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Sunday, 25 April 2010

GRANT AND THE VAMPIRE

Whitby, on the north Yorkshire coast, is a very special place, I love everything about it, the rugged coastline, the history, the Gothic connections, it is a place that we have visited several times and have been lucky enough to holiday in more than once.

This is a 'True' story, anyone who knows anything about Whitby will know of its connections to Bram Stoker's Dracula and may have also visited 'The Dracula Experience' - Enjoy.

'Grant & the Vampire'.



Now on the North Yorkshire coast there’s Whitby
Where fresh air and fun can be had
A certain family group up from Stevenage
Went there with old Grant, their dad.

A grand old gent was their Grant
Dressed up all Goth-like and swell
‘He’d a stick with hard black handle
The finest that Boots the Chemist could sell.



They didn’t think much to the seaside
Hundreds of people all milling around
Stuffing chips and feeding the seagulls
That squawked making ‘orrible sounds.

So in search of some entertainment
Looking for, something different to do
They found the Dracula “Experience”
Guaranteed to scare the s**t out of you!



Having paid to enter the establishment
(It didn’t cost much by the way!)
They entered a dark world of gothic mystery
Where, Werewolves and Vampires hold sway.

As they wandered around the old house
With its state of the art special tricks
Bram Stokers ‘Dracula’ was slowly narrated
With set-scenes emphasising good bits.



Now amongst all the animatronics
And special effects as good as can be
The odd actor dressed up like Dracula
Would leap out of nowhere, scarily.

There was lots of shouting and screaming
Laughter and swearing as well
As in the Darkness the Vampire appeared
To cart your souls off to hell



So the brave little party moved forwards
Followed by Grant at the rear
When ahead came screams and laughter
We sensed that old Drac must be near

On the stairs we turned a blind corner
Dimly lit with lights all blood-red
Racing towards us with cape a’ flapping
Came Dracula, oh such terrible dread!


The girls at the front of the party
And the lads as well to be true
Squealed and jumped back sideways
Avoiding vampires like that as you do.

But there in the corridor behind them
Was Grant our hero with his walking stick
Which the vampire didn’t see in the darkness
It went right between his balls & his dick!


It was Dracula who let out a scream then
A cry of horrible pain
What was that? The group in the front said
It’s nothing said Grant, I’ll explain.

If you want to slay an old vampire
There’s no ands, ifs, maybes or buts
The best way is quite accidental
‘it ‘im ‘ard with a stick in the nuts!































































































Saturday, 17 April 2010

CAMPING WITH CATS

Camping with Cats

Some people go camping for pleasure
To revel in the great out-doors
Joining as one with nature
Escaping the confines of four walls

Some people go camping for holidays
Others with Boy Scouts or Girl Guides
Or maybe it’s for festivals or hiking
Who cares when it’s all done outside

In a moment of cider induced enthusiasm
After a wonderful family Bar-B-Q
I decided to sleep out in a tent in the garden
“Oh good” she said “You can have the cats with you”

The night was unseasonably hot and humid
A good night for cats as they say
As I tried to drift off under canvass
Well the cats, they decided to play!

At 1am Domino decided
A flying squirrel he would become
Landing spread-eagled upon the tent roof
And ‘pinging off’ was obviously much fun

If I turned over or moved any part of my body
Brushing against the side of the tent
Jasmine was out in the grass waiting
With sharp claws and no honest intent

At 3am Marmalade declared herself lonely
And demanded entry to my restless domain
She proceeded to march around purring
Went out and then came back again
It was all too much for young Hendrix
He crept in and curled up by my legs
Until he started playing cat “Paw Wars”
With the cats outside in the garden instead
At one point I zipped the tent tight shut
To keep the furry feline things out
But they played and they purred and they wailed
Thus leaving me with absolutely no doubt

I unzipped the door of the tent
So the cats could come and go as they pleased
I became oblivious to their attentions
And at last into deep sleep I eased

The moral of this tale is quite simple
Camping’s great fun and all that
But when escaping to a night under canvas
Never go camping with cats!

Saturday, 10 April 2010

EASTER WANDERINGS

So what did we get up to during the Easter period?

Well, first there was a fine day spent at Shepreth Wildlife Park where we spent the day meeting many fine animals:-



Then of course was the splendid afternoon spent at Sharpenhoe Clappers:-


More of that later - See Musings below.

And the fine day spent in Hatfield Forest:-


We even hosted a party for the birds in our garden!

Some Poems inspired by places I have visited:-


Sharpenhoe Clappers

Tread Softly

Tread softly o’ my sweet things
Ere you waken the dragon
That sleeps beneath this hill
Hush my children
Can you not hear his breath?
Gently rustling through the leaves

The trees sway rhythmically
In unison with the rise and fall
Of the dragons chest as he sleeps
Down deep below the Earth
Their roots reaching down
To the very edge of the dragons lair

This land is sacred, it holds a remnant
Of a power ancient and long forgotten
Tread softly ‘o my sweet things
Bow your heads in reverence
Let your minds be clear
Then may you hear the dragon sleeping

Do not waken the dragon
This land is not yet ready for his return
Although some beacons may brightly burn
Electric blue
Lights dance among the sacred circles
Flash from stone to stone
We are not alone

Tread softly o’ my sweet things
Ere you waken the dragon
That sleeps beneath this hill
Bow your heads in reverence
Let your minds be clear
Then may you hear
The dragon as he sleeps.


Therfield Downs

Descending
In the misty drizzle of a winters afternoon
We walk on paths where mud and chalk mingle
Sea shells disturbed by digging rabbits
From just below the sub soil testify to the fact
That this land once was an ocean
Laying down these chalk hills which we now climb
To a summit seventy two metres above sea level
The highest point for twelve miles in all directions
A time for reflection, and for catching breath

Despite the chill of the wind and the dampness of the rain
Our presence here disturbs Skylarks which rise
Higher and higher singing all the way
We watch in fascination as they hover
Then, with wings tucked in, plummet earthwards
Landing gracefully and disappearing once more
Into the long grass from which Keira collects
Empty snail shells from the verges of the Icknield way

Here on Therfield Downs the ancients certainly knew
How to honour their dead
Five, Bronze Age and one, Neolithic Long Barrow
Cap the summit of these sacred hills
Where we stand watching the train snake its way
Between Hitchin and Cambridge on the levels below

A single Hawthorn bush stands beside the path
At this time of year it is stark and bare
Except for the skeletal Hare caught in its branches
How it got to be there will forever be a mystery
Just one of many in this compelling landscape
As we, cold, wet, muddy but exhilarated
Make our descent back to our world.

Avebury & West Kennet
Following The Moon

I followed the Moon
As it set in the West
Above Silbury Hill
It came to rest
I climbed the path
To the barrow long
Where the white witch
Sat to sing her songs
Among the stones
In chambers dark
Whilst outside sang
The sweet Skylark
Amid green fields
And rolling hills
For in this place
My heart is stilled
By awesome beauty
And ancient power
Growing stronger
Hour by hour
The energy builds
In stream and stone
At last for a while
I’ve come back home
And thirty years
Have passed us by
As if in a mere
Twinkling of an eye
Until once more
We stood together
At our special place
Brother to brother.