Ah!..’tis a tragedy bereft, 

With no obvious solution, 

Save the usual long, drawn-out absolution, 

Of a lingering death . . .  

To be now an old man… 

To now be a grubby old man with nothing left, 

But a head full of corrupted memories, 

Of moments of delightful company, 

And a vastly inadequate philosophy. 

For it is ever known the most intense thrill, 

Is harboured for those loves unfulfilled.  

Oh,  but the loves of my life are growing older,  

 Moods and temper shift as weather gets colder, 

Where once a slip of chiffon over bare shoulder,  

Was accompanied by soft, simpering gaze, 

Inviting me to join her in felicitous summer days. 

Now, that same shoulder is shiveringly covered,  

With thick, wooly, wind-cheater tightly coveted,  

Accompanied in person by a dour, pouting sook,  

Would match the freeze of the wind on site,  

No longer bothered to fulfill a lover’s tilt.  

The loves of my life are getting older, 

Revealing more to doctor than to lover, 

A retinue of ills and complaints to cover, 

Prescriptions of pills to keep us in clover, 

No more to tease with vampish gaze, 

No more the promise of halcyon Summer days, 

Instead wincing eyes struggle to read the exercise plan, 

Delivered in situ, 

By a ridiculously cheerful, young and fit gymnasium man. 

Six of the best.
My own limited experience, Gerard, in the world of “raunchy women” is no less fraught with doubt and wonder…For instance..years back when I was so much less “sophisticated”, courting a voluptuous English lady whilst “resting” between spouses, she sprung a similar surprise upon myself that left me puzzled and searching for answers…
You see..I have this very good leather belt that was given to me as a gift from my first wife..it is of light-tan, soft-buff leather..very malleable and flexible..it also has a twin strap at the insertion end where one strap goes under the buckle and the other through with the holes for the pin..with the buckle a not too big but a robust, brass affair that is quite ornate in it’s simple design..a good, solid belt that suited the denim jeans that I casually wore..and the lady had at odd times remarked upon admiringly.
One day the lady in Q’ grabbed the belt in her fist just as I fastened it on and dragged me to herself in a commanding way and whispered vampishly in my ear..: “You could give me six of the best anytime..”….I looked at her with a mind clouded for the moment in doubt and confusion…just as you must have felt, Gerard, when you got that “Come and Roger me ” offer from your first lady-friend…and your name not being anything like; “Roger”. But all of a sudden my mind flashed to that dried fruit and nut stand at the Central Market..Of course : “Charlesworth Nuts” where I recalled they sold warm dry-roasted various numbered mixes of nuts…cashews, pecan, macadamias etc… and I said “Of course..you know..that’s a great idea and I’ll get some next time I pass the market on the way to work”…
Well a week or so later I DID buy that “six of the best mix” and I went around to see the lady with my little bag of nuts…but when I arrived, she was just about to depart in a car with another man..she looked to me and said..”Sorry, luv..but you’re just a bit too slow..so now you miss out.”..and she threw me a kiss and departed….but hey…I got the better of her there and then, because I got stuck into that delicious, warm bag of “six of the best” and I didn’t leave any for her!…Ha!..She’s the one who missed out..

Frans Hals..”Young Man and Woman in an Inn.”

My answer to a lady on a social media blog on the virtue of sobriety in life.

Miriam…I could, I suppose send you a flippant reply replete with obtuse witticism and exchange banter on the subject for a period of posts and time..But perhaps this is the time we..and others here give some thought to the subject of what constitutes a well-lived life.
Your attitude promoting a higher level of sobriety in life can be seen as noble..perhaps even inspirational…but speaking personally..having “sailed thru’ the storms of vicissitude” on life’s seas, and now reaching 74yrs. in a reasonable state of body health and sanity (touch wood!)…I have held most dear to myself those youthful memories of many “wasted nights” of boozy behaviour shared with those many, and some who have, unfortunately, fallen by the wayside, and it could have been me, some through alcohol abuse that led to motor accidents and other disasters…some through failed health through the over use of the drug..but still, of all the times I have regret from my own inebriated state and my actions within that state…I could fairly say that the path trod was a worthy one with little remorse…NOT necessarily with saintly virtue..as I have demonstrated enough times..and let us reflect on the sober truth that if Mother Theresa had a couple of dirty little secrets hidden away from her image of saintly virtue (as we now know she had!), then there is little hope for the rest of us!…and I reflect that along the way I have gathered from the verge of that most perilous road, a veritable armful bouquet of the most beautiful wild flowers of observed experiences..many of which I share with strangers on here as elsewhere…and as for the lessons of sober experience over drunken foolishness…I lean toward the latter…because a fool at least has a chance to redeem themselves by the gaining of wisdom, and folk will praise him for his endeavour, similarly as a drunk has of getting sober…yet the wise person, having fallen into foolishness (a state easily gained and sometimes readily accepted ) will forever be tainted by the memory and the reminders of those around him, of the height from which he may have fallen…of “the person they used to be”…
There are many parables and examples of the pitfalls that lead any one of us into the dreaded perdition of scandal and abuse…off the top of my head as universal example we have that movie : “The Blue Angel” with Marlene Dietrich …and of course there is the always handy the biblical “Parable of The Pounds”…

Of course, exemplar society and graceful manners will back your position everyday to the hilt..I..have NO social claim to state my case upon…for “success in life’s pursuit” is STILL measured in the cut of one’s cloth and the fatness of one’s material portfolio…even clever Oscar Wilde, I believe died in a gutter..but then I never was one to bow my scruffy neck to the rule of social order and good manners..Besides..I would never have gained this repertoire of yarns without some sort of skewed outlook on life, and as a by-word, I might offer a warning to any who wish to hear, of the perils of entering the grinding maw of old age stone-cold sober.
Bon Appétit !

Gustave Courbet..”The Desperate Man”.

A Note from Hadda Guttfull.

As someone who grew up with the likes of,

Screaming Lord Such or Bananrama…

Who matured under the sopranic idyls of Pavarotti and Kiri Te Kanawa,

I can claim to have a fair degree of tolerance,

To a variation extreme of human oral physical utterance!

But for the love of God Almighty and any other merciful deity in all of eternity,

May I be spared the torture forever more of the goosey-gander-like,

Honkings of the American accents of more Yankee experts on “our ABC”.

And for the sake of sanity and preservation from such gross inanity,

Let us also do away with the throaty “yo-bro” gassing of exaggerated afros,

Or the teetering on the edge of squealing profanity of the high-camp anything-osexuals!

With their mouthfuls of shining teeth and Phyllis Diller-like BUT coloured hair!

All a pitter-patter of schlapping und tikkling, und joking und chiffling!

If these pompous programmed performers insist AND persist,

On both radio and free to air television as “entitled” conversational grist,

So-so-so- much in our faces like ugly gorillas coming out of the mist,

I will be forced by final intolerance of such pretentious personificrunts,

To reach for the remote and with forceful index finger, smote,

Those irritating annoyances..the whole lot of the whole bloody all…

to the depths of evening’s entertainment sheol!

Once and for bloody all!