The Retired Bloke

It is a time for reflection It is a time to be grateful It is a time for affection It is a time to be thoughtful It is a time to appreciate  It is a time to be excited It is a time to contemplate  It is a time to be clear sighted But most of all it is a desire For health, love and happiness free from dangers Making a difference,to help to inspire Let’s raise a glass of cheer To our friends, loved ones and strangers  Here’s to a wonderful Happy New Year

Yesterday Lesley and I went for an impromptu meal with Matthew and his girlfriend Caitlin to the pub at the top of the street. I was disappointed to realise that I had left my phone charging at home. Well, I guess it’s not a surprise that it was one of the best meals out we have had with our family for a long time. No-one was distracted and we all learnt so much about each other that we didn’t know. I have got to admit I didn’t miss taking that picture of my meal!! I Forgot My Phone Yesterday I forgot my phone I didn’t feel all alone I didn’t miss interacting with social media Or checking out holidays on Expedia No need to look every second for mail Or whether on eBay I had made a sale Didn’t matter how many extra followers Or Catch Up watching an episode of the Borrowers No need to play Words with Friends Or looking for the latest Twitter trends A check for hits on my blog could wait Or recording on Lose It my current weight My online bank account wouldn’t change Could exist without k

Still in the twilight zone between Christmas and New Year.  Too much time to think...and my thinking got me round to considering how much preparation goes into getting ready for just two days... It’s Finally Over Sixty days of preparation Spending money no hesitation Wrist hurting from writing cards Happy Christmas yours regards Trimming the tree with decorations Collected from numerous nations Ears hurting from Christmas songs Presents bought to right the wrongs Supermarket slogs to buy the turkey Some little additions some quite quirky Presents wrapped all glistening and shiny Mine to the wife is a little tiny A few glasses on Christmas Eve  At last a time to relax and breathe No young kids so we’re aloud to snooze Just as well, as we drank too much booze Turkey stuffed and in the oven Table set for about a dozen  Queen’s speech comes and goes  Glued to the set some festive shows Dinner downed with a glass of bubbly Feeling stuffed, bloated and chubby A few silly games to pass the ti

It’s that twixtmas time again. Nothing much happening...so today I have just spent time playing with words and came up with this poem called Drivel.  Drivel This is a trifle trivial A poem not political Pretty petty, partly potty Lacking lucid language A bonkers brainstorm  Bordering on bollocks A frivolous frolic Meandering meaninglessly  Ebbing and flowing Perpetually pouring  Mind numbing nonsense Best before breakfast A bonanza of banal boredom Designed to drive you dotty Depending on your disposition  A frisson of fantasy Not meant for Auntie Hard of hearing Hattie Partly passing for prose More like a double dose  A death defying drivel This is crap official Stunningly superficial Bereft of anything beneficial Waiting, wanting the final whistle Wishing this pissing poem would end Fishing for a final full stop Stop, stop, stop This is a stinker Hook line and sinker!!

We visited The Turner Art Gallery in Margate. The main exhibition was Patrick Heron. He was an abstract artist, born in Leeds, who died in 1999. I always feel that when I see modern abstract art that I could do it, or certainly could when I was a child!!  Abstract Vibrant colours awash the walls Arty folk stand and stare Entranced by total abstraction A distraction from grey soulless lives Long hair, braids and edgy hats Peering over glasses Stroking beards All reality disappears  A splash of red A swoon of maroon A splatter of pink A gaggle of green Some shades never previously seen Shapes showered on the canvas Random yet very specific Breathing life with every brushstroke  In the outside existence  Less bohemian types Show a resistance  To this nonsensical world Of make believe  Or magnificent observation You decide....

Today we went for a walk in Kent to burn off a few Christmas calories. Unfortunately I forgot to bring Lesley’s wellies and only brought her walking shoes. Foolishly I thought walking shoes were for walking!! Anyway I was in trouble for not bringing the wellies. (PS situation exaggerated in poem somewhat)  I Wish He’d Brought My Wellies! At the church over the stile Onwards into the muddy field Atmosphere a little hostile Anger only vaguely concealed  I wish he’d brought my wellies Looking down, mud getting thicker Backs of trousers splattered with dirt Taking steps getting somewhat trickier When she slaps me I hope it won’t hurt! I wish he’d brought my wellies!  Up and down the public pathways  The moaning continued with vigour Seemed to go on for days and days  If she had a gun she’d pull the trigger I wish he’d brought my wellies  Well the walk was nearly over Mud clarted on her shoes for all to see Felt like we’d walked from Margate to Dover Hope she’d find it in her heart to forgi

( Picture taken on Boxing Day last year) A year ago today I started writing poetry. I had not written any rhymes since I was at school. When I mentioned it to my mum she said, unbeknown to me, my grandad had been an enthusiastic writer of verse. Well anyway today is the anniversary of my first poem. I committed, on this day last year to write a poem a day for a year. Well yesterday’s was the 365th poem I have written. (Not all good may I add!) Here is a poem about achieving this milestone.  A Year Ago Today  A year ago today I am not sure what inspired me What drove me To write a poem A poem about my state of mind Maybe to find myself On this new journey A life changing journey Not since school had I written a rhyme Guess I hadn’t had the time So therapeutic did I find the process  That delved into the recesses of a mixed up mind I made up this mind to write daily A poem about life, my life Others’ lives, society  Moments of history Things inconsequential Occasionally sentimental Somet

This morning, despite having a few beers last night, and it being Christmas we decided to take part in the Margate. Joining me was Lesley and my brother and sister in law, Paul and Lynne. Despite feeling a little delicate I managed to finish in about 25 minutes.  Margate Christmas Park Run.  Christmas hats Runners knee Bloke dressed up As a Christmas tree Some were keen Some were not  Down the boozer Some had been.  Park runners chatting  Some like Santa  Padding aplenty Extra cladding Starters gun All elf let loose Bobbing hats Lots of fun  Some were quick Some were slow Some too fast Were nearly sick Merry Christmas  Happy New Year Park run over Time for a beer!!

When I was a kid Christmas Eve seemed to be the longest day. I was so excited that the clock seemed to stop turning. It was the only night of the year I wanted to go to bed early so that Christmas Day would come sooner!  Today’s poem tries to capture the excitement of the night before Chrsitmas;  Christmas Eve Tick tock, tick tock The hands turned slowly Tick tock tick tock It was not that I was holy Tick tock tick tock Would Santa ever come Tick tock tick tock Be patient said my mum Tick tock tick tock Pillowcase put in place Tick tock tick tock A spare one just in case Tick tock tick tock A peek into the sky Tick tock tick tock Is he coming I do cry? Tick tock tick tock Time to go to bed Tick tock tick tock Cuddle up with ted Tick tock tick tock Too excited to sleep Tick tock tick tock One eye open to peep Tick tock tick tock Christmas can’t come too fast Tick tock tick tock Fast asleep at last Tick tock tick tock Dark still outside Tick tock tick tock Excitement cannot hide Tick toc

Manchester United are my second team after Hull City. I was so pleased with the impact that Ole made yesterday. It was like a Man Utd team of old. It got me thinking of the art of motivation.  Motivation The secret of motivation Is managing the emotion Being a positive inspiration Spreading a sense of elation  When all goes well; recognition When things go wrong don’t dampen ambition Create a sense of coalition and competition  Not attrition nor inquisition  Motivation not a text book rendition But a human to human exhilarating condition. 

A topical poem this morning following the chaos at Gatwick. May have to keep my toy zone locked away in its box!! Bloody Drone Could this be one man alone Creating chaos in just one zone Using a remote on his phone A new way of terrorism he has shown A modern day Al Capone Army operation, dog with a bone Holiday makers moan and groan Peter, James, Jenny and Joan Who this Christmas will be staying at home Such misery nothing will atone  Flights off to Berlin and Cologne All because of a bloody drone!

Last night Lesley and I went to see Echo and the Bunneymen, at the Holmfirth Picturedrome.  It is clear that, through the years, they have maintained their original fan base. There were very few people there under the age of fifty! An introvert Ian McCulloch sang all the Bunneymen hits to a very appreciative audience.  By the way if you haven’t seen a band at the Picturedrome you are missing out. It is regarded as the North’s best small music venue. Always a great view! Echo and the Bunneymen Greying, balding, middle aged men Bobbing along to rhythmic beats  From a time before Twitter and tweets Chanting along with Echo and the Bunneymen Greying balding middle aged men Beer in hand accompanied by the Mrs Not a time for cuddles and kisses Hands held aloft remembering when Greying balding middle aged men Some endured several divorces Bring on the dancing horses Eighties relived in a magic music den.

I am not very political I am afraid. I like to observe politics from afar. I was, though, amused that after months of infighting within the tories, one faux pas by the leader of the opposition, united the conservatives...even for just a short time. Who’s Stupid I am not a fan Of Jeremy Corbyn Or infighting in the tories Resignation stories I’ve had it up to here If I hear another Brexiteer Or a rambling remainer I think I’ll do a runner To where I do not know Away from the TV and radio A disconnected government Share prices in descent Chaos on the benches Some pathetic excuses For humankind I think you’ll find “Stupid Woman” he did say In question time yesterday! 

Last night we travelled to Whitby to stary over at the White Horse and Griffin. As we have retired we were missing out on a works Christmas do. So we decided to have our own, just the two of us.  The White Horse and Griffin is the oldest place we have stayed in. It was built in 1618. Captain Cook recruited sailors here. Charles Dickens slept here. Even Michael Caine has stayed.  It is a place steeped in history:  White Horse and Griffin Sleeping with history Among whispering walls Slanted windows Old wooden doors A creaking stair A wall brick bare Ghosts of the past Their futures cast Explorers plotted James Cook, William Scoresby The heritage thickens The writer Charles Dickens Candlelight, log fires Heightening the senses Awakening desires Eyes closed imagining Those who’ve travelled Through these ancient vestibules  Whose lives unravelled Wise men and occasional fools  Sleeping with history Endless legends magical mystery. 

Yesterday Lesley and I did our first day of traditional Christmas shopping in Leeds. We have done most of it on line or purchased bits and pieces when we were out and about. Yesterday was back to how it used to be. A list of people who we still needed presents for with only a vague idea of what to buy them. Well we spent ages just circling shops aimlessly viewing some items three or four times until eventually settling on something, often out of desperation, taking it to the queue at the till. I suppose this chaos, on a Monday, was due to us waiting to go shopping after it was starting to get too late to order on line.  Anyway here’s today’s poem inspired by the whole experience; Festive Fun Panic buying in the precinct Last minute Minnie’s That’ll do Dereks Rushing, crushing  In between  Squeezing through Crowded aisles Nail files, three for two Flannels, face masks, funky fart machines Stuff that’ll instantly gather dust Re-gifted to someone unsuspecting  Last minute

When I decided to start football coaching again the club secretary asked me whether I would like to attend a Futsol course. For those like me who didn’t know what Futsol was, it’s a five a side football game that is different to the five a side games we are used to in the U.K.  It is very popular in South America, Japan and Spain and Portugal and it is what a lot of the world top footballers were brought up on.  It is played with a smaller, heavier football that doesn’t bounce as much.   So here I was at Leeds Beckett University with what felt like a class of students. I was the oldest by about 20 years.  This was no problem in the classroom section of the course but when we got involved in the practical demonstrations of the game, it was a different matter.  I felt everyone of my 56 years! On one exercise I was up against a female school teacher.  I simply had to get the ball around her and put it into an empty net.  Ten attempts...no goals. It turns out that she was an ex Arsenal and

Yesterday we went to the Christmas Fayre which was being held in the community centre on our estate. How come when you go to these you end up spending a fortune on stuff that you didn’t want or get caught up in gambling on the tombola or bottle raffle? The Christmas Fayre Today I emptied my pockets At the local Christmas Fayre Smiling ladies sitting expectantly  Flogging festive trinkets everywhere Novelties and homemade scarves Tantalisingly teetering on table tops A slice of cake and a coffee To make this all worthwhile An enticing tombola ticket  Come on you Lady Luck Yippee I’ve won something Yes something, quite something Not sure quite what it is... Unabated I try the bottle raffle Yippee I’ve won something Something in a box to drink I think! Only there for half an hour But long enough to fill a bag A bag of stuff I’ll never need  But all in a good cause  My Christmas good deed A charity for stray cats indeed!

Yesterday Lesley and I, on the spare of the moment, decided to visit The Halifax Piece Hall.  It is a while since we were last there. Well, if you haven’t been lately I would suggest you go. There are great bars a couple of restaurants and numerous independent shops selling all sorts of gifts.  Being Christmas there was a couple of temporary bars in the square. It was just magical! A Little Bit of Piece What’s behind the numerous green doors? Adorning the majestic, historic three floors. Like an advent calendar, an exciting surprise Shopkeepers selling all kinds of supplies Restaurants and bars hidden in corners Selling mulled wine and other winter warmers Fairground attractions adorn the square A stunning space for all to share Under the arches Christmas revellers gather Imbibed with beer to ignite the chatter Twinkly lights shining bright for all to see A festive scene to fill your heart with glee An historic gem, a quadrangle of delight A magical place on this co

Yesterday afternoon we went to see The Voice Kids being filmed in Salford Quays. It was a marathon session of 7 and a half hours. We saw 12 acts being judged by Will.I.am, Danny Jones, Jessie J and Pixie Lott.  They were all superb and in my opinion as good as some of the adults on the main show.  However it got me thinking what sacrificies have been made to getting to the standard they were at. How much was down to  natural talent and how much down to encouraging parents...also read pushy parents. Would it be better to let kids be kids?  Where Have All The Kids Gone? Where have all the kids gone? Grown up before their time? They don’t want to be a cygnet Would rather be a swan! Is this down to pushy parents? Wanting their kids to fulfil Their unaccomplished dreams  Before becoming adolescents There seems no time to be a child To play with toys unplugged To enjoy life without responsibility To do things wonderful and wild We cheer at kids who can sing Like divas or

I was watching TV last night watching the local news and the heartwarming story of Dickie Bird and the Yorkshire cricket team visiting a children’s ward to hand out Christmas presents. However I couldn’t help but notice how big his ears had grown. A little bit of research and I found out that everyone’s ears and noses grow all our lives. Pity they’re the only parts of the body that continue to grow!!  Anyway this was the inspiration of today’s poem (not based on anyone in particular).  Old Men with Big Ears Great old men with fantastic big ears Scars and wrinkles for souvenirs Wisdom from a misspent youth Only one remaining natural tooth Great old men with enormous big noses Proud as punch of their prize winning roses Children love to hear their stories  Loved labour hated the tories  Great old men with aching backs Never wear coats always Macs  Used to smoke twenty roll your own Not much fun when you’re all alone  Great old men with a walking stick Nothing on face value, forever a sce

Today I am not feeling well. I think I have got a bit of man flu. My daughter says it’s down to too much exercise, too much alcohol and not enough water/hydration.  Will have to cut down the exercise! (Only joking Emily!) So too unwell to do a long poem today so here it is:  Man Flu Creeping stealthily  No warning One minute well Next minute hell Head banging Throat scratching Breathing wheezing Continuously coughing No end To the misery That I am causing To all around me! 

I woke up this morning in a rather confused state. I had set the alarm to be up to take Emily to the railway station. Somehow when it went off I had it in my head I had to go to work.  On realising this was just a fantasy, or should I say a nightmare, it got me thinking back to my daily commute to Bradford. How I don’t miss the daily battle with the M62. Never once did I win our contests!  So today’s poem is about the trials and tribulations of the daily morning commute routine...which I don’t miss at all! The Daily Commute The alarm bell rings Awoken from a broken sleep I slap it on snooze Another nine minutes Counting down the seconds To the second chime A little whine One foot at a time Eventually I’m out of bed Slowly I shuffle to the bathroom Shit, shower and shave A look in the mirror God my head does hurt Have I got an ironed shirt? Two socks that match? Now where’s my wallet and watch. Have I time for breakfast? Look at the clock Late again miss my All-Bran Get to the car

Tonight we had a lovely meal at The Ivy in Leeds. I had steak, egg and chips. You can take the lad out of Hull... Anyway it was a great night out.  The Ivy I’m just a lad from Hull I know this might sound dull But in my youth I never thought That I could be be caught  In a place like The Ivy I thought this were more cor blimey Than true Yorkshire grit Never thought at the same table I’d sit With posh folk dressed to impress Shouting out about their success  But here I am sat with friends Here in Leeds looking through a different lens  Time to reflect on how times have changed  That person from Hull has remained But in a different place never forgetting Nor ever regretting The journey that ultimately took me To a beautiful night at The Ivy. 

Yesterday I was shattered from a week of over indulging and getting home from Krakow at 4:00am in the morning. However I felt I needed to get my running back on track. So I decided to go in at the deep end and jog 7 miles. At the 6 mile point I’d had enough. At that point I determined that I needed to get fitter. Probably not a great idea just before the festive season! The Run Was No Fun!! Tonight’s run was no fun! Feet failing to pound the street As easily as they did before Feeling weak around the core Breathing heavy and rather irregular Trying to run as fast as I dare But getting nowhere particularly fast Didn’t think I barely would last The route that I had meticulously planned  Felt like running on quick sand I know I need to get out more More regular running, that’s the score So tonight will be the start I know that deep within my heart In order to not be a running loser Less trips are needed to the boozer!

Our plane from Krakow arrived in Heathrow an hour later than expected. Arriving back at our car at about 11:30 we had the dilemma...stay over at a Travelodge along the way or try and get home. We chose the latter option. I made it all the way to just outside Sheffield when I just couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. So I had a car nap in the service station car park while Lesley played Word With Friends. How many sad people are up at 3:00am playing Scabble online? Anyway we finally managed to get home at 4:00am.  I’m writing this a little tired!! Driving Round The Clock! Driving in the dead of night Gripping the wheel so very tight Music blaring to keep awake God I think I need a break Stopping in the service station A cold unwelcoming location For a pick me up shot of coffee To try to reignite my exhausted body  A loo stop and we’re back in the car Sat nav tells me we’ve still to go far A swig of water, some chewing gum A little bit of Wham I have a hum A few miles later feeling dr

I thought that title would get your interest! Read to the end and you will see my latest poem composed after Lesley, in a alcohol influenced moment, called me a “Tosspot”  This was after I announced that if anyone asked me what I did, I would reply “an illustrative poet!” rather than retired.  Anyway we composed this poem after a few beers!  Before that here are some of the highlights of our great trip to Krakow.  Walk along the River Vistula.  The Christmas Market in the Main Square.  The horse and carriages in the Main Square.  Schindler’s Factory museum.  Atmospheric bars.  Mocak Modern Art Gallery.  Gallery of Steel Figures.  The Jewish Quarter.  The unique restaurant Once Upon a Time in the Jewish Quarter.  Wawel Castle.  ...and now to today’s poem: Darling I Think You’re A Tosspot! Darling I think you’re a tosspot! .....sometimes! To be fair I’d rather be a sex pot! But chances of that are minimal Quite frankly my prospects are dismal! Belly growing rather fat...totally abysmal!