-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

Friday, January 25

The Great Grundomanci's Visit

Wintry Greetings, my little Sockettes.  I had the great pleasure of some of you getting in touch via facebook to ask where I've been.  I was very touched, to the point where my triple chin wobbled considerably.  Well, it's been a busy month for me.  Since Yuletide, I've bailed Aunt Vom out of prison twice following an incident with a sharp garden cane and a man asking £4 for a kilo of bird food, and an acupuncturist.  I don't know what the problem there was, and didn't ask.  

Then, just as I had the toads settled and the snow cloth over my hedge, The Royal Weasel phoned and said they had a visiting magician staying and were full up.  Knowing my excellent home comforts, they wanted to know if I'd put him up for a week or so.  I spoke with his agent and informed him politely that if he tried sawing me in half I'd give him a flat bugle and that was understood.  

So The Great Grundomanci came.  He flapped in with a massive cloak, which upset the toads and spiders, but apart from that seemed quite amiable.  The worrying thing was, he had my room, which meant I slept in a box I'd found in the outer hedge.  It was very pretty, with stars on it.  So imagine my dismay when only my bottom half got up to make him porridge in the morning.

Then things went from bad to worse.  Aunt Vom came to stay after a load of hooky kitchen stuff was found in her garage, and she took a dislike to all things magical.  This is the result:

Funny things, magicians.
You have to be on guard.
They have such funny habits,
To spot them all is hard.
No deck of cards was safe,
They find what you have chosen,
Then turn a set of tuning forks
Into finest laderhosen.
Aunt Vom was well pissed off
He took her blunderbuss.
He poked in a tight held hand
And produced an outsize truss.
The neighbours we not pleased also,
He borrowed two white geese.
When they returned much later, 
They were wilderbeest.
He did some tricks with moody coins,
My head he tried to sever,
He hypnotised dear Folly,
And I fear now she is clever.
He cured Aunt Mary Jaffa,
Of her phobia of satsumas,
But she's woken up today with warts
And an affinity with pumas.
So Aunt Vom is back in the nick,
In two different cells.
She upset the magician,
So he cut her in half as well.
But the toads and I are fine,
And my hedge is now snow-free.
And, to boot, my chinnigan hair
Is thick as thick can be.
I feel much more attractive,
And went to sieze the day.
He is so bloody handsome,
But he failed to think my way.
Was it my straw extensions?
Or stubbly cheeks and brow?
Or could it be the necklace
I wear, of excrement of cow?
You may turn cloth to fire, But -
You've done it, Daddio,
Which is why I have your cards and tricks,
Cos you're under my patio.


Seriously, the warning that comes with this, is never bury a magician under your patio.  He popped up a week later and went 'Ta Daaaa!' and got crabby when I didn't clap.  I do hope you're all happy and well.  If you find that you're hibernating more than usual, or your skin is exra dry, or perhaps you've gone off lettuce, please get in touch with these lovely people http://www.tortoiseclub.org/contactus.php.
Sorry, I couldn't think of another way to include tortoisy things.  Blessings of impetigo and bath plugs.


  1. Bravo Auntie! and welcome back - it is so good to hear from you again.

  2. Yes, dear old thing, we were worried about you here as well. So much so that my eldest, whose name is on the tip of my tongue, said "Wo'evva!" Special thanks for the impetigo blessings: it's been a while since you-know-what, and I was beginning to wonder. x

  3. Could you please send the outsize truss pronto, as mama is in dire need. (C.O.D. naturally)
    Bad luck on the play-making with the ol' Magico, MAB; perhaps have a go at the wart-faced vagrant under the hedge. I think he might be willing!

    Too bad your fella popped up from under the patio; I thought you might give Lynda LaPlante a bell, and have her resurrect Jane Tennison for another Prime Suspect. Of course, you'd be in like Flynn, with the residuals!

    It made my day to see your smiling, er hirsute face again,