I don't take many photos and I couldn't find any blue ones so this week I pinched them all from Google Images!
BLUE tune
BLUE tree
16.2.09
Blue
This weeks colour on True Colours Thursday is Blue!
I don't take many photos and I couldn't find any blue ones so this week I pinched them all from Google Images!
I don't take many photos and I couldn't find any blue ones so this week I pinched them all from Google Images!
15.2.09
Me and sport don't mix
I've got to write about sport for Sunday Scribblings this week. I hope you like this piece.'
I was never very good at sport when I was a child. I was a gangly kid, quite a bit taller than my peers with bits and bones sticking out all over the place.
I remember the embarrassment of sports day when I always came last in everything. Although I was very tall for my age I had a problem with brain/leg coordination. They sort of flapped around and my arms kind of joined in.
It was great. I ran for all I was worth legs and arms flailing all over the place and the egg stayed put. Okay, I still didn’t win, but I didn’t come last. I was so thrilled when I crossed the line that I flung both arms up in the air in a sort of victory salute, pointing my egg and spoon toward the sky – and the egg magically stayed in place. I got into trouble for cheating.
I ought to have been good at the hop skip and jump. They call it the triple jump now - why’s that? I hop reasonably well, skip was a bit of a challenge but the jump not bad at all.
Oh I must tell you about this. One year I was entered in the sack race. I put everything I had into hopping along. Hop, hop, hop, higher and higher and I didn’t do too badly. When I got to the end I dropped the sack to the ground and stepped out. Well, several of my friends were laughing at me! Suddenly my teacher rushed up to me and said ‘Rosey where are your shorts?’ It seemed that I had leapt up down so enthusiastically that they had fallen down and remained in the bottom of the sack.
When I went to big school my sports consisted of hockey, lacrosse and archery and I quite enjoyed it. My parents wanted me to take up polo but I think that was more to boost their standing in the local community. Royalty play polo so if it’s good enough for them it was good enough for me!
How things have changed. The school were I work has a non-competitive sports day. I ask you, whatever next? It’s supposed to be fairer towards the less sporty members of the school. But to really succeed in life you need to compete in just about every area, and where better to prepare yourself than in school. It did me no harm. I was useless at sport, but good at English. In that subject I shone. In that subject I always came first.
And that’s not all. This year we can’t do the sack race or the three legged race because the Health and Safety spoil-sports consider it too dangerous. What they are really worried about is possible claims being made against the school if little Johnny twists his ankle or sweet Jessica breaks a finger nail. What strange times we live in.
I was never very good at sport when I was a child. I was a gangly kid, quite a bit taller than my peers with bits and bones sticking out all over the place.
I remember the embarrassment of sports day when I always came last in everything. Although I was very tall for my age I had a problem with brain/leg coordination. They sort of flapped around and my arms kind of joined in.
.
The egg and spoon race was always a disaster. I simply couldn’t keep the pesky egg from dropping to the ground every few steps. One year I decided to cheat rather than face the annual humiliation of b
ringing up the rear. I secreted a bit of that blue sticky stuff in my shorts and when nobody was looking I stuck the egg to the spoon!
ringing up the rear. I secreted a bit of that blue sticky stuff in my shorts and when nobody was looking I stuck the egg to the spoon!It was great. I ran for all I was worth legs and arms flailing all over the place and the egg stayed put. Okay, I still didn’t win, but I didn’t come last. I was so thrilled when I crossed the line that I flung both arms up in the air in a sort of victory salute, pointing my egg and spoon toward the sky – and the egg magically stayed in place. I got into trouble for cheating.
I ought to have been good at the hop skip and jump. They call it the triple jump now - why’s that? I hop reasonably well, skip was a bit of a challenge but the jump not bad at all.
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Trouble was I always got them in the wrong order! I’d skip when I should have hopped and jump when I should have skipped.
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I liked the three legged race. Not because I was good at it, but because we always ended up in fits of giggles rolling on the ground!
Oh I must tell you about this. One year I was entered in the sack race. I put everything I had into hopping along. Hop, hop, hop, higher and higher and I didn’t do too badly. When I got to the end I dropped the sack to the ground and stepped out. Well, several of my friends were laughing at me! Suddenly my teacher rushed up to me and said ‘Rosey where are your shorts?’ It seemed that I had leapt up down so enthusiastically that they had fallen down and remained in the bottom of the sack.
When I went to big school my sports consisted of hockey, lacrosse and archery and I quite enjoyed it. My parents wanted me to take up polo but I think that was more to boost their standing in the local community. Royalty play polo so if it’s good enough for them it was good enough for me!
How things have changed. The school were I work has a non-competitive sports day. I ask you, whatever next? It’s supposed to be fairer towards the less sporty members of the school. But to really succeed in life you need to compete in just about every area, and where better to prepare yourself than in school. It did me no harm. I was useless at sport, but good at English. In that subject I shone. In that subject I always came first.
And that’s not all. This year we can’t do the sack race or the three legged race because the Health and Safety spoil-sports consider it too dangerous. What they are really worried about is possible claims being made against the school if little Johnny twists his ankle or sweet Jessica breaks a finger nail. What strange times we live in.
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14.2.09
Let's hear it for Saint V!
It’s Valentine’s Day so I thought I’d drop by and tell you what I got!I got – wait for it – 6 cards!
I had a pink one with hearts signed ‘xxx’.
.
A sparkly one signed ‘??’
A little one with a bow signed ‘Guess who’
A big one with a kitten on it signed ‘I’m yours’
A sensible one with picture of roses, unsigned - thanks Daddy!
And a jokey one with this written inside
I love your lips
your eyes so bright
I even love your cellulite
I even love your cellulite
I also got a box of Belgiun chocolates, a bunch of pink roses (whoever sent them knows me well enough not to send red ones) a bottle of Chardonnay with a ribbon tied around it and two wine glasses (how romantic) and a heart shaped helium balloon which I accidentally let go of! If you see one passing over head it’s mine!
And I must mention the huge card I got from all the children in my class. They decorated it with hearts and flowers and inside it just says ‘We love you Miss Pinkerton’ I had a little cry when they gave it to me yesterday.
I hope you are enjoying your day. Happy Valentines!.
...
13.2.09
Valentines Day!
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I’m glad I’m single on Valentine’s Day. I can get heaps of cards without having to explain anything to a jealous male!
That’s assuming of course I get lots of cards this year. But then I’ve done rather well in the past after all.
One card I know I’ll get will be from my Daddy. I know it sounds odd, but there’s a good reason for it. When I reached thirteen or so he decided that his little girl would never suffer the disappointment of a Valentine’s Day without a card dropping on the mat. I didn’t realise it was him for years, but even though I get more than my fair share each year, he’s kept the tradition up and I LOVE it!
Last year I had a card with this verse in it
How do I measure
The love I have for you?
I thought, while idly watching
A sparrow sippin' dew
And as I pondered thoughtfully
I gave my head a rub
And then I thought "Oh sod it
I'm going to the pub!"
Now I wonder who that was from Keith?
We’ve had great fun at school this week. All the kids in my class have made Valentine Cards. Some are excellent and some are a little rude! We gave them a whole lot of verses to chose from and write inside like
What kind of flowers do you never give on Valentine's Day? Cauliflowers!
What do you call a very small Valentine? A Valentiny!
Anyway, they put then in envelopes unsigned, and now they are sitting in a pink cardboard mail box which we’ll open Friday before they head off home.
The best thing about Valentine Day for me though is finding chocolates and flowers outside my door. I have to admit I prefer the chocolates to the flowers but that’s natural isn’t it!
This year four of us are going out for a meal together. We’ll have pink champagne and sexy food like asparagus and oysters, and we’ll have a giggle at all the lovey-dovey couples billing and cooing across candlelit tables.
And then we’ll raise our glasses to being single and loving every minute of it! (until Mr Right comes along!)
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10.2.09
A few silver thoughts
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This weeks colour on True Colours Thursday is silver.
I found this fabulous picture of a silver angel on deviant art and just had to copy it./
The shimmering boughs of a silver birch
sway lazily in the breeze above a sparkling
stream which dances and splashes
down a stairway of rocks
and glistening stones.
Did I really write that? Heck, I’m getting the hang of this!
Now, Whitebait suggested in a recent comment that I should write a piece about Keith’s silver hair. What a hoot!
Whenever anyone comments about his hair he always trots out the old cliché ‘there may be snow up on the roof but there’s a fire down in the cellar’. In his dreams! I tell him it’s more like slush up on the roof and ashes in the cellar!
Talking of silver and hair, what do you think of this hair slide? It’s from the Northumbrian Holy Island of Lindisfarne and I have been told it’s about two hundred years old – the slide that is, not the island!
'Next week True Colours Thursday will be Blue.
silver angel by slekt at deviant art
silver angel by slekt at deviant art
6.2.09
All Dali could paint was melting clocks and things
'
I have to write about Art for this week’s Sunday Scribblings.
'
Do you remember me telling you about the flower and produce show in my parents’ village? One year as well as my vegetables and things I entered a painting in the arts and crafts section. Don’t laugh!
Well a few years ago I joined an art class. Up until then the nearest thing I’d done to a picture was painting by numbers or filling in a colouring book. But my Mum always thought I had flair. She liked the way I added my own interpretation the picture I was colouring . I was flattered of course, but if the truth be told I used to get muddled with the colours and had great difficulty staying inside the lines! She took that to be me expressing myself.
Anyway, I religiously went to the village hall for my classes every Wednesday night and really came on well. I didn’t always understand my teacher’s one word comments. He would say ‘yessss’ or screw his eyes up and say ‘mmmm’
The highlight of the six week course was to be a life study. I didn’t really know what a life study was but I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to appear stupid. So you can imagine my shock when a handsome young man came into the room and took his kit off!
At first I thought a streaker had invaded our class, but when no one else seemed particularly alarmed I realised that we were about to paint a nude. I was SO embarrassed. I didn’t know where to look. Actually, I did know where to look and ....wow....!
I thought I did a pretty good job of it. Ok, my painting was not exactly life like, It was a painting after all, not a photograph. But I was encouraged by my monosyllabic teachers comment – ‘I say!’ he muttered. I took that as quite a compliment.
So back to the village art and crafts competition. I entered my life study, in fact I titled the piece ‘Life Study’.
I didn’t win. The first prize went to my Mother for her dull water colour of a boring bunch of flowers. Second was a landscape which I reckoned was copied from a post card and third was a portrait of a man with big ears. It was called ‘Prince Charles’ but I couldn’t see any likeness - except for the ears!
Just as I turned to walk away a special prize was announced for the most original painting in the competition. As I kept walking I heard the name Rosemary Pinkerton called out. I thought lucky Rosemary then realised the prize was going to me!
I turned to see the Vicar holding up the painting with a huge grin on his face. ‘Strewth’ I thought. The vicar is smiling at a picture of a naked man! Whatever next?
Then he said something along the lines of ‘It’s not often we see impressionist paintings in our annual contest’
I was about to call out that it was not intended to be an impressionist painting, when my friend Keith appeared from nowhere and clamped his hand across my mouth. ‘Don’t say a thing’ he whispered. ‘Just smile and accept your prize graciously’
The vicar continued ‘The judges could not fail to be charmed by this amusing yet understated image of a.....of a.....’
Then he paused, looked at the picture and then at the judges. They all looked blank and old Major Trumpleforth shrugged his shoulders.
He continued ‘this image of .....of......a pig. Yes, a prize pig’
I gave up art. I clearly never was going to be the next Picasso or Constable. I still have the prize, a little silver sculpture of a dog – or is it a cow? I’ve never really been sure.
.
.
I have to write about Art for this week’s Sunday Scribblings.
'
Do you remember me telling you about the flower and produce show in my parents’ village? One year as well as my vegetables and things I entered a painting in the arts and crafts section. Don’t laugh!
Well a few years ago I joined an art class. Up until then the nearest thing I’d done to a picture was painting by numbers or filling in a colouring book. But my Mum always thought I had flair. She liked the way I added my own interpretation the picture I was colouring . I was flattered of course, but if the truth be told I used to get muddled with the colours and had great difficulty staying inside the lines! She took that to be me expressing myself.
Anyway, I religiously went to the village hall for my classes every Wednesday night and really came on well. I didn’t always understand my teacher’s one word comments. He would say ‘yessss’ or screw his eyes up and say ‘mmmm’
The highlight of the six week course was to be a life study. I didn’t really know what a life study was but I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to appear stupid. So you can imagine my shock when a handsome young man came into the room and took his kit off!
At first I thought a streaker had invaded our class, but when no one else seemed particularly alarmed I realised that we were about to paint a nude. I was SO embarrassed. I didn’t know where to look. Actually, I did know where to look and ....wow....!
I thought I did a pretty good job of it. Ok, my painting was not exactly life like, It was a painting after all, not a photograph. But I was encouraged by my monosyllabic teachers comment – ‘I say!’ he muttered. I took that as quite a compliment.
So back to the village art and crafts competition. I entered my life study, in fact I titled the piece ‘Life Study’.
I didn’t win. The first prize went to my Mother for her dull water colour of a boring bunch of flowers. Second was a landscape which I reckoned was copied from a post card and third was a portrait of a man with big ears. It was called ‘Prince Charles’ but I couldn’t see any likeness - except for the ears!
Just as I turned to walk away a special prize was announced for the most original painting in the competition. As I kept walking I heard the name Rosemary Pinkerton called out. I thought lucky Rosemary then realised the prize was going to me!
I turned to see the Vicar holding up the painting with a huge grin on his face. ‘Strewth’ I thought. The vicar is smiling at a picture of a naked man! Whatever next?
Then he said something along the lines of ‘It’s not often we see impressionist paintings in our annual contest’
I was about to call out that it was not intended to be an impressionist painting, when my friend Keith appeared from nowhere and clamped his hand across my mouth. ‘Don’t say a thing’ he whispered. ‘Just smile and accept your prize graciously’
The vicar continued ‘The judges could not fail to be charmed by this amusing yet understated image of a.....of a.....’
Then he paused, looked at the picture and then at the judges. They all looked blank and old Major Trumpleforth shrugged his shoulders.
He continued ‘this image of .....of......a pig. Yes, a prize pig’
I gave up art. I clearly never was going to be the next Picasso or Constable. I still have the prize, a little silver sculpture of a dog – or is it a cow? I’ve never really been sure.
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3.2.09
Oranges are so a-peeling!
This week True Colours Thursday is all about Orange!
I love oranges. Big juicy Jaffa’s, little tidley mandarins. Gorgeous. I adore crepe suzettes because of the orange sauce and duck l’orange is just yummy. There’s nothing like a glass of Grand Marnier orange liqueur, and I quite like Orangeboom Dutch beer even though it doesn’t taste of oranges.
And how about those Terry’s Chocolate Oranges? Whack and unwrap! As for Jaffa Cakes – I’m dribbling at the thought of them.
Orang-utans are kind of orange. Well, I suppose they would be. So are carrots.
I went to a fancy dress party as a carrot once. I already had some orange jeans, and I got an orange shirt from a charity shop. I then decided to dye my hair orange and tie some green ribbons in it to look like leaves! Someone asked me if I had matching collar and cuffs and everyone laughed. I didn’t see what was funny because I was wearing short sleeves and had no cuffs.
Anyhow,I thought the dye I used would wash out but it didn’t and I was known as ginger nut for weeks afterwards!
That reminds me of the time my friend Keith dressed up as the Incredible Hulk for a New Years Eve bash. He used green food dye on his face and hands and arms and legs. But the next morning it wouldn’t wash off and he had to take time off work until he looked less like a lettuce! He was not so much Incredible Hulk – more like Incredible Sulk!!
So, next week our colour is silver. Why don’t you join in?
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I love oranges. Big juicy Jaffa’s, little tidley mandarins. Gorgeous. I adore crepe suzettes because of the orange sauce and duck l’orange is just yummy. There’s nothing like a glass of Grand Marnier orange liqueur, and I quite like Orangeboom Dutch beer even though it doesn’t taste of oranges.
And how about those Terry’s Chocolate Oranges? Whack and unwrap! As for Jaffa Cakes – I’m dribbling at the thought of them.
Orang-utans are kind of orange. Well, I suppose they would be. So are carrots.
I went to a fancy dress party as a carrot once. I already had some orange jeans, and I got an orange shirt from a charity shop. I then decided to dye my hair orange and tie some green ribbons in it to look like leaves! Someone asked me if I had matching collar and cuffs and everyone laughed. I didn’t see what was funny because I was wearing short sleeves and had no cuffs.
Anyhow,I thought the dye I used would wash out but it didn’t and I was known as ginger nut for weeks afterwards!
That reminds me of the time my friend Keith dressed up as the Incredible Hulk for a New Years Eve bash. He used green food dye on his face and hands and arms and legs. But the next morning it wouldn’t wash off and he had to take time off work until he looked less like a lettuce! He was not so much Incredible Hulk – more like Incredible Sulk!!
So, next week our colour is silver. Why don’t you join in?
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