www.davesbits.couk INTRODUCTION Poet Lauriat I’ll never become But composing this book has been such fun So don’t criticise my effort at rhyme Which over the years has taken much time. It’s a memory of me for you to browse To pass away your leisure hours! SPRING WALK I leave the house to start on my round And take the path along the Oat Ground, Passed the field where the children are playing Being pushed on the swings gently swaying. I take the lane down to Holy Well See the hawthorn buds beginning to swell. Primroses bloom on the banks down this lane, ‘Neath the hedges cut by machine again. Little birds searching for somewhere to nest Keep checking to see which side is best. Left passed the ponies asleep in the sun And the chickens are scratching in their run. The blackthorn’s in flower, winter’s not over yet I hope its rain and not snow that we get. I follow this lane which runs by the stream Note the leaves on the willow turning green. Under the tunnel of overgrown trees Where the catkins are swaying in the breeze. An old yew tree leans where vegetables grow And roses are pruned for their summer show. Under two huge poplars which come into view Spring flowers form a carpet of yellow and blue. The path crosses the stream and goes on beyond Where the breeze causes ripples upon a pond. The cattle in the field are chewing the cud The coot’s on her nest and ducks in the mud. I meet people with their dogs out for a walk I pull over, nod a greeting or stop and talk. I cross the stream, spend time to stand still And view the woods at the top of the hill. Sheep in the field where lambs can play Are a sure sign that spring is here to stay. I pass the chestnut with its roots in the stream Its flowers like candles and leaves bright green. I join Valley Road which forks to the right Soon the church tower comes into sight. Pretty painted cottages line the main road Followed by trees and grass neatly mowed. I pass the church with its porch and square tower And clock which strikes every quarter hour. Jackdaws squabble over nests in the trees Blossom attracts brimstones and bumble bees. I pass through the iron gates under the yew And stop by the wall to admire the view. The dog in the window chooses to lie But sits up to watch me as I pass by. Along the Cloud the main road draws near And round the corner the traffic I hear. Two blue sign posts show the way to take So Cotswold Way walkers don’t make a mistake. Shin Bone Alley is only a few feet wide A pink magnolia hangs over one side. I join the road which leads up to Knapp Green Beyond the beech pretty cottages are seen. Follow the road on and over the brow Worlds End Lane and I’m nearly home now. March 2019 PENTATHLON Anna and I left home at eight To Bath Uni. we must not be late. Watching Pentathlon, would be a long day To see her competing, we had to stay. To compete in the fencing she has to lunge At her opponent’s body with a tactical plunge. She dons heavy clothing which makes her perspire Before attaching herself to the floor by a wire. If she scores a light turns red or green Fourteen opponents have to be seen. Her sword tip is checked before each bout If it proves to be faulty she would be out. After a spectacular dive she sets a good pace Gliding through the water she’s third in the race. For the jumping she draws a small coloured horse Which rears then jumps her clear round the course. There’s no need to go at such a fast pace “Slow down”, says the judge “it’s not a race”. The boy has three down on that same horse When he comes to jump round the same course. Next she has to run round the track And pick up a gun when she gets back. Firing four times for points to gain As to get to the Olympics is her aim. SLOE GIN When the blackthorn winter takes its last bite The hedges are covered in a veil of white. All through the summer the branches turn green Till in the autumn the berries are seen. After a frost it’s time to start picking The purple berries all require pricking. Half fill a bottle, cover with sugar so sweet At this stage they are really not nice to eat. For a few weeks more you must patiently wait; Keep venting the bottle till nearer the date. When the sugar has melted you top with gin. After two more months strain through a muslin. The longer you keep it the more it will please; After a day in the field your joints it will ease. So from tiny white flower to blushing blue berry This delicious drink will make you quite merry. VISIT TO LONDON The day begins when the boys’ start to patter And the house is filled with loud baby chatter. It revives memories of their Dad’s early years But when one falls over the romp turns to tears. Strapped in a pushchair we go for a walk I show them things to help them talk. They started out with new socks and shoes Which they discard like litter when they choose. They must not sleep till I get them home Or Lindy will have cause to have a moan. They excitedly point to every passing Jeep “Daddy” they say, and fall fast asleep. “Please hold the fort” she cries flying out the door. So I give them their lunch and get food on the floor. They flick egg in my hair though I tried to please But forty minutes later I’m nearly on my knees. Playtime is pandemonium till you get them in the bath They race around the room and make each other laugh. At last it’s time to get them upstairs to bed “ You’re joking” says Mum “they’d rather play instead.” My nerves are revived by a strong glass of gin And I gradually return to the state I should be in. I wouldn’t have missed coming, it’s been such good fun To spend some time with the twins of my dear son. MY LIFE SHOWING DANDIES In my 30s I decided to take Mandy to Bath Show And discovered to my cost how little I did know We had not been to training so I began to take fright Made worse when the judge she decided to bite. In my 40’s came Teazle and we went to ring craft So at the shows we would not look so daft. When I lead her round the ring I felt extremely proud As she caught the judge’s eye and pleased the watching crowd. From Bournemouth to Bath and shows in between Every summer my campervan there could be seen. At all these different shows we spent a happy day Winning rosettes and trophies on the way. My friend and I went to many a show Now all that seems a long time ago. We would camp overnight for an early rise After careful grooming we might even win a prize. Exemption Shows had many different breeds With excellent food to satisfy our needs. Championship Shows had many grand marquees And lots of nice shops to buy anything we pleased. We would qualify for Crufts and leave in the snow But excitement ensured we just had to go. We never won that cup or trod the hallowed baize But came home with our prize in a happy daze. In my 50’s I had Bramble a little mustard girl She won Best Puppy which sent me in a whirl. With four cups and rosettes I set her on the table And enjoyed the magic moment as long as I was able. More rosettes followed and a reserve CC But to make her a Champion was just not to be. Then came Crumble who was apt to play the fool By sitting up and begging, not a well-known rule! In my 70’s I had Truffle who was no good in the ring; As I was getting older that was no bad thing. To kneel and present her was harder than you know So that was when I decided not to show. I would limp around the ring and hope to win a prize She was easily the best when seen through biased eyes. So when I bred my Toffee he had to have the chop So I could only watch or be content to shop. It was then I realized just how the breed had changed Their coats are much smarter and topknots more “arranged”. They crown their heads like puffballs as white as the snow Down a rabbit hole they surely must not go. Now we are in our eighties we hobbled in the door And were dismayed to see so few Dandies on the floor. INSTRUCTIONS ACCOMPANING THE TERRIBLE TRIO (One Labrador and two Dandie Dinmont Terriers) By Bramble - 1991 We’ve been washed and wormed and even de-flead, Our bags are packed with all we need. Our Mum’s going off to France to roam So we must also leave our home.