Down and out soon (for Twelfth Night)

Had a listening ear type time today with my pal-sis over the blogging101 carbunkle (again!)

If I were her ‘agent proper’ I’d be well annoyed at her association with improper conducts and improprieties that occurred in that particular arena. However, I’m just a mutual friend and associate. And I chose to mostly avoid it, having visited, been perturbed and snatched screenshots of some very bizarre behaviours by one of the volunteer team appearing to target another member with a potentially deliberate campaign. Anyway, I’m not meaning to rant about that. To preserve goodwill, privacy, respect and all.

I’ve been away for months and mostly in only offline company. It’s been a nice break, family struggles aside. I’m kinda sofa-hopping nomadically for a while but have a drop-in base here at my friends where my old desktop and their monitor and kit can be utilised to access my blog etc and catch up a bit between notebooking and not. So I’m making the most of it.

I’m sposed to be getting dinner ready, but don’t ever so fancy doing someone else’s washing up first and she bought salad and nice bread and I gotta tin of salmon so we’ll have that and I’ll wash up when I get back, cos it’s bound to still be waiting. While she perpetually wastes time banging her head against the tech wall that is an aging wifi adapter in  a clogging up ill-maintained bed-rest gadget. She used to do her tech stuff really well and should know better! I mean she advised me with mine so what the…?!

Anyway, she was whittling on about this shutterbug thing and feeling obliged and compelled to post something for the prompt ‘Love’, but apparently not having anything for that theme(!) As soon as she said about it, this photo she’d taken of one of her creative moments leapt into my mind. It’s in a folder with lots of her other photos from those years, while I was indexing and stuff for her. I wouldn’t have even started trying to blog if we hadn’t had this loosely lame and flimsy plan between a few and two of us… so, we’re still getting there between us. Eventually…

And I wanted to join in and showsome moral support – but not gatecrashing Blogger’s World to do so and don’t need the potential intrusions of trolling or whatever from any cloaked identities. Indeed I’ll be away at a masquerade enough for Twelfth Night soiree-ing soon enough after this salad and a nice cold beer with it. Maybe even time for coffee! So, tagging with ShutterbugShowcase should be enough to join in through the Reader if anyone still remembers to use that – I’m still looking forward to #blogging101 refreshers with co-learning community too!

So here’s Colette’s photo that I screen-grabbed and added text to for today, cos she and others on old mobile phones and slow connections prefer low-res images suitable for small screens. That’s also been our arrangement for my sharing her original work and also following her somewhat annoying method of displaying jpegs within the viewer frame that the viewer can’t resist clicking on an ‘x’ or whatever…


So any idea what it is and / or is made from? Clue: it’s not digital art and the photo this screengrab is from is entirely unedited raw image. [Answer to be revealed around Sunday!]

A poem of a sort, from me too, (only to justify another tag! and a bit of something ready for the soiree gathering!)


Last day of Christmas (while Little Christmas begins with the morn!)

Olde English origins and traditions

Verily vilified and scorned;

Even so, and even then, Twelfth Night wishings, with Love, to mend…

[I might be in bother for not drafting in couplets but we can argue over Shakespearean style in fine company later probably more than the words we’ll craft together!]

Happy New Year 2017!

Down and out soon (for Twelfth Night)

A choice…

In the distance, a voice, with no choice at all,

(p)reserves only humanity, with no choice at all.

(H)ear the distant thunders! Hear the distant sighs!

There is no gard living just the living ostracized!

Beneathe our footsteps hear our thunders

and fear not ur living age

cos the thunder you hear ripplin’

is just our thyme and s’age;

and then again  ‘she’ will denounce, as any living mother might,

to say that is no way to be and there’s no God-Given rite!

A choice…