Itchy Eric…

Hello hello hello!

Due to another journey by train, I proclaimed it a Crazy Rhymey Challenge day, and put out the usual call for words on Twitter.

Today’s words were:

shaggydogyarns – reciprocation

yorkshire_chris – sausages (again…!), treacle, pancakes

laurothecheerio – euouae

AnnieBC3 – pantaloons, esoteric, cinnamon

I may have taken a bit of artistic licence with the pronunciation of euouae…!

Er, I should probably also warn you that this one is a bit… whiffy…

Itchy Eric…

Long ago in Flanders, in a place called Sparton Perrick,
There was a lonely novice who went by the name of Eric.

The other monks they teased him as he was so very twitchy –
Poor Eric was too shy to say his habit felt all itchy.

To cover his embarrassment he hung out in the kitchen;
The servants didn’t comment on his shyness or his twitching.

He helped to stuff the sausages and fill the macaroons;
They let him take his habit off and just wear pantaloons.

And sometimes in the mornings when the kitchen was all quiet,
He’d make up his own recipes to supplement his diet.

One evening during vespers, midst the singing of the choir,
Some strange unholy noises were heard coming from the spire.

The Abbott gave a sniff and said “I’m sure I can smell treacle,”
“I’m not so sure,” the Friar said, “I think it smells more faecal.”

The noises echoed all around and drowned out the euouae,
And everyone agreed the smell was definitely pooey.

The Friar and the Abbott climbed up high into the steeple,
To try and find out what it was disturbing all the people.

And there right at the top they found the miserable Eric,
Regretting that his latest dish had been so esoteric.

All alone and itchy he had tried to make a pancake,
But accidentally sprinkled it with freshly ground-up mandrake.

To try and stop the shudders he’d then scoffed a persimmon,
Lightly stewed with chilli and a dash of cinnamon.

The sorry meal resulted in a bout of constipation,
So he’d eaten lots of figs and prunes to aid reciprocation.

The Abbott and the Friar shook their heads and said “Oh Eric!
It’s no surprise your meal proved so very atmospheric.”

Eric hung his head and told them of his chronic itching,
Explaining that was why he spent so much time in the kitchen.

The Friar and the Abbott found his misery distressing,
And so they bent the rules to solve the problem with his dressing.

Next morning in the chapel as they sang their matins tunes,
The monks all gaped in awe at Eric, in his pantaloons.

He stood erect and proud, and sang without a single twitch
So happy to be wearing clothes that didn’t make him itch!

But wait! I haven’t finished yet! Something fab happened! AnnieBC3 not only gave me some words, she also wrote a rhyme too! And here it is – I think it’s marvellous!

Esoteric Eric was a very learned man,
He liked to write in poetry –
He really was a fan.

He’d write haikus, rhymes & ballads
Full of mystical allusions…
But beware the sign upon his door:
“I’ll suffer no intrusions!”

For Eric worked in secret
And he NEVER shared his work
He really was the most pretentious, irritating BERK!

If you’d like to join in the next Crazy Rhymey Challenge, keep your eyes peeled on my Twitter feed for #CrazyRhymeyChallenge – it usually happens when I have a longish train journey home after a long shift, as the rhyming helps keep me awake so I don’t I don’t miss my stop…

Thanks to those of you that took part this time, and special thanks to AnnieBC3 for letting me include her rhyme here!

Bye for now!

Happy World Poetry Day!

Hello hello, and a happy World Poetry Day to you all!

I decided to do another Crazy Rhymey Challenge today on the train home from London, and then realised it was World Poetry Day – a happy coincidence!

Here are the words given to me today by the lovely folk on Twitter:

greywing – wretched squirrel

yorkshire_chris – truffles, jester, pigeon, ciabbata, sausages

celadonsusan – clay, bowl

LimeyLimericks – Robotics Engineer

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – I really enjoy these rhymey challenges! And it always surprises me where my mind ends up wandering to with the words that I’m given!

So here we go – here’s my rhyme for World Poetry Day, which had to have a bit of a poetry theme to it in honour of the day. Hope you enjoy it!

Trying to rhyme…

High up in a twisted tree
on top of Caldy Hill,
There perched a lonely squirrel
who went by the name of Bill.

He gazed out o’er the River Dee
And heaved a mournful sigh,
Then just as he began to weep
A pigeon fluttered by.

Hearing sobbing from the tree
The pigeon turned in flight,
And noticing poor Bill
She asked him if he was alright.

“Oh woe is me!” the squirrel wept
And gave a mighty snuffle
The pigeon cooed in sympathy
And offered him a truffle.

“I’ve run away,” poor Bill declared
“My dad is quite severe –
He sent me off to Uni
And he chose me a career.”

“The job he had in mind
was a Robotics Engineer;
But I was always more impressed
with rhymes by Edward Lear.”

“But now I think I’m not cut out
To live life as a poet;
There’s not a rhyme for sausages –
Unless of course you know it?”

The pigeon pondered thoughtfully
Then slowly shook her head,
“I don’t think one exists at all”
she very sadly said.

Poor Bill let out an awful howl,
“I’m such a wretched squirrel!
I can’t find any poetry
out here upon The Wirral!”

The pigeon gave a cry –
The squirrel’s words had quite impressed her
“Why Bill!” she said
“I’m sure you have the makings of a jester!”

“Did I just rhyme?” he asked in awe
And cheered up – just a smidgen,
“You did – you rhymed quite beautifully!”
Smiled kind and friendly pigeon.

Bill blew his nose upon his tail
And felt joy fill his soul,
The pigeon passed the truffles
And they finished off the bowl.

Then squirrel cleared his throat
And quoth “Oh, what a lovely day!
My dear friend pigeon, tell me –
Is that bowl made out of clay?”

The pigeon clapped her wings
And gave a little jump of joy
“Oh squirrel! Now you’re on a roll!
You’re such a clever boy!”

The bowl fell off the branch
And hit the ground with a faint clatter
And Bill said “Hang on, wait for it –
that sound rhymes with ciabatta!”

Bill and pigeon danced with glee,
And quite lost track of time,
But neither of them cared because
It was such fun to rhyme!

I think Bill and the pigeon are right – it is fun to rhyme! Happy World Poetry day, and thank you greywing, yorkshire_chris, celadonsusan and LimeyLimericks for taking part today!

Update: You can listen to my reading of this rhyme here!

Thoughts on blog promotion…

Happy St Patrick’s Day everyone!

Today I thought I’d offer a few observations – not really advice, as I don’t think I’m really qualified to do that – on promoting your blog. This was prompted by seeing a tweet from someone who’s just started blogging, asking if anyone had any tips on increasing blog readership. I tweeted a few thoughts, then thought ‘Why not expand on that in a blog post?’ – so here we are.

Before I start, I must make it clear that I’m not the sort of blogger that’s constantly checking stats and worrying when they’re low. Although it does intrigue me when they’re high, because I want to know why! Whilst I’ve had my blog for a few years, it sat dormant for quite a while and it’s only since January 1st this year that I really started it up again. More on that here and how starting to blog again really helped to kickstart my creative juices!

So, here are some little things that I’ve come to realise, or that I do, or don’t do. Actually this is going to include Twitter thoughts as well…

1. A blog post every day is the best way to increase readership and tempt people to follow you, or at least check in regularly to see what you’re up to.
2. Don’t always post about the same things, for example your craft, your business, your mission etc. People like to get to know you, so share bits of your life with them. Did something daft happen on the bus? You read a good book? Saw a great film? Your cat bought a live turkey through the catflap?
3. Think about blogs you like to read and visit regularly. What makes you revisit them? Why do you like them?
4. One of my personal hates are sceduled tweets on Twitter. I find it hugely annoying, and akin to lying – I ignore tweets that are obviously scheduled. If you’re not awake, don’t tweet! I appreciate people are trying to catch readers from different time zones, but personally it irritates the pants off me!
5. Another Twittery thing that bugs me is folk that tweet the same link to the same blog post day after day after day after week after week…! So I don’t do that.
6. Don’t just tweet a link to your blog post. Write something in the tweet, make it personable. And if you tweet the link two or three times on the day of posting, don’t just copy and paste – say something different in your tweet!
7. If you really want to have a massive view-boost for a day or two, get a link to your post re-tweeted by someone famous. Preferably by accident, without you realising it. Then allow yourself plenty of time to jump up and down on the sofa squeee-ing and frantically refreshing your stats as your views go through the roof. Be warned though that this will totally mess up your average view figures for the rest of the week/month/year! This was my post that got such a re-tweet – from the author himself no less! I thought my stats were broken until I dashed over to Twitter and noticed his retweet!
8. If someone comments on your post, reply to them.
9. I always pop a link to my latest post on my personal Facebook page. I don’t mind if people ignore it, but I know I have a few friends who like to read my blog, so don’t feel guilty about sharing your posts there. Just don’t do it 20 times a day!
10. Finally, don’t let your stats rule your life! Personally, I’d far rather have just a few hits a day from people who are genuinely interested in what I have to say, than loads of hits from people who are either ‘helping’ to up your views, or have landed there by accident because you’ve used a cheeky tag or two that aren’t really relevant to your subject matter.

So there we have it – my top ten thoughts on blogging and promoting your blog. If you find them useful, hurrah! If you don’t, or disagree, then never mind!

Laters!

Another crazy rhymey challenge…

Evening all!

To keep myself awake on the way home from a hugely long shift, I decided to do another Crazy Rhymey Challenge on Twitter, so put out a plea for words to include, or a subject.

These were the suggestions…

Stethoscope from @shaggydogyarns

Deipnosophist from @laurothecheerio (Yep, I had to Google that too!)

and

Thai Green Curry from @rachel__elliott

So. Er. Thank you girls… I think?!

And here’s the resulting rhyme…

Poison…

Flowers smell and candle flickers,
Dora wears her lucky knickers,
Table is all set and shiny,
Guests arrive and say “Cor blimey!”

From the kitchen see her scurry,
Dora with her Thai Green Curry.
Places it upon the table,
Brandishes a great big ladle.

Then she topples, hits the ground –
Guests all gasp and gather round.
Large man frowns and says “I hope
That someone has a stethoscope?”

Pockets patted, heads are shook,
A skinny lass at Dora looks,
“I rather think she may be pissed –
But I am no deipnosophist.”

“I think you’ll find you mean a nurse,”
A fellow said, then gave a curse,
“Good lord! But what to do?” he said,
“I fear that dear old Dora’s dead!”

Guests were squealing, minds were blowing,
Dora’s lucky pants were showing.
Then a voice said “Stop! Don’t worry!
I’ll serve Dora’s Thai Green Curry!”

Seats were taken, plates were filled,
Curry eaten, praises trilled.
Dora smiled a secret smirk
And waited for the drug to work…

I make no apologies whatsoever for that! I do enjoy these rhymey challenges – they’re also a great way of keeping yourself awake, so thank you ladies for your suggestions, and for keeping my brain occupied so that I didn’t fall asleep on the train and miss my stop!

Batty banter…

There’s been a bit of batty banter on Twitter.

American author Julie Anne Lindsey (@JulieALindsey on Twitter) tweeted that she’d had her basement ruthlessly invaded by a bat, which brought to mind the time I got followed home by a [insert collective noun for bats here] of bats. I could just look up the collective noun for bats, but I really want it to be a ‘squeak’ and don’t want to have my illusions shattered when I find out it isn’t.

Anyway. Julie and her family finally plucked up the courage to enter the afore mentioned basement again, and they found said bat asleep on the ceiling. They carefully took him down and he didn’t even wake up – look, she tweeted a picture:

Awwww! And thanks Julie for letting me include your photo!

As soon as I saw that picture pop up in my twitter feed it reminded me of when I was really tiny, and was out for a walk with dad. It’s one of those moments I remember really vividly. I wrote about it once, and after a quick check I realised I haven’t included it in my blog, so here it is….

————————–

The Bat

I was very small. Either that, or the hedges and trees were very big. No, I must have been very small. It was a hot, bright, sunny day, and dad and I were walking up the narrow road out of town on our way to visit the farm at the top of the hill. Sometimes there were lambs, and the farmer let me feed them from a bottle. Or was that just once? Maybe that’s what would happen next. Anyway, it was hot, bright and sunny, I was small, the hedges and trees were big, and I was with dad.

We were walking on the right-hand side of the road (Always Remember the Country Code) and our progress was slow as we’d keep stopping to investigate flowers and other interesting things on the verge and in the hedgerow. Maybe I picked some flowers for mum with my chubby little hands.

Then I saw it.

It was nestled in the grass under the hedge, eyes shut tight. I might have poked it carefully, but if I did it wouldn’t have moved. I showed dad, and he bent down to look – probably with a ‘Oooh, aaaaah’ – and told me it was a sleeping bat, just a little one, maybe a baby one. I’d never seen a real bat before, and he pointed out its delicate, folded wings. But why was it sleeping on the ground? I knew bats went to sleep hanging upside-down from branches. Perhaps it had fallen off its twig? Dad agreed – or maybe he suggested that – and he gently picked up the tiny thing in his big daddy hands and somehow got it hooked on a twig in the hedge so that it looked like a proper bat again. We carried on walking.

Of course it wasn’t asleep. But I must have been very small, maybe so small that dad didn’t want to explain Death to me. When I was a bit bigger and learnt about Death, I remembered that little bat and wondered why dad had lied to me.

Now I’m older I know he’d just been trying to protect his little girl, and not spoil the lovely walk in the countryside on that hot, bright, sunny day, with the hedges and trees, the Country Code, and maybe the possibility of lambs to feed.

Or maybe the bat was asleep? Maybe, by hanging it back up in the hedge, dad saved it from being eaten in its sleep by a sudden fox? And maybe when it woke up that night and stretched its batty wings, it vaguely remembered having one of those ‘falling’ dreams, and remembered a huge hand gently lifting it up off the grass…

My dad, my protector, with his big gentle hands.

I’ll never forget that little bat.

————————–

So that’s my little bat memory. I’m very glad I had the chance to share what I’d written with dad before we lost him – he remembered it vividly too, and said he was surprised I remembered it so clearly as I had been very little at the time. And he said he was sure it was dead, and I’d hit the nail on the head as to why he’d agreed it was sleeping…

But now, after hearing about Julie’s experience, I’m wondering if our little bat perhaps was just sleeping after all – in which case maybe we did save it from a sudden fox, and maybe it did have a little batty dream…

The little ash cloud…

Oh dear. I’ve been neglecting my blog. It’s all been a bit hectic here, mainly due to me suddenly finding myself in full-time employment again which has drastically eaten in to my online time. Thinky-writing time is still good though, as I have a couple of hours train commute a day, and a whole hour for lunch (gasp, luxury!).

And then that volcano went off again last week… so I haven’t been able to help myself. My first weekend after a full week of ‘proper‘ (?!) work has seen me glued to volcano webcams and Twitter… My name’s Rose Appleby and I’m a volcano fetishist…

Anyway, thought I’d better plop a quick blog, and what better thing to do with it than to share with you a silly little poem that’s been brewing about The Ash Cloud (I think it deserves initial caps, don’t you?). Like the ash cloud, it’s probably going to keep growing, but here it is so far…

I had a little ash cloud,
I fed it every day.
But then my little ash cloud
began to blow away…

It blew to Scandinavia,
it blew to Scotland too.
And then it blew to England –
I don’t know what to do.

My lovely little ash cloud
is causing quite a fuss.
Instead of people flying
they are forced to go by bus…

There’s people stuck in China
and strange sunsets on the Tyne;
I’m getting quite embarrassed of
that cheeky cloud of mine…

There, that’s what we have so far. Raw and uncut.

And now back to the webcams… oh dear… I’m such a volcano geek…

Erupting shed cats…

Ooops, been a while.  I know it’s been a while because it was black bin day again last week, and I thought ‘Oooh, haven’t blogged since last black bin day.’  And since I thought that, the blue bin’s been emptied.  Isn’t this interesting?  Can you guess which bin’s going to be emptied next week, boys and girls?

Busy, busy, busy – Shed 3 is done, and it’s now ‘resting’.  Or ‘brewing’.  No, ‘fermenting’, that’s better.  It’s almost time to go through it one last time before sending it on it’s way.  And while it’s been fermenting I’ve been going through 1 and 2, doing a bit of tweaking (and hopefully polishing).  All things Shed-wise seem to be falling into a nice, round place.  Which is good. I think?

Also been doing a bit of drawing – found a neat site called Etsy, and have set up shop selling my cat illustrations.

Speaking of cats, ours has gone a bit daft.  I think it might be the onset of spring.  He’s having mad half hours, tearing round the house and attaching himself to ankles.  And doing a lot of that ‘weave-in-and-out-of-your-legs-as-your-walking’ thing.

Oooh, this volcano in Iceland’s been quite exciting, hasn’t it?  Brought back memories of watching a Hekla eruption from Heimaey back in… 2000? Was at a christening party at the time, and suddenly someone rushed in, babbled about an eruption, and we all piled into cars and drove down to the harbour to watch.  I think I was expecting to see lava shooting up into the sky (yes, I know, it was miles away, silly!) so was dissapointed for about two seconds until I realised that the clouds stretching all the way across the horizon weren’t normal clouds – they were Proper Volcano Clouds.  Had one of those lift-shaft moments, you know, where your tummy drops a bit?!  And then, to top it off, a huge streak of lightening in the middle of the darkest cloud. Wow. If you really squinted, you could just make out a teeny tiny orangey-red dot on the horizon.  That was lava that was.

Right, enough, I have an appointment with a little bottle of India ink and some crayons.

Today so far – in rhyme

Woken up by dodgy knee

can I walk? We’ll have to see.

Coffee, toast, arthritis pill,

harvest roses in FarmVille.

Job search – yawn – there’s nowt today,

apply for something anyway.

Open Tweetdeck, see what’s new,

on Twitter, FaceBook, MySpace too.

Ooh look at that, well goodness me –

Spaceships playing NEC!

Tidy kitchen, empty bin,

catflap rattles – Oscar’s in.

Has his breakfast, cleans his fur,

sits on laptop with a purr.

Get some coffee, move the cat,

Skype and Bluetooth – let’s try that.

Plug in Bluetooth, wait and see…

dongle doesn’t like handsfree.

Open Word and move the cat

Granny Battle, more on that.

Sometime later time for toast,

check for email and for post.

Back at laptop, move the cat,

he isn’t very pleased with that.

Granny’s coming on quite well

when someone rings the front door bell.

Windowcleaner and his mate

pay him then unlock side gate.

Nightshift partner’s out of bed

coffee on and cut some bread.

Ask him how the evening went,

someone had an accident.

Car’s a write off but he’s fine

phone starts ringing, isn’t mine.

Back to Granny, nothing new,

light a fire and make a brew.

Wonder what to cook for tea

fancy curry, wait and see.

Neil Gaiman tweets a link,

pep talk on how writers think.

Read it through and feel inspired,

back to Granny ‘til I’m tired.