Strange things were happening In a globi klunky way Yada Yada Yada Was the best thing to say There were smoky chumbles rising with figures in between An enchanted blokle grambog With stangles in a dream But all was in a toggle wok No need to despair The steam was dissolving Somewhere in the air
The fire was glowing, the cinders were grey fuzzy and smokey in the b-b-que way The ladies were waiting for their annual feast With various cuts from various beast One had some pork the other had beef all soaked in mustard to be sure it was not mief And then Maggie coughed which was really not her goal Instead of chewing meat, she was choking on charcoal
It might rain, it might storm There is always a blue streak somewhere It’s fantabulous, mega great So let me get my share Forget the gloom, shambobulous A plunket full of flau Where there’s a sun is brilliantiplup So let us bathe in crau You may not understand this ditty The words are made by me So galumpul plonky glumdrum And let us climb a tree
There were many people swaying in our village today under the heavy load of unwanted objects. Someone once said that we should live as if we would be moving every week. It is times like today when you realise that is a good idea.
Tomorrow is the day when our local authorities collect unwanted bulky goods. Your must assemble them on specified places on the pavement and the truck arrives during the day and removes it all to the place where they never return. As most male members of the family are at work I saw many ladies organising the goods to be removed, swaying under heavy loads. I had some wooden supports I used for plants in the garden, that I no longer needed and there was also a chair that had seen better days and I was not so sure how to carry it through the garage to the pick up place. However, when you have a No. 1 son that is strong, and tall and has muscles, there is no problem. In a few minutes the chair was gone, removed to the outside and ready to be picked up tomorrow. My son is an expert swayer.
This removal of bulky goods from the local authorities happens twice a year, the last week of March and the last week of August. It costs nothing, but you must have no metal amongst the objects to be removed. The metal collection is a day later. I have a few old pots and pans that I put outside to be removed.
And so this evening our village streets will be full of unwanted objects, although some of them might be useful for others. Before the truck arrives to remove the goods tomorrow, there will be many smaller vans, even cars, circulating slowly along our streets. They are the people that are on the search for something that might be useful, that no-one else needs. Before the official trucks arrive a third of the unwanted objects will already be in the living room of another house somewhere.
I decided to go for a wheelie around my part of the village this afternoon. It is not a large village, population 923 at the last count, not including the cows. Cows come and go, but not to your dinner plate, we have milk cows.
And then I noticed this building enclosed in scaffolding, the windows void of curtains and where there were once families, there is now just an empty shell. I have lived in this village for a little more than 20 years and this building is just across the path. One lady moved out some years ago and bought an apartment on our estate. I met another lady that is new to our estate. She told me she has only taken the apartment for maximum two years as her old apartment is now being renovated. I now realise that she is also a vanquished refugee from this building.
It seems nothing lives forever today and probably in the name of higher rents the building is being gutted and will arise again like a phoenix from the rubble, or something like that. The cows are looking on in sympathy. Their barns and fields still exist.
Today was August market day
On my scooter I had to wobble
And now there is the question
Can you find the bobble
Look closely at the hats
In the middle at the top
You find the bobbles everywhere
So now the search can stop
There used to be a bear pit in Bern
They found it rather cruel
And so they built a new place
by the river which was quite cool
Bern kept its bears, it was tradition
The bears were part of their sign
but what to do with the old bear pit
to keep it on cloud nine
If you go down to the pit today
There are no bears to fear
They have been replaced by machinery
For making stout and beer
We do like something sweet in the afternoon. Mr. Swiss was saying how much he misses the lemon cakes that I used to get in the large supermarket when I still had a car. Our local store does not have them usually, but I saw in my online information that there is a special offer this week for lemon cakes, a bit different to the ones I used to buy, but even better: layers of cake with cream in between and all topped up with a yellow lemon syrup and even a little piece of chocolate on the top.
So I went on my quest this afternoon and yes, they were there. Unfortunately I had other samples of food to buy. Being in a wheelchair it can get a bit complicated so I load one bag and deposit it near the cash desk and then I begin to fill the second bag. It is all a matter of logistics eventually. When I get to the cash till I have to move two bags onto the desk. Generally no problem, but in the effort of lifting and organisation the box containing the two cakes tipped over and the photo is the product. My lemon cakes became two cake dollops.
I managed to reconstruct one of them for Mr. Swiss and I have eaten mine in the meanwhile. I do not think Mr. Swiss minds so much, he was sitting in the dentists chair for more than an hour this afternoon having a tooth reconstructed. He said he will eat it later. Perhaps I should liquify it for him, although dollops are quite soft to bite.
A strange object to be seen on a resting place at our local castle. A trombone and no-one to play it.
I was taking a walk up to the castle and in the grounds there was a concert from a local brass band. Unfortunately I was too late for the performance and the musicians were already packing away their instruments. I hope that the trombone player did not forget his.
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