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> Home Made Tales, The journey
peter.howden
post 10th Jan 2021, 12:32pm
Post #871

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Alternative farming;(2)

Due to the fact most of the land is under sea level, the Netherlands health and safety committee work tirelessly introducing more radical methods to protect wandering sheep, or lustful opportunist rams from drowning in canals, while leaping into neighbouring fields. On the wave of such success, they are able introduce rudimentary scuba diving training facility, varied for all animal’s needs, including the irksome rabbits. Holland can be a dangerous place for animals who are not aquatic. Rabbets dig holes…worms can’t swim. One said rabbit appear after making a wrong turn at Albuquerque…then disappeared down his own abyss?

Rabbits do look intimidating with rubber masks, suits, flippers, and all. It is extremely hard to working out what a rabbit is trying to tell the outside world, or what suggestions it’s making with such a screwed up contorted mouth struggling to avoid the snorkel. This action if repeated, often gives the bunny a hare lip.

Bunny sweat is by no means sweet, with it trickled up so much in rubber, making the buck’s intentions bounce all over the place giving out wrong signals, so steer clear when they do eventually undress. One good point though is there are no bugs on these rabbits, or indeed the need of a Doc (well maybe, a Shrink! for they are a bit loony if truth be known). There is always a silver lining for the children coming up for Easter, by gaining more chocolate on their bonbon rabbits.

Water skiing could be a plus for the deer population, wild and otherwise, an obvious choice for most have horns for protection along as warning to others. The major obstacle is the water highway code. Their reading skills are of a wanting… and the despicable goats keep eating the paper code. Because of their famed feistiness breed in the ‘Dear Green City’ of Scotland, four stout goats were introduced into the pastures of the Netherlands. Not a great success it must be said, because repeatedly they gave local goats headaches with their lightning notorious… ‘Glesga Kiss’. Pigs are at home anywhere and can be seen pig paddle across open water, apparently proving it’s a scientific fact how fat float. This also adds to super sizzling in the pan for Danish bacon.


The real problem is cows, for they are renowned of being with low intelligence, proving stupid cows do not achieve much, although the argument should be how humiliation causes this…and not their true ability. Animals from Amsterdam zoo have their own problems, though least of all the elephants who have always got their trunks ready yet unwilling to take stock of the situation. They might have great memories, however, don’t adapt to exams, or the need to be neat with test papers. They easily get the wind up them, and its essential giving tons of room to any elephant with reversed farting problems.

and the big brethren giraffes have a dilemma, not of drowning, but annoyance. Persons unknown keep tying boats and things to their necks sticking out from the water. Even a floating barber tried to use one as a sign for his trade. He must have been blind, as most barbers are, not to distinguish between stripes and patrons.
There are no zebra crossings on canals…neither sleeping policemen as they would simply drown, even if they could transfer their helmets into temporary diving bells?
-=-=-=
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peter.howden
post 10th Jan 2021, 08:25pm
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FRAUGHT

I’m not desperate… perhaps mixed up and pissed off , not knowing what to do, or where to turn. I’m a wee bit anxious about tomorrow… more so than the future, having just peeked in to see my wee darlings sleeping in the small room which is nothing else but a cupboard. They look so sweet and it is such a pity they will not stay that way but time marches on and won’t allow that. Once wanted a bigger house but this is just a dream, if not unreachable, unless I win the lottery and if it happened, then he would want his justified share. The truth is I’m now a single mum with two children who are my living heart, love them to bits, but time never visualized this is how it would turn out .

Marrying a childhood sweetheart who was everything a dream could wish for, however I didn’t hear the advice ‘be incredibly careful what you wish for, for it may come true’. I wanted to spend every minute of every day with my love, and for a short while it almost came true, though ignoring the ugly spaces, as it came obvious, he did not feel the same. His idea of family life did not marry mine, or most couples, as pretend happiness just drained away. I believe he wanted kids only so I would be tied to my apron and the kitchen sink.

Working for what you wanted, or needed, was always my way yet, my life’s partner did not really work, the lazy bastard; sorry I need to control myself, not for me but for my children. It is not fair on them. He floated from job to job, being idle most of the time. Lost jobs and blamed it on this or that, then lazed about smoking dope until I put my foot down. He still smoked the weed but not in the house. Bills started to mount up as he always was under the impression, I could sew up the gaps. That was my duty, that was my function, working at a good job as a seamstress for him, and his bloomin Irn-Bru fix. Do you know it became a bloody drug all of its own? Bottles and bottles of the blinking stuff till I hated the very whiff of it. .


My children’s father then found employment, that is a bloody sick joke in itself, collecting the empty glasses, putting them on the bar counter, in a busy pub. He handed in a few pounds and even bought the kids surprised presents, and this is when I had my surprise of a purse having been raided. The whore’s bitch… that is not right, for she was a gentle woman, even tried to warn me, but I just could not see, or be bothered to listen.

Things came to an unpleasant head once we owed thousands which we had no chance in hell paying back. His answer to this crisis, tap your dad. We argued with tempers blazing all that day and we finally agreed things had to adjust. My unforgivable regret was the children heard us, in fact the whole bloody street heard almost every single word . I believed him when he said he would work hard and change for the better…. so, what kind of bloody fool am I?

I had no clue, no clue art all, being distracted what was going on behind my back. He kept telling me he had paid this and that, there is this and that again, and all the time he was screwing up with that female who had four children to different fathers. The very f---in day I found out; the bastard buggered off, without a word, except to the kids telling them their mum had forced him out of the house. How could anybody with a conscious do that to hurt poor wee souls, but the worst of it was the children almost believed him and blamed me, I’m sure of it.

Do you know he even said I was having an affair, can you believe there could be such a lying toad, the miserable f---in bastard, oomph … sorry?

This was some horrible times ago where I went through twelve different moods in one day though when the children are about, I do my best not to ether put down their dad, for them to be normal, whatever the hell that is. He had a child with this woman, and it hurts me. The kids were thrilled to have a sister but that is the rub for me. Now that he is shacking up with her mother and she is on the social with five brats(sorry)and he works under the counter, he supposed to pay £5 a week for my children. Not each but for the two of them.

He has never given me or the children a brass farthing, has let the kids down time and time again and they have started to see how he cannot be depended on. He still has the f---in cheek to demand his rights. What can I do as my eldest does not want to see or be with him at all, and his son is wandering the same way……and this lousy bastard blames me?

Scrimped and saved and with the help of a few trusted friends, I’ve managed to keep our heads above water, but it is hard work denying myself… but not being able to have the kids keep up with their peers. It’s bloody difficult at times to keep my sanity. The sadness is…I want to have a baby; how ridiculous can one person be. Is it my hormones or something? Can I go through with it…and with whom. Am I being shallow?
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peter.howden
post 13th Jan 2021, 03:30pm
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OUR UNCLE DAVID(1/2)

This essential lockdown is moderately easy, mainly due to the close relationship with the wee delight, ‘She who must be obeyed’, and myself have mustered magic throughout the years, however, being collectively limited, unable to make physical contact, with family and close friends, or wag with a passerby… We are what we are…that is our prison. To elude creeping psyche tedium, we tend to induce the past, with throwaway hints from the radio playing a special record, or repetitive tv, asking who the artist is, what she, or he was in. Out of the blue often personal mixed emotion spotlight certain moments with special people we know or have known. No one is an island; however, one person frequently stands out…Uncle David,

Rebecca’s cherished Uncle was a plain straight man, with an uncomplicated theory of life, ‘to help someone when you can’, yet, who had a certain mischievous smile? He and Aunt Becky worked all their lives helping with time and money, everyone in their growing family of nieces and nephews and all their children. The real sadness, when they needed help, few came to call. Uncle David was a keen cyclist during weekends, heading for the hills at dawn, returning well after dark with 200 miles whisked past during that time. A quiet man who listened with a creative mind, wither a problem or a situation was to be solved. A biased gentleman though I would say who is not?

As a labourer for Glasgow District Council, gave him hands of magnificent strength because of long hard toil through all kinds of weather. Uncle David often decided to clean the windows, taking a chair around for the purpose to reach the top corners. This time he fell off, landing awkward on his knee, and after three operations later, forced to retire from work. Now like with all active men, this did not stop him for he found ways round what was to do and adapt. His previous cycling régime stood him in good stead, but the pain was so immense, he could not hide even with his inner strength. The last 15 months of his life he became housebound, and this was the time we became closer than before, where I learned so much from his early life and the army during the war. He never talked about the conflict before, even when indulging on a slight whisky refreshment.

Uncle David did volunteer the sheer instant terror of hand-to-hand combat, followed by ultimate boredom during long in-between. His friend was shot but unrecognizable to him in the aftermath. The bone coldness of digging in, the relief pleasure from a smile, grin or just a look from a fellow human being. He spoke of tragic incredible dreadful events, shamed to be there when deplorable treatment of Civilians who had nothing, took place, by both sides, sexual gratification, especially adolescent girls, and boys for a bar of chocolate. He tried to help prevent such loathsome conduct, not as a boast or even pride…He informed me so I would know.

I began to realize what a man he was as time, and small snippets of conversation began to show a map of him for anyone who wished to take the trouble and look. Uncle David never lost his sense of humour, He had a stutter that after a few drams magnified in a measurement of how tipsy he was, attempting to explain something. when Salty (David, brother-in-law) and I often stole time for a drink or two. We would ply questions to the main man so to gauging replying; ‘now, now…now, peter, now…now, honestly speaking, now honestly…peter…now…now honestly speaking! Once he finished the exploitation, there was a sly grin for producing a double resolve. Next…Uncle David’s revenge
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peter.howden
post 15th Jan 2021, 12:02pm
Post #874

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OUR UNCLE DAVID(2/2)
Uncle David’s revenge


Time passed so swiftly as my visits to his abode increased because he became totally confined to his chair, or bed. Uncle David had short comings like all people do, but none loud enough to drown out being ‘truer than a die’. A brave man each morning for he realized exactly what was in store for him, yet always held his head high. He had a laugh starting with a sly schoolboy chortle, followed by a compulsory giggle as he really enjoyed his own joke or comment. A doctor in Stobhill hospital asked for his medical history which we gathered the information by talking to Aunt Becky.

Fractured his arm jumping from a horse cart when 11 years of age. cracked his jaw at 13 crashing d into a wall. Suffered some unknown disease, which he had to be isolated for. While in the war, was blown clear out from a train in France, unconscious for a week. Lost his hearing for quite a time when a hand grenade, thrown by the Germans, blew his mate’s head clear off. Fell off moving transport and lay unnoticed for 16 hours then given a couple of aspirins. After the war, at home laid in bed with the dreaded whatever…for four or five weeks. But still, Becky would insist he had not had a day’s illness in his life apart from that. What can you say?

His great inner joy was when Rebecca and Becky went out together, while I remained to keep him company. Aunt Becky told him not to smoke, but when they left, the first thing he asked for was a ciggy. Uncle David would invite me to bring a whisky bottle from his bedroom wardrobe, on returning he claimed it was not the correct one, but anyway we should have a glass. In his cupboard was about ½ a dozen semi- full bottles of the golden water of life. The whole affair was repeated time and again until I was indeed tipsy…if not fu. When the girls came home to witness the result of our evening, ‘She who must be obeyed’ was obviously not pleased. Uncle David sat smoking a cigarette being held in lips which had a furtive grin of retribution. Hardly time had passed when David was taken to Marie Currie hospice, Stobhill, super care, died peacefully.’

Aunt Becky’s title for me was ‘nephew in law!’, and Uncle David had requested his ashes taken to a chosen spot… close to Craigrownie Castle, Loch Long, where he cycled so often throughout his life. It was a beautiful day as Rebecca, Aunt Becky, Agnes the lady upstairs from Becky’s house, set off for the final adventure. Driving past some grand scenery to reach the destination, we opted for a suitable spot to wade in. With a few personal words from my dry lips, I scattered the ash, as I thought, but the wind and tide felt different. The result was…Uncle David in powder form, swimming past me, though leaving some wrapped around my exposed legs. Aunt Becky shouting he doesn’t want to let go…. I’m thinking… it was his way of telling me; I made an arse of it.

Time and tide wait for no man… the ashes moved wind wise out to sea…. and that is where Uncle David is today…. As in life, in death, he is the man.
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peter.howden
post 18th Jan 2021, 09:19pm
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Imminent Confrontation

Due to near constant monotony plus possible need of requiring milk for the breakfast tomorrow , Herbert decided there and then to combine the two, taking a short cut to the store. Although it was a bleeding mirky afternoon, his head was in the clouds and as monotonous as the weather. Before he knew it, discovered himself ambling midway down a very narrow passage, leaving practically no room to maneuver whatsoever. Herbert has a ruling while out, to walk on the left side of the thoroughfare allowing any stranger, abiding by the rules, to pass by at the other side in safety…without contact.
.
When it happened, he can’t recall, however saw this older man heading towards his person, apparently unaware of Herbert’s presence. In a action of good manners, Herbert moved to the other side to prevent being too close, but to his amazement, this old reprobate ahead moved the same side, as if copying him…or just not caring. So promptly, Herbert returned to the left, but again this clown followed in a mimic gesture …worse still was now closer Right then, terror arose, as this bloody fool awkwardly trudged towards him…the blaggard was not wearing a bloody nose and mouth mask.

How could a member of this area community behave so utterly tranquil about the possible tragedy caused by either, a pratt with no consideration to others, or an idiotic moron dunderheed. Such people should be arrested by the police as a danger to humanity he silently thought. Furtively, Herbert held a sterner view… people who act defiantly by not obeying the government’s rules of lockdown, deserve to be horse whipped… or taste the good old-fashioned birch. There is no excuse, no excuse can there be… no compassionate get out of responsibility clause…a good official hiding would work blasted wonders.

There are too many soft in the heed soapy people, falling over themselves making pansy excuses for this inconsiderate, potential virus carrying bandits, such as unable to breathe properly…or Asthma…or a blocked up bloody nose, if only Herbert had his way! As the unwanted person moved even closer, taking a step forward, as if coming out of a dreaded dream. The very next moment, Herbert realized he was inside the small local supermarket and the offensive bloke causing all the stress, was in fact coming from a wall mirror at the corner of the shop’s counter….and the inconsiderate moron without a mask…was him!

Herbert had forgotten to put on his mask…well he said…no harm done?
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peter.howden
post 20th Jan 2021, 08:48pm
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Eye-catching

Joe believed beauty depended on in what way we define beauty for ourselves, rather than how we see it in others. He had met some lovely people, quite a few stunners as well, however, few stopped his breath, or rang soundless decibels through his mind. Entering a club full of enjoying vibrations, Joe spotted a jaw drooping sensation of feminine curves, though the florescent lighting of the time, may have had some small manner in the deception. This type of lighting was fashionable with clubs throughout the period, and popular with male members because the luminous light heightens the dresses, skirts blouses, as girls wearing white of any form.

On this occasion the dancing Madonna was wearing a tight white outfit, with an obvious living bra. In contrast, the almost jet-black rhythmic hair floated effortlessly…sporadically dropping to the full length of the back. The only weird thing about this incredible vision on high heels, not one soul was near. Joe tried to look cool, failing miserably by tripping over a hidden step, crashed onto the dance floor in an undignified manner. Meanwhile, the floating dream seemed to be concerned as Joe faked vainly the tumble was part of his dancing steps. The club’s ceiling was lower than normal, intensifying the fluorescent illuminations.

The unrehearsed jolt slightly dazed Joe’s eyesight still saw something out of place, for looking every inch feminine, but the movements were not quite right as they danced together…his was how Joe met David. At this time, David’s sexuality was in question by him and almost everyone who met him. He was genuinely a fine person, experimenting with his sexuality, having no clue where, or how to place his feelings, his attire, or his body. He was no mother’s boy but adored his mum. Even in the light of the interval he looked gorgeous. It may sound curious, they hit it off as good friends, for quite a long while before Joe lost contact .

Dressing up was his experimentation, anxious to find his niche but failed, so shortly afterwards he reverted back to almost normal gear. He then arranged for an interview in a retail shop in Trongate, Joe reckons this was a happy period in his life. He tried his hand at window-dressing but proved to be crap at the art…lacking totally of all things… imagination. He left the store though Joe kept in touch, meeting at a pub in Hope Street called the 505, notorious for being gay. Going into such a bar took bottle, as the impression that gays are easy going is far from the truth. If someone took a shine to him, they drew daggers if Joe appeared on the scene, even worse when they mistakenly fancied Joe.

David was no longer the happy baby face, for the unwanted dark experiences had hardened him, which built a barrier between him and life. He had a lover who was a bum, pardon the pun but that is exactly what this low life was. In such a impressionable state, he encountered an old queen who used, and abused him as one of those tragic victim’s .

David had drastically aged the last time Joe saw him, cynical within a craggy disapproval manner. If he had dressed in a feminine custom once again, he would be an old hag with a boil on the nose, knitting and viewing Madame Guillotine at her worse. They arranged to meet up in the’ Crystal Bells’ at Glasgow Cross, but then again David did not turn up…or Joe did not recognize him. Just now and again Joe wonder’s where he is, and if David is all right…Joe hope’s so?
-=-=-=-=
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peter.howden
post 23rd Jan 2021, 08:50am
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My Chronicles 23/01/2021

Since my last entry it seems nothing has happened under the dim vial of this dragging lockdown …yet lots have unforeseen transpired, both physically pleasant and mentally fretting. We received a phone call on Thursday evening from Aunt Becky’s home, notifying a slight incident of Becky taking a tumble while attempting to sit down. It appears she fell on her rump, fortunately bodily unhurt. We have not physically seen Aunt Becky for some 14 weeks due to lockdowns occurring, though we indeed trust their judgment, at last I have a visit on Monday 1 of the afternoon clock…fingers crossed.

I have been thinking quite a lot about Uncle David, probably because Friday was his birthday…he would have been 99 years young. In 1989, I recall David being the first visitor, when I was taken to hospital, with a broken leg. Arriving there by ambulance, feeling sorry for myself. Uncle David entered the ward with these first words; “Well…that’s your job up in the air!”. When Rebecca first introduce me to the family, he took her aside and whispered, “watch out for him, he’s tricky? ”…possibly he was right.

After all this time in vital lockdown ‘She who must be obeyed’ and I, managed reasonably well keeping sane, although I have been gruff a few times which doesn’t last long. Once or twice, I must admit being cautious when Rebecca is cleaning those sharp knives…with a far away look in her eyes. We try to have a flexible routine, breaking up cores during the day attempting to avoid the dullest telly until evening. The lockdown has demonstrated how much our abilities have altered, slowing to a easier pace. Outside activities are limited to the garden, although in this weather practically nothing, other than short bursts cleaning up, plus walking to the post box with a fantasize letter…and back again.

A growing list of people we wish to see when this virus is put to bed. So, once again, we can mingle with the outside world. I don’t believe it is original, but we intend to hold a party with immediate family, to celebrate Christmas, birthdays, everything, and anything…however being a Glaswegian Scot…. I’ll watch the pennies. I have a wish to keep company with a gentleman in Ayr, just to shoot the breeze …and the magic humour we share. Also, for Rebecca and I to make a date with the wonderful couple from Fife way? Last but not least, the Two Tops…hope eternal.
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