short, Fat, thin, dark, fair … Continue reading

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Erith, when it was in Kent

The following poem, ‘an Ode to Old Erith’, Robert the Devil’s stomping ground, written by Pat Watson in 1982, mentions ‘Bob the Devil’. ODE TO OLD ERITH It was always a shabby, funny town, when I was small: It’s only … Continue reading

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Sea sung ditty

Eeeh you can say what you like about the arts but a good old sing your heart out verse of song can work wonders. They say. How’s this then? Filched from ‘The Campfire Songbook’ by the plagiarisors  at the towers without … Continue reading

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Culzean update

The weather God has been playing havoc with the schedule these past two weeks. The whole caboodle was expected to take nine days from start to finish with everyone home for tea and self-congratulatory backslaps by last Friday. But, northerly … Continue reading

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