The Doctor’s Surgery!

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I try to avoid the doctor’s surgery at all costs. Maybe when I’m retired it will become a part of my weekly routine. Until then I have to be either needing the medical version of Control-Alt-Delete or a blow-out with an ear-canal-pressure-washer before I’ll even consider phoning the appointments line. After having put up with ear-ache for more days than I care to admit, I braved the surgery…

I needed to see a doctor as I had ear-ache,
I rang the surgery at not long after eight!
“The surgery you see,
Is busy until three,
You may just have to sit and wait!”

I checked in on the touch screen (date of birth),
Twenty-sixth of October (for what it is worth),
Rasping coughs and sneezes,
Always spread diseases!
Went to the waiting room (lacking mirth).

If they installed a take-away coffee machine,
And made all the seats comfy and clean,
I was there till half past three,
Neither drink nor cup of tea,
Some wouldn’t ever leave – would they Kathleen?

I saw the doctor for four minutes, that was all,
She asked what was wrong to necessitate this call,
I said it was my ear,
What she said was still not clear,
I came away with a prescription in a doctor’s scrawl!

Mrs Bard is sick of me saying ‘never fear’
‘What?’ and ‘eh?’ are all she ever hear,
Driving in the car,
Annoys her most by far,
I blame the cotton wool that’s wedged inside my ear!

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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The New Year Trail!

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The day after New Years Day is traditionally a blue day. Festivities are over, decorations look sad and the turkey curry is finished! A friend, who was staying over at Bard Towers, admitted that despite being a card-carrying member of a well-known avian organisation, he’d never visited their headquarters or nature reserve. Desperate to ward off post-holiday blues we joined a gaggle of khaki-clad and binocular festooned Kevins on a mission…

On the Sandy Ridge close to Biggleswade
On the trail of the lonesome pine,
Tony’s twitching for birds that are fine,
Of which there is no sign!
No birds (only tits that are blue),
Like the pine, lonesome and few!
On the Sandy Ridge close to Biggleswade
On the trail of the lonesome pine,
With sincere apologies to lyricist Ballard Macdonald and comedian/singers Laurel and Hardy whose rendition of ‘On the Trail of the Lonesome Pine’ reached number two in the charts in the seventies only to be held off the top spot by Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.

May I someday be forgiven!

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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Magnetic Editorial Advice!

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Since the dawn of the digital age, shortcuts have been made in ‘proper English’. The rot (as some daily newspapers would report) started with text messaging and continued with E-mail and un-edited websites. Writers in this digital frontier town no longer have to jump through hoops to be published and self-editing has seen wide variances in the application of grammar and spelling. At times I have been guilty as charged and my unofficial editor has taken steps to combat the problem…

I have a friend who lives in Kent,
To me for Christmas he has sent,
Some fridge magnets to teach me grammar,
Which attacks his nerves like a sledge-hammer!
In my defence I have to say,
I try my best every day,
To make more sense than the day before,
But now I have magnets I’ll try some more!
Thank-you Blair for that reminder,
Some will say you’ve played a blinder!
So please forgive this chink in my armour,
After all I’m only a farmer!

© Baldock Bard 2013
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Happy 2013!

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What will 2013 bring to the table? Rather like a film sequel it has a hard act to follow. After a year of massive events the calendar looks a little bare. Like the morning after a party, perhaps this will be the year to take things a little easy and let the hangover and excess from 2012 subside…

New Year’s Day Morning,
Something’s awry,
The party is over,
I look to the sky!

Empty bottles abound,
Recycling box overflow,
Out to the bin,
With rubbish I go!

I make a hot coffee,
I’m now an old bloke,
I hardly take drink,
And I no longer smoke!

But something is wrong,
I don’t know why,
For the first time this year,
The path is all dry!

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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That Was The Year That Was!

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Recently a friend suggested that I ask my army of readers from around the world to vote for their favourite posting on this blog site. It suddenly struck me that since the end of February and over the last 293 postings you have already voted and those votes were available on the stats page! So as one year ends and another starts I present the Best of the Baldock Bard 2012. Firstly your most popular page and then two very different postings that seem to sum up my year…

Most Visited Baldock Bard Blog 2012
The Pendleton Post Box – 7th August
In a moment of genius the Post Office are gold-painting post boxes in the hometowns of Olympic Champions. The small town of Stotfold, near Baldock, has a new tourist attraction thanks to track cyclist Victoria Pendleton…

They’re over by the postbox
With camera and mobile phone
A famous cyclist comes from here
It’s Victoria Pendleton’s home!

It’s become a tourist attraction
Stotfold’s not had a rush before
It’s got a pleasant water mill
Traction Engines by the score!

If she wins the cycling sprint
There’s bound to be euphoria
Lets hope the gold doesn’t ever fade
For Stotfold’s ‘Queen Victoria’!

Baldock is quite jealous
There’s no-one there to win
The only thing that’s golden
Is a dirty road-salt bin!
My Year
Having trawled through all the 293 postings there are two that sum up my year, I present one of loss and one of gain. Both were written when I was emotionally charged, but on the very opposite ends of the spectrum.
Both were about much-loved influences named Marsya.

Gathering Pollen 8th August

Yesterday I attended an interment in a pretty little Staffordshire churchyard. It seemed strange that everyday life hadn’t stopped for those around us…

The vicar intoned some solemn words as we stood around the grave.
Heads bowed, umbrella handles firmly gripped, a rag-tag honour-guard for a much-loved wife, mother and friend.
Thoughts and memories skipped noisily between headstones like naughty children obliterating those final words of dust and ashes.
A quick glance at the surrounding countryside revealed a patchwork bedspread of distant crops awaiting harvest.
While here harvest is done.
All the while bumblebees enjoy the flowers of the Buddleia and life continues…

Grandfather Bard October 4th
There are many rites of passage in life. Some are un-nerving, some are frightening and some are absolutely fantastic! Having been in at the birth of two children, I thought nothing could ever come close to that emotional roller-coaster ride. Well I was wrong!

This morning I became Grandfather Bard.

Our daughter gave birth to a baby girl by text!
Receiving messages at infrequent intervals had me wondering if I should reach for the self-administering tranquilizer gun.
I paced the house, drank far too much coffee (with it allied trips for relief) and even trawled the Internet aimlessly (randomly ending up at Pitcairn Island!).

It took a further two hours to learn the weight (7lbs 11oz) and come to terms with this life-changing event. Now it’s off to view for the first time and I can’t wait.

Thank heavens for a little girl called Marsya…

A very proud
Grandfather Bard

Happy New Year to you all and a million thanks for sitting next to me on the journey…

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Ode to a Puddle!

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According to the Met Office it’s been the wettest year on record. Climate change enthusiasts are celebrating this latest scientific breakthrough. Meanwhile everyone else is just looking forward to a hot dry summer (apart from the water companies who say it’s been the wrong kind of water and are preparing for an inevitable hosepipe ban)…

Water, water, everywhere,
And not just in the sink!
Fields are underwater,
Should plant rice I think!
The children are in Wellies,
Their trousers are all wet,
That we were ever young ourselves,
Is easy to forget!

© Baldock Bard 2012
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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The Christmas Carcass!

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According to the media, yesterday was ‘Frazzled Friday’. This was the day when holiday excess finally took its toll and reality dawned! Apparently too much rich food and the realization that there is little left in the bank led not only to Presidents cutting short their vacations but also had us mere mortals heading for the sofa and an ‘another chance to see’ programme on the box. Be a dear and pass the Rennies…

One in two Britons spent the day on the sofa,
Holding their stomachs and feeling hung-over!
More than 70 percent have had rellies to stay,
One day too long most of them say!
Grandma and the kids are the least favoured guest
While Grandad’s have been voted by all as the best!
64 percent of households will have seen lots of tears
Stoked by 65 units of alcohol or so it appears!
The average adult will have piled on 4 pounds,
And a third will have an overdraft worse than it sounds!
The turkey (now curried) bringing flatulence I fear,
We’re just about ready to celebrate the New Year!

© Baldock Bard 2012
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The Christmas Tractor!

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Christmas is all about giving. This Christmas there has been another family member around the table. I make no apologies for spoiling my new granddaughter although the choice of gifts has caused a few raised eyebrows…

What’s been great about Christmas, let me just tell you,
Has been spoiling my new Granddaughter, yes, I know it’s true!
I may have gone somewhat overboard,
But as we shopped the present pile soared!
One great moment she gave me,
Was when she smiled at the toy JCB!

© Baldock Bard 2012
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Happy Christmas (War is Over!)

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Christmas is over and the last guests have left 36 Bard Road, Baldock. Like a faint ring around the bath, the remnants of the season’s festivities lay discarded behind the sofa; torn wrapping paper, a half-eaten mince pie, a crumbly dog turd and a meat-free turkey bone! Following the final departure the silence is deafening, as Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers should have sung: “Guests made this a Christmas to remember…”

The turkey carcass lies abandoned,
Grandad snoring mouth agape,
Men are smoking in the garden,
From the washing-up escape!

Extra chairs from absent neighbours,
Grandma ate upon her lap,
Check that Grandpa is still breathing,
Yes he is! Thank Heavens for that!

Darren’s sitting very carefully,
His face shows signs of fear,
Been to the toilet many times,
Scoffed those sweets from North Korea!

The kids are rioting in the bedroom,
They are leaping on the beds,
One is tied up to the headboard,
ADHD and cola without meds!

Someone’s shaver has gone missing,
The bathroom’s in thick fog,
Peters toothbrush has gone missing,
I saw it used upon a dog!

A ragtag army goes out walking,
Shouted at by farmer-with-sheep,
Returning back all cobwebs blown-out,
Find that Grandad’s still asleep!

Seven dogs have started fighting,
Aunty’s Peke is on the top,
All the kids have learnt new language,
As adults try to make them stop!

In the kitchen war is raging,
Turkey carcass on the floor,
The hostess shouting at her husband:
“Can’t stand your family any more!”

At that moment front door opens,
Uncle Bernard, parked nearby,
All the kids instantly scatter,
“Bad-breath-Bernard” they all cry!

Doreen has a screaming baby,
Her partner is ‘away’ this year,
She is soon going to visit,
He’s in Parkhurst for shifting ‘gear’!

Someone produces an obscure bottle,
Aunty Flo is filled with life,
Within the hour she’s drunkenly singing,
Uncle Bob ignores his wife!

Dan and Jane on blow-up-bed,
On the landing snore,
Everyone (on the way to bathroom),
Has kicked them hard and made them sore!

Pete is sleeping on the sofa,
Along with girlfriend Sam,
The resultant moanings are suggesting,
That they will, they do, they can!

Thursday comes the house is silent,
They’ve all gone and left today,
Every room is strangely silent
‘Come next year we’ll be away!’

FOR THE RECORD:
This verse and the people portrayed within are pure fiction and bear no relation whatsover to the wonderful guests we had to stay over the Christmas period. BB.

© Baldock Bard 2012

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The Lost Gift!

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Some years ago I entered an annual competition for writers run by the San Luis Obispo Times in California. The object was to write a complete story in less than 55 words. This was my winning entry that has lain in a file gathering dust ever since!
May you have a wonderful Christmas surrounded by those you love.
Baldock Bard

The Lost Gift
The Wise Men had followed the star for many days.
They were a congenial group who, apart from one, discussed many important topics as they traveled.
The Fourth Wise Man, being never wrong, turned left into the desert, and it was nearly two thousand years before the world rediscovered plastic.

© Baldock Bard 2012
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