-It makes more sense than a couple of other things.

Mad Aunt Bernards Tortoise Poetry

"The page to come and visit for a fabulously sensible intake of poetry straight from the divinest of inspiration - and it's only a bit tortoisy. A cracking good read if you're under anaesthetic."
Lord Elpus - The Guardian

Wednesday, March 31

A Four-Legged Child & Aunt Penid's Premonitions

First of all, apologies for my absence, I've been given some new medication which interferes with concentration and rational thinking.....it's called shite weather. No really, I'm adjusting to some new weasel-skin pain-killing patches, and some anti-contrafibularity tablets. One causes hallucinations, one causes flying and other phenomenon. So I've been busy...yadda yadda yadda.
Right! Hello Faithful-But-Slightly-Off-Key People. It's been an eventful month. The March winds are always unpredictable, but they took my feckin' hedge! I moved into another one down the lane, but there was no socket in the tree stump for a microfilter, and when I mentioned Hedgeband 8meg to a BT supplier, the result was...change supplier. Gits.
Now I'm set up with my laptop, the toads are happy and will be home from school any moment. Life is good, or it was.
Aunt Penid rang on the yoghurt pot telephone the other day, apparently their daughter Vileda is ill, and needs country air to heal her ailments. Apparently, after drinking seawater and looking at a powerstation on the same day (they're very superstitious), she's grown an extra two legs.
Vileda has always been talented, in the picture on the far left she can be seen perching on her fathers' shoulder, like a parrot - something she'd often jump up and do to gain his attention. This backfired when he accidentally batted her off one day, after some tiresome pigeons had poupped on his suit. She's not sat up there since.
Aunt Penid is the stern woman in the wicker chair, she doesn't lick the lid of life. Her skills involve turbomancy. This is the lost Welsh art of predicting future events by rubbing turbots freshly pulled out of the water. Behind her are Cousin Imelda-Rabula (a world-champion slate layer and part-time coroner) and her husband Gimp (the less said about him the better....it never gets stuck there by accident).
They arrived on Tuesday, and I've had enough now. It's still Tuesday. I've written a poem about my feelings, on the suggestion of Dr Clangamunta from the Alternative Health Centre. He reckons I have a demon in my stomach. I reckon it was the squits after a madras, but there you go. This is what I wrote (it helps if you put it to the tune of 'A Bicycle Made For Two':

Dearest Family,
Please go and stay elswhere,
I feel violent
I could tear out my hair.
Cos you are all raving nutters,
With nowt' behind the shutters,
So pack and be gone,
And run along,
With ten legs between four of you.

Dr Clangamunta wanted me to fish out my inner bard. Codswallop, Shakespeare never got to the point, which was why he had so much trouble with women. If you look at a picture of him, it's obvious that he couldn't even tell a hairdresser what he wanted. Stick to cold, hard facts.
Vileda is a dreadful child, by the way, spoilt rotten. I'm glad she's got two extra legs, as they like me to take her on my walk in the morning - with two extra shoes to put on, it gives me a five minute head start.
So, folks, I'm going to sit out this horror, and be charitable. Maybe my inner poetry will take over where the tortoise left off (or has rarely been, there are only four proper tortoise poems on here...). I need something big to wonder on..... Aunt Penid can't read the turbot today, she's rubbed too many of them and they're hiding. So she's having a go at lousomancy. She's sitting by the woodpile and watching a plethora of woodlice and getting insights from their movements.
Aunt Penid has forecast that I will travel to the Moon next week, Aunt Vom will become more spiritually conscious, Aunt Gourd will think about something relevant for five minutes, Great Uncle Mandy will become manly, Folly will move out of home, and Aunt Mary-Jaffa will help out with the next Christingle Service. Yep...chinny-reckon, and on yer bike....
The woman's a crank!!!! .....
I will try and write something about tortoises next time. It's all very well having a blog that not very tortoisy as a joke, but this is taking the piss slightly...........


  1. Sea turtles read this post over my shoulder then heaved back under the waves.

    Aloha from Hawaii my Friend!

    Comfort Spiral

  2. What a coincidence - my old aunt Chlamydia used to rub tourists together when she got lost on her travels to the Isle of Wight ..... [note to self - buy some new glasses]

  3. ArAr. to have famly not as flat and dull as a toad a week after the bus ran it down with all wheels. Croak! These spiny things let us know we live, not that we were missing out all that much.
    Cheers to you. Have another pint.

  4. four legged children are a nightmare, there is no doubt!... mind you... there could be money to made there if put to work, I'll bet she can do a paper round in half the time of other kids! I'm sorry to hear of your hedge woes.. *insert clever bastard laughter :-)

  5. On the other hand, we have a parrot who thinks he's a toddler. I shall be hearing a Bicyle Built for 2 in my head all day!

  6. Dreadful child, think of all those extra dirty footprints all over your kitchen floor! Sad about your hedge, it takes so long to grow a new one but hope you are happy in your new abode.

  7. Sorry to hear your painkillers are interfering with the tripeflow, but it's good to see how your gift for spontaneous nadgering triumphs in the end. You've been gone so long, I was thinking I'd have to buy my own and damn the expense. I find the word "Thnannnnnngh!" springs to mind in situations like this, don't you?

  8. How lovely to hear from you all, I would say you're my window into sanity....but you're not.
    Luckily, I've outrun the little bugger today, ten minutes to put her shoes on, and she's hopeless with hurdles. There going home tomorrow, the toads can't wait. The new hedge is rather nice, I've got my twigless router installed and there's a nice hollow tree trunk to sit in for blogging. The leaves are coming out, the crows are yelling rude 'kaarks' at each other - life is good.

  9. I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you, Dear. Keep off those tablets and ditch the patches!! You've evidently become quite unhinged since I last visited. That is CLEARLY NOT your Aunt's daughter, Vileda, is it now? That IS Shergar - AND YOU KNOW IT!! Shame on you!!