Good evening, and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem.

This poem came to be about ten weeks ago, after a conversation with a work colleague whom I was telling about the Poem challenge – where I was inviting people to suggest something for me to write a Poem about.

My colleague – being a clever chap, and one who likes to think ‘outside the box’, didn’t offer up a specific topic or subject for me to write about. Instead his suggestion was one that had me thinking for quite a while.

He simply asked me to write a poem without the letter “A” in it at all.

So Marc, thank you for this – I really enjoyed writing it!



“Write your poem, without the first vowel”.

The instruction to me, is given.

Gleefully I nod – my thoughts unfurl.

With purpose, I write – driven.


Verse one, complete with the merest of fuss.

Some words required more thinking.

The rhymes will often be troublesome.

I find solutions when drinking.


Two down – E, I, O, U only present.

But where is this poem going?

My focus is on the vowels to use –

The story just isn’t growing.


Three for nought – still unspoilt

By the vowel I must not mention.

This test is proving to be no such thing

except one show of my word retention.


Verse four – done. The point is proved;

The instruction followed completely.

To my instructor, this note I send most humbly;


Tougher tests welcomed freely.



If you would like me to write a Friday Poem on a subject of your choosing, please get in touch and let me know. I’m open to all suggestions (as the grafitti on my local railway bridge will testify to).



























Good evening and welcome to my blog.

I have given this blog a life expectancy of thirty minutes – that is, thirty minutes in which to say all that I want to say. Should I complete this task in less than the allotted time, then fine. If not, I will publish it as it is – including mid-sentence if needed.

Can you feel the suspense rising?

Try harder.

I have looked at the clock and it is 21:07 GMT – I estimate that I have already been writing for three or four minutes, so my time runs out at 21:33 GMT. Time to get on with it!

I am a fan of James Bond films. I like the recent ones, and the older ones have a certain “cheesy” charm to them. I have liked all the “Bonds” – There is the question of who was better – Sean Connery or Roger Moore, and I think Sean Connery just nicks it for me. However, I have to admit recently watching a bond film that I didn’t like. It was “Never Say Never Again”, and it was awful! It just looked like it was on a very low budget – at least for the first half of the movie; the fight scenes were crap, Connery was clearly wearing a wig and his make up looked awful – in one scene he looked almost orange!

The second half of the film was better – Kim Basinger in a leotard will improve any film – as it seemed that the producers had realised they needed a bigger budget. But by then it was too late – I couldn’t watch any more.

I assume Bond saved the day?

I recently had a bit of a wobble about my poem writing, infact I’m still “rippling” as the wobbling stops. I had some rejection letters from publishers, and although I accept it was naïve of me to expect to get published straight away, to have someone say they don’t like my poetry was hard to hear. I bought a book about the rhythm and flow of poetry, but found that when I wrote as suggested in this book, my ‘voice diminished’. Fortunately, I received some guidance and advice from another very experience poet I met at an open mic night, who not only said that he thought I had a good poetry voice and he liked what I wrote, but also said I shouldn’t worry at this stage about the flow etc. that will come. For now, I just need to continue writing.

And not just poetry. Writing this blog is of immense help to me, so I intend to continue.

Times up!

Hello, and welcome to my blog.

Here is another blog down memory lane – when I lived somewhere else, worked somewhere else……but still attracted weirdos like I do today.


The Inescapable Tractor Beam of Accountancy Software, and Other Adventures

It’s been a busy day today. Again.

I was in work at 6:30 this morning to finish off entering those orders onto SAGE, the software we use to record orders and invoices and manage stock etc. Yet again it took me an hour and a half to enter 22 orders – which either means that at that time of the morning, I am really slow or that I am just really slow. I was relieved to get that done as entering orders onto SAGE can be tedious and annoying due to the little quirks built into the program.

At 9am we had a meeting to cover what was coming in, what orders were going out, and what needed to be done to facilitate the timely of dispatch of forthcoming orders. During the course of every meeting, each of us are given relevant tasks to complete in line with our responsibilities within the company. A couple of tasks given to me were to contact a couple of customers and book orders in for delivery, and update the delivery details on SAGE.

Being a Friday, my boss and his partner finish early and head off to Southampton where they stay for the weekend (they have a boat). The SAGE computer software is only installed on my boss’s partners computer, which she had turned off before she left so after booking in the orders as requested, I logged onto to her computer, accessed SAGE, and entered the details. Once done, I backed up SAGE (updated the back up files with the amended information added) and turned off the computer.

About 5 minutes later I realised that I had booked on order in for the wrong date, so I contacted the customer, changed the booking and then had to turn the computer back on, update the details, back up the system, and turn off the computer.

10 minutes passed and we received two new orders. I went back to the computer, turned it on, accessed SAGE, put on the new orders, backed up SAGE, and turned off the computer.

Then another new order from a different customer is emailed across. Back to the computer, SAGE, order on, back up, turn computer off.

Just to be different, a few minutes later ANOTHER order from another customer appears. Computer, SAGE, back up, off.

I felt like I couldn’t get away from the damn computer and that damned SAGE software.  It was like I was tied to it by a piece of elastic!

I hung around at work until 2:45 and then buggered of home. I was offered a lift, but as the sun was shining, I declined and walked. I stopped off at Co-Op to get some provisions, and when I was in the queue, I noticed the lady behind me had fewer items than me, so I offered to let her go first (I’m nice like that. Actually, I’m nice in many ways – for all the good it does me.). She took this as a request for a random conversation. Now, whilst I will admit that I often start talking to people randomly when I am out – and by randomly I mean sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t, I don’t mean that when I talk I say stuff like “radiator, pineapple, bi-plane, fish-light bulb hybrid” – but that doesn’t mean I like it when people do it to me. However, being a polite chap I indulged this freak woman.

She was quite short – about 5ft 1, and wasn’t the most attractive or effeminate female I’ve ever met. She had a weird hairstyle which was like shoulder length hair, but with the hair from one side of her head pushed up and over the top of her head. Like I said, the conversation was quite random. All of a sudden she said to me
“I met a bloke who was smaller than I was the other day – that was weird”

Before I knew what was happening, I just blurted out “you sure it wasn’t a child?”, and was instantly shocked by the rudeness of that statement. Luckily, she wasn’t offended but didn’t help matters when she replied
“no, it was definitely a man – he made me feel quite butch”

I had to bite my lip to stop myself from saying “what – more butch than usual?”.

Thankfully, she got served and went on her way.

So got home and found that either the mice were practicing fen shui on my kitchen appliances, or the handy man had been in to service my boiler. My toaster and kettle were not in their usual places. I assumed it was the boiler man, as I don’t have mice. I hope.
However, my happiness that my boiler had been serviced was short-lived as I discovered that I had no hot water. My hot water comes on by demand – when I turn on the hot tap of use the shower, not by me shouting out loud “Hot water now!” – and I here the boiler kick in at the appropriate time. But it wasn’t happening. I rang the man (Terry) and told him of my problem – not that one, the problem with the boiler. Terry asked me to check if he had left the Gas off in the meter box outside. I did this, and he hadn’t. So Terry said that he would come back tonight and sort out whatever he had left off or wrong with my boiler.

So here I am, waiting for Terry the boiler man to come and do his stuff. It’s 8pm (almost) and I hope he gets here soon, as I don’t fancy a cold shower tonight.

The Bonus Birthday Poem!!

Good evening, and welcome to my blog.

You lucky people – here’s a bonus poem for you.

I wrote this for a good friend of mine who is celebrating his Birthday today.

The Boy From The Coast

So, the boy from the coast
Hasn’t done half bad;
He’s respected and loved all round.
Even if he does insist on
Whipping his coprolite out,

saying”look at this poo that I found!”

He’s an ambassador for the Jurassic Coast
And a champion of getting outside.
You can find him on Twitter
And on Facebook too:
Look for ‘Jurassic Coast Guides’

But who is the man behind the backpack?
Whose feet wear those Zamberland boots?
Well, between you and I
He’s a really nice guy
Who is proud of his strong Dorset roots.

I admit that I have only known him
For a little under two years.
And although I can’t compete
When it comes to energy or looks
I do have a much better beard.

But this isn’t about me anyway;
Today is Martin Curtis’s story.
On this day of his Birth
Lets send him much love and mirth
And sit back, and bask in his glory!

Remember, if you would like me to write a poem for someone special, just get in touch!

via Studio for WP app.

Good evening, and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem.

This week’s offering is an example of a poem that I wrote for a friend of mine for his Birthday. It did it on a whim – which is not a traditional Mongolian table, but rather the spur of the moment. Frustratingly, some of my best work occurs in less than five minutes (although my fiancée might dispute the term ‘best’). For example, a colleague at work was celebrating their fiftieth birthday today, and her friends mentioned to me that they should have asked me to write her a poem, but had forgotten. I said that I still could write her a poem, and all I would need is some basic info about her. They told me that she was young at heart, like the singer Meatloaf and singing Karaoke – and that she was partial to a drop of Gin occasionally. I went away, and within five minutes had a poem written that encapsulated all the elements mentioned.

The friends read it to the Birthday girl, who liked it so much she cried with happiness.

I do offer a bespoke poem writing service – if you would like a poem written for yourself, or someone else perhaps to celebrate a birthday, engagement, wedding or other celebration – or to remember a loved one who has left us, All I would need is some information about what the theme of the poem should be about, whether any specific memories of events should be included, and I will create a poem about it.

Drafts of poems would be reviewed with you until you are happy, and I would discuss costs with you before starting.

I would be happy to discuss any ideas you may have – simply contact me using the contact from on the “about me” page of this blog, or by emailing me at

But enough of that! Here is the Poem I wrote – written for an excellent friend.

He liked it, I hope you like it too.


David Poem

There is a tale as old as thought itself

Of a hero strong and bold

Who despite the onward march of time

Was free from age’s hold.

Atop his head sat a crown of hair

Unrivalled in its sheen and lustre

And within his eyes, did mirth reside

For he had a wicked twinkle mastered.

And he was wise as he was young

He was practical with his hands

His skill with wood and with his axe

Was famous throughout the lands.

By god he couldn’t half whittle!

He’d whittle whatever you like.

He once pulled a log, right out of a bog

And whittled up two prams and a bike.

Now you’d think, that was enough for one man

But not him – he could play instruments too.

Another wonderful thing – whilst he played, he could sing!

And always had a song ready – or two.

And lo, as if reward for his greatness

The gods bestowed upon him a great wife.

With blazing red hair, a deep loving stare,

And like him, she was good with a knife!

And together they whittled two children

Who only strengthened the light that shone.

And the love that resides, in their house and outside

Is a beacon, always guiding him home.

Some say that this man is just legend,

Or that he’s made up – or even a joke.

But I know that he’s real – cos I’ve met him

And he really is a bloody top bloke!!

Good evening, and welcome to my blog.

This is another re-visit to the former incarnation of my blog – larry an every now and then blog – which I wrote every day between 2011 and 2012.

This blog is quite special in the fact that all the sentiment in it about dogs is exactly the same today as it was when I wrote it.

The only thing about this blog that has changed is the statement from me that “Cats are okay”. I now have a cat, Toby who is a much-loved pet and is more than okay to me.

Here is the blog post:


Today’s Blog is dedicated to Megan, Joey, Herbie, Tyson,  Donkey, Jack, Alfie, Bertie (Dirty! Bertie!), Solomon, Bosun, Blacky and Misty.

If you don’t get the connection between all these names, allow me to elaborate: They are all Dogs. Most are still with us, some have left us for greener kennels.

Megan, Herbie and Joey are – in my opinion – The Best Dogs In The World. They belong to Louisa. Tyson was Louisa’s dog when Megan was a puppy. Donkey is my Boss’s dog. Jack belongs to Leigh and Jim, Alfie is the dog that lives with Ben, Michelle and Cain (I’m not sure whose dog he is exactly). Bertie lives with Gwen. Solomon and Bosun were my parents dogs at different times. Blacky was my Aunty Agnes’s dog. Misty was my dog, many years ago.

In my opinion, these dogs – in fact all dogs – have one thing in common: They only ever give love. Dogs don’t do jealously, material greed, envy, hatred, frustration, sarcasm, spitefulness, bitterness, regret, revenge, or any of the thousand other negative emotions and things that humans do. Any behavioural issues with a dog is based on the way it is treated and trained, in my opinion. Dogs only do love – they don’t always get love back.

If you sit with a dog for three hours in a room, and then walk out of the room and close the door for fifteen seconds leaving the dog inside alone, when you open the door again, the dog is instantly pleased to see you. Every morning, when your dog sees you, happiness pours from it’s every fibre by the bucket load. How many of the people we see every day have the same reaction?

After a hard days work, the best way for me to wind down was to walk the dogs. Having a small dog snuggle up to me on the sofa – and then have a large dog leap into my lap because it thinks it is a small dog even when it’s a Springer Spaniel – made my soul soar.

Dogs don’t get a very good deal in most cases. Whether they get walked is at the discretion of their owner, in some cases the same applies to their being fed. We leave our dogs for long periods of time while we go to work, or go to the pub on a Friday or Saturday night. We shout at our dogs if they happen to be in our way when we  are in a bad mood. Some people kick and beat their dogs. Some people kill their dogs, or train them to fight to the death.

All a dog wants is to be fed, exercised, and loved. Imagine how simple life would be if that was all that you desired. It is not a lot to ask, yet in return they give unconditional love, loyalty, and they protect you as best they can if the need arises. Admittedly, they yapping bark of a Yorkshire Terrier might not deter a burglar or mugger, but the intent from the Yorkie is there. It’s like the saying says – “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size if the fight in the dog”. Although, I don’t want to think about where that saying originated.

I am a dog lover. Cats are okay, but it’s dogs for me every time. Yes they chew furniture, crap in the house when they are young, bark at nothing in the middle of the night, dig holes in the garden, and all the annoying things that dogs do. But they never tell you that you’re worthless, they never criticise, or complain. That wagging tail will mend a thousand broken hearts, fix a million bad days, and dry an endless river of tears – and all you have to do is acknowledge the dog that owns it.

If there is a dog nearby as you read this, give it some love. I guarantee it will love you right back – but you’ll stop way before it does.

If you haven’t got a dog – you don’t know what you are missing.

Hello, and welcome to my blog.

Never underestimate the power of your memories.

Modern life is a throw-away-and-move-on kind of existence. What is fashionable today, is out of date tomorrow. Yes retro is currently enjoying a resurgence, but that won’t last forever, and all too soon we will have something else shoved in our face that we must love or desire. It’s like a very rubbish conveyor belt game from “The Generation Game”.

(If you are under twenty, ask your parents).

But your memories last – even though you may not be aware of it until something recalls one of them. We keep them locked safely in our brains for years and years just waiting to be pulled out and looked at like a photograph album. Some memories are painful to remember, but I think we mostly retain the good ones – and they are never alone when they come back; one memory of a thing, or a place, or an event brings with it memories of the people you were with at that moment. Names and faces of friends and loved ones long gone appear before you, the sound of your laughter and theirs rings in your ears, the touch of their hand is felt on your skin, and even when remembering those we have loved and lost, a smile appears on our faces if only for an instant.

I had such a recall today. I was in town, shopping for a new notebook. I was in The Works (other stationery and book retailers are available) when I saw these books on display:


The moment I saw them, a memory of me reading these books as a child came flooding back to me – along with memories of the house I lived in, and my family. I must have been about 7 when I had these books – and they were my favourites at the time. I picked one up (Megs Eggs) and flicked through the pages – already knowing the story because my memory had stored it from all those years ago! Spoiler Alert: One page stuck out in particular; the page where a Stegosaurus is eating cabbages and Mog (the cat) is counting ’98, 99, 100!’. I immediately remembered counting that with my mum in bed at bedtime.

Mum died when I was sixteen, and memories of her are scarce because before she died she suffered a lot with Depression and spent a lot of her time alone in her room not being able to face the world. This memory of her and this book was so deep it wasn’t amongst the memories I was able to recall recently when asked by someone what memories I had of her.

Seeing those books again made me feel wonderful. I very nearly bought one – and as I write this, I wish I had. Although they don’t smell the same (yes I smelled these books; part of the memory of them was the smell of the pages), as the books I had as a child, the pictures and wording were exactly like they used to be.

For a moment, I was back home as a child with my mum and dad – a place where ever since they have passed away, I have wanted to be.

People are always saying “never forget where you come from”, and whilst I like what that message is trying to convey, I personally prefer “Always be prepared to let your past into your present”

I believe that our minds are subconsciously perpetually storing memories – a book, a song, a place, a single moment in time, it could be anything. And likewise, anything could trigger the recollection of them.

I find it comforting to know that in this fast-paced, disposable world we live in we have some long-lasting memories that come back now and then to take us away from the rush and bustle.

Thank you Meg & Mog, for taking me home today.