The Retired Bloke

We have been glued to the Tin Star box set on Sky. Today’s poem is inspired by a couple of scenes from the show.  Lost and Found She stood deep in the forest Alone, conscious of her vulnerability The coldness of the night  Brought a bitter chill to her bones Shivering, quivering she longed for home Branches cracked incessantly underfoot As she searched for hope Unidentifiable sounds created a cacophony Of mystery and foreboding Weaker and weaker she stumbled onwards  Never knowing whether she’d taken the right path At each clearing it felt familiar  Too familiar Her heart sank as she failed to find an end An end to this ever growing nightmare Exhausted and confused she sank to her knees  No longer able to go on Her head in her hands  She broke down and wept  Resigned to a slow painful demise She heard a voice in the distance  A voice that grew louder and louder A mans voice A voice she recognised I’m here she beckoned As loud as she could muster Would it be heard He called again Sh

This morning when we opened the curtains a magical snow covered scene greeted us. This was beautiful and even more so as I didn’t have to go to work! Then I remembered that I needed to take Matthew’s car in for an MOT.  The scene then wasn’t so magical! Nature’s Gift The curtains are opened It’s just after dawn When the world is awakening And the birds are singing This morning’s almost hallucinogenic A scene spectacular quite dramatic Nature’s whitewashed the world A glorious beauty unfurled An extraordinary dreamland Glistening in the hazy sun A surreal scene transforming Gloomy streets and barren fields Into an enchanted snow covered haven Nature’s gift, a jewel, a magical creation

I think the sat nav in my car is the worst yet. It takes me to places David Attenborough would be excited to visit, when a simple trip down the motorway would suffice. Does anyone else think fondly of when having the map upside down was the only issue? At The Next Left She’s there with me Every step of the way No guarantee To get me there some day She monitors my progress She’s more than a women A favourite song by Tavares Blurting out from my radio that’s a given. When all of a sudden Without any notice With touching no button She aims to provoke us By telling us our progress That roadworks will delay us She gives us an alternative Which quite frankly Is sometimes quite punitive To try to get around the problem It’s not that I don’t trust her But that is the problem It’s the blind faith that I follow her Down farmyard tracks And through fields Where doing a u turns simply leads To further frustration No option for a conversation To work out the best solut

Ever since I challenged myself to do 10,000 steps a day I have become obsessed in getting the number in. That will mean taking the long route around the supermarket, taking small steps, well anything to get the magic number. Stepping I’m fretting ‘bout my stepping I’ve spent all day just trekking Ten thousand is my aim This started as a bloody game It’s now approaching an obsession Adding to life’s gloomy depression Stepping here stepping there Stepping bleeding everywhere!

Today we have visited The Hepworth in Wakefield. We love going to modern art galleries. However we still look at some of the exhibits with a bemused look.  Art A stack of arbitrary bricks A messy unmade bed Designless splashes of paint Wood randomly sculpted Stone fashioned indiscriminately What makes this art? Art delivers  A vision,an impression, a fashion or imitation Art emotes Affection, reflection, inspiration, or appreciation  Art evokes  Polarisation, rejection, indignation and condemnation Art is art if it creates a reaction. Follow me @  Facebook: The Retired Bloke Twitter: TheRetiredBloke Instagram: theretiredbloke You Tube: The Retired Bloke

I have absolutely nothing against vegans whatsoever. It’s just that I don’t think I could stop eating meat. However I do appreciate to cut down on meat for health and environmental reasons. The poem below is not intended to upset anyone...it is just a humorous rhyme to explain it’s not for me. By the way I don’t eat crocodiles or kangaroo...but do eat burgers! Must Be Tough Being a Vegan It must be tough being a vegan When feeling rough  Can’t have eggs and bacon Always having to check the packet Or have to resort To another bloody jacket Without butter of course All in the interest of Saving the planet I love any animal  I love the world But I can’t be that radical To give up my burger I know there are some that’ll think I commit murder I couldn’t revert to checking the menu To have only one choice Forever denied dumplings and stew Crocodile and kangaroo Feeling fabulous with the fondu Chicken curry and meatballs too I may have to take sanctuary In my local steakhouse  While oth

This poem was inspired by the loss of the Premier League footballer in a plane over the Channel Islands. It got me thinking what would be my last thoughts if I were only given minutes to live... Life’s Last Moments Five minute warning Life’s last moments Played out slowly Too slowly, only time To think, reflect On those we will leave behind Memories once distant Come flooding into focus Childhood recollections Mums loving arms holding you Scenes of forgotten love Fly into clear crystal view Dad picking you up when you fall Times we played bat and ball Four minute warning Life’s last moments Played out slowly Beautiful moments Of life’s history Days in the sun A long hot summer Playing soldiers with my brother Tenacious tennis with a friend Whose early death I could never comprehend Grandparents undying love Looking after me from above Childhood dreams I thought would never end Three minute warning Life’s last moments Played out slowly A lifelong love re

Today I had to ring a call centre to sort out my blocked password. Well an hour later eventually I was sorted.  IVR Blues  Hello you’ve reached the interactive voice response blues All calls will be recorded for disciplinary purposes Doesn’t matter which of the following numbers you choose They will all be put through to our terrible services Now let me ask you questions for our security It helps if you have recently done your family history Tell me what was your mother’s favourite maiden over? Thank you now did you ever go to a school in Dover? Ok tell me the name of the first girl you called pet? And the third digit of the password you always forget? Well done you you’ve now passed security We’ll put you on hold for the rest of eternity Your call is so very unimportant to us Who wants to hear about all your fuss Well anyway here’s some Fleetwood Mac On our tea break, will answer when we get back To let us know whose best placed not to deal with you Please press one, two or three

This weekend we visited Camden Town. This is such a vibrant eclectic part of London. Really worth a visit. Camden Town A potpourri of punk A rebellion of rock Pretty pink pop Coexisting in Camden On streets psychedelic A hubbub quite hectic Art beautifully eclectic A planetary platter Of continental cuisine Fights for the tastebud Sticky toffee pud Waffles wafting Sweet almost tasting Bohemian chic Beat boxing buskers Guitar strumming singers A surreal slapstick clown Playing in the street On a stroll in Camden Town

Yesterday on the way to London we were listening to Jeremy Vine on Radio 2. There was an item on lyme disease. A lady rang in to the programme to explain the agony she had endured as a result of getting lyme disease. She was weeping with the nightmare that she was enduring. I had never even heard of lyme disease. Apparently it is important to get the disease treated as soon as possible. If not this invasive disease will cause complications for years.  Tears Rolled Down My Cheek Yesterday I was moved A tear rolled down my cheek A lady on the radio Crying to the DJ In pain beyond belief  Her anxiety and anguish Disturbed me with her grief  Helpless to support her Wanting to reach out Say some words of comfort Let her know we care Nothing could I do But feel how fortunate we are Yesterday I was moved A tear rolled down my cheek Listening to a lady crying Whilst driving in my car

Lesley doesn’t like the theme of today’s poem. However I am sure I am not alone in my dislike of using public WCs. Am I alone? Apologies if it is just my warped view of the world! The Trap Is it me?  Or am I the only one Who doesn’t like to use  A public WC? It’s not the urinals I’m talking about But the traps Often full of crap With toilet roll  Damp and disgusting Left there by the last Inconsiderate chap Fuck  There’s no hook  To hang up your coat Need care to avoid Your trousers Being sodden being soiled It freaks me out To see someone’s feet Peering from under The neighbouring pew All this after having to queue Often left there hovering  My bowels resisting  Dumping in this tiny space This hideous place I’m struggling to start Put off by the bloke  Next door Who emits  A bloody enormous fart Thank god I’m finished Time to play hide and seek With the thinnest Toilet roll tightly rolled up So no one gets any Gets right in a strop As I fiddle around The dispenser not dispensing M

I have got to admit I like a bit of cake from time to time. Usually when the day has got a “y” in it. This one reflects my passion for these sweet treats. Cake Tea cups clinking Tea pots pouring People chatting Friends are laughing A tea shop is the place to be But it’s not the tea it’s the cake for me It doesn’t matter whether it’s a Brownie Banoffee Coffee Or Dundee Maybe even a Strawberry Panettone sometimes A fondant fancy My mouth waters at the thought of a Babka Babousa Banana Genoa Jaffa Madeira Opera And Pavlova Sometimes I fancy an Apple Angel Marble And fat rascal Other times I’m drawn to a Carrot Chocolate Coconut And Charlotte Nothing else matters for just one moment When cake alone’s the most important component.

We were having a discussion today about why people are so obese today. I don’t know whether my memory is playing tricks but when I was a kid things like takeaways seemed too expensive. (That was when you could find one!) It feels like all the foods bad for us are now cheap and all the good stuff too expensive. The opposite of what it was when I was a lad!  The Shitty Foods Were Too Expensive When I was a lad  We couldn’t afford To be fat Except that is for my dad All the shitty food  Was far too expensive  Everything eaten Seemed to be stewed  A simple take away  Was a packed lunch No Burger King or Krispy Kreme Tempting us as there is today We had bangers and mash Beans on toast  Occasionally a Sunday roast A lovely comforting corned beef hash As a treat we had a Vesta Curry Or a bowl of Angel Delight Sometimes a lovely trifle Only when we had enough money My mum made sure  We ate our greens Cabbages sprouts  Nothing exotic nothing obscure We couldn’t afford to be fat We simply ate  W

As we wait for the outcome of tonight’s Brexit vote I thought I would have a bash at a little Brexit ditty.  The Boat is Sinking The boat is sinking What are we thinking Some want to bail Some want to swim Some want to stay Some want to fail The boat is sinking It’ll be soon too late  Our options are shrinking There’ll soon be no choice We will be condemned Condemned with no voice We need to be brave See each other’s point of view To avoid an unnecessary watery grave The boat is sinking Have we thought this through? What a disaster  What can we do? 

Somehow the other night I ended up watching The Kardashians with Emily. I couldn’t believe it how they all looked the same and how they have sparked off a wave of look alikes. I think it is sad in society that girls go to such efforts to look like these so called celebrities, sometimes undergoing surgery.  Maybe it’s just me being an old fart!! The Mask Don’t hide behind your mask Be brave let your feelings fly free Let the world see you for what you are Not what you think the world wants to see Beauty lies within you, deep inside Not what is plastered upon your face Wisdom comes with years Be proud of those years Sketched indelibly upon your face You are unique, a miracle of your existence Not an homogeneous clone Be proud of who you are  Hug life and you will not be alone. 

After a great night out last night with our friends Ian and Lynn it was hard to get up this morning... Ten More Minutes Tossing and turning my sleep is broken  Thoughts dancing a quickstep through my mind I try to awake before one word is spoken Trying to prepare to meet humankind The gap in the curtains tells me it’s morning  So I make the first feeble attempt to raise from my bed  To remain snuggled up feels at once so tempting I think I’ll have ten more minutes instead. 

It’s amazing how one cup of coffee in the morning makes all the difference.  God I needed my cup this morning! Coffee It peps me up in the morning As the day is dawning  When I can’t stop yawning My aching bones and body When I am feeling shoddy Revitalised with a cup of coffee!

Yesterday we were out with friends and for no apparent reason I started whistling. It was commented on that there is not much whistling going on today. One thing led to another and we started thinking of phrases with whistle in them, e.g. whistle while you work. Then randomly I was challenged to put them into a poem. So the following piece of nonsense is the result;  Whistle Way back when When proper men Whistled while they worked Went for a beer or two To whet their whistle Whizzing on a  Whistle stop tour Pleading the players To play to the whistle Watching with wives Whistle Down The wind Way back when When men knew nowt Knew nowt about art New nothing of  The artist Whistler Couldn’t use the hoover Hadn’t been on a holiday To Whistler in Vancouver Well that’s enough of me and me whistle.  Don’t get this epistle? Well you know what you can do! Go whistle! 

I have always been a runner but last year I got into biking. Need to plan this year’s first ride ASAP. Need to try out some new Lycra Lesley bought me for Christmas!   Sitting Tight in Lycra Donned from head to toe in Lycra  Bobbing in and out of traffic Avoiding driver turning left in Micra Skin tight almost pornographic Oh for the joy of the bike Wind blowing in the hair Avoid being knocked into dyke Lorry passing as close as he dare.  Pushing hard up big hill Lungs working to bursting point Freewheeling down big thrill Will never disappoint I love driving in my car  But on a bike there always a reaction That even though you’ve travelled far Finishing journey safe massive satisfaction.  

Today I dropped my car off for its MOT and decided to run back from the garage. It was a little earlier than I would normally go...but I felt good!!  In The Zone In the zone All alone Striding out  Working out Feeling good Feeling fine Feeling today Is all mine!

Yes shopping with Lesley...another shop another lengthy wait outside the fitting room.  Fitting Room Women with their dresses Swishing Me outside the fitting room  Sitting Waiting for my opinion Wishing I didn’t have to give one!

Last night Lesley and I met up with our Yorkshire friends who we met on our Douro cruise last summer. It was great to catch up with these great people. Here’s to the next reunion!  The Chartwell Six The inaugural meeting of the Chartwell Six Gathered to remember the Douro trips  The amazing Tony talking about planks David and Karen with pranks in their banks Guy demonstrating great photography  Joan with her dancing, lovely armography  Lesley declined to say she enjoyed running All gathered together for a dinner quite stunning. 

I saw this phone box in Leeds today and it got me thinking back to the early days of mobile technology.  Lost The Signal Back in the day When a phone box Was on every corner When no one Had ever been to detox I used to have a mobile phone I know I was not alone But this was in the day Of phones being connected To the car  It couldn’t reach very far But I felt so important  Like being in MI5  A spy, an informant  I progressed to a hand held Built like a brick Couldn’t work out this new text thing  Felt rather thick  Often self conscious Speaking in public People would look People would stare A lunatic to which They would compare I’m losing signal  Was the latest slogan I had two blobs But now down to nil I was seriously spooked When I called my mate He said hello Dave Before having the chance to state It was me who was calling My mum thought they were appalling  Would never catch on Would frazzle the brain Would end up insane Then there was the

Last night we had a great night out at Jax in Huddersfield. This was one of our best ever restaurant experiences. Great food, an exceptional waiter/host, superb live music and plenty to drink. The drink bit leads me to today’s poem. I am now of an age when a good night out writes off the next day. Like everyone I always say “never again”. Well once again, when I woke up this morning, I uttered those very words. This time I am going to stick to it... well until the next time, which is tomorrow night!!! The Morning After The morning after The mind’s a fog Bleary bulging eyes  Battling through smog Incapable of anything, far too weak Mumbling and muttering Can’t get words out Incapable of palpable speak Stomach churning Must start learning Must be more discerning Start refusing any more boozing  Start remembering the last time On drinking too much wine I committed to refrain From over indulging ever again. 

Today we have been taking down the Christmas decorations. As we have collected more and more baubles each year this is turning into a mammoth task. It is also a little sad as it means the festive period is well and truly over.  When the festivities are over What to do when the festivities are over  When the trimmings are gone And there’s no longer a hangover. Preparing for work is the aim of many Whilst suffering the post holiday blues Back to tedious meetings with Jack and Jenny For some there is a hope, a desire Of a positive change in the world To spread goodness and love like a wild raging fire For me it is easy, for me it is clear In a world incomprehensible  My aim is simple, to be better than last year.

I have been spending the week at my 85 year old mother’s house. It is sad to see how some previously active people deteriorate as they get older. As I pass the age that is generally regarded as middle age, thoughts turn to concerns about getting older... I’m a little scared... I’m a little scared Of getting old Of being well past My sell by date I’m a little scared Of losing my mind Not being able to think Or contemplate I’m a little scared Of losing my function My independence Not able to operate I’m a little scared Of forgetting  My name or people Who I used to call my mate I’m a little scared Of frustrating My wife and kids While wallowing in a mixed up state I’m a little scared Is it down to me? Can I not control? Is it simply fortune and fate?

I am currently reading Michael McIntyre’s autobiography Life and Laughing. One chapter reminisces about his school discos. It got me thinking about my first school discos in the 1970s.  School Disco The school disco A nervous affair The night to be cool To try not to be a fool Dressed in the latest fashion Oxford bags with massive waistbands The more buttons the better Acrophobia inducing Platform soled shoes  Carefully concentrating on not cockling over Jumbo collared shirts  In technicolour prints Checking the breath Chewing a couple of mints The popular kids arrived Busting a confident stride Straight up to the bar To buy a bottle of pop The rest nervously shuffled in Gathering like cattle and sheep In the unwelcoming gym.  All echoey and vast Music loud a deafening blast From the hired DJ kit Hypnotic headache inducing Flashing lights lit up the room Wafts of Brut and cheap perfume  Girls in one corner Boys in the other Peering tentatively  In each other’s direction Still huddled t

I am not sure what got me thinking of back to the time, when I used to go for journeys, with my mum and dad, sat in the back of their car. How times have changed...no seat belts in those days and left in the car outside the pub for hours on end. Didn’t mind though as we got a bottle of pop to drink in the car. If we were lucky a bag of Smiths Crisps too! (The ones with the blue bag of salt in them)  Back of My Dad’s Car When I was young It was an adventure  To travel afar in the  Back of my Dad’s car There were no rules No health and safety No buckles and belts Harnesses and boosters Standing between the seats Chatting to my dad  Pretending to drive  Fighting with my brother Pulling faces at another Driver in the following car Kneeling on the plastic seats Cold in winter Hot in summer You know the type Dad puffing on his pipe Creating a smog Couldn’t see a thing As we filled in  Our I-Spy books Looked for number plates Or strange road signs  Coke and crisps  He would bring When parked