There once was a sweet, little Kitty, Who would sit around looking so pretty, But this act was a lie, He was really a Spy, No, you should not believe cats one bitty!
Cat, Undercover!
Author: Angela Jelf
Avid reader and asp. writer of stories for adults and children
The Baking Blunder!
The following limerick may or may not be based on real events!
There once was an unlucky baker, Who forgot to put flour in her cake-ah! "What a mess!" came her cries, When that cake did not rise, "Oh this cake is a big old mistake-a!"
Bath-Time
There once was a dog who did run, Through a sludgy, wet puddle for fun, But she soon ceased to laugh, When her dad shouted: "Bath!" Now her fun was all over and done!
A Month Without Rain…
We all thought the rain, Was a bit of a pain, Drumming on rooftop, And down window-pane. "This weather!" We grumbled, "Is always the same, It's nothing but rain, rain rain, Rain, rain, rain... Rain." "Go away rain!" We began to complain, "Get on your bike, Adios! Take a hike! Cos we've had it to here, With your damp, soggy drear, Just give us a break, Go away, disappear!" Then one July day, The rain went away, Just packed up its bags, Whilst the sun came to play. And the temperature soared, To heights never known, And the ponds and the rivers, Were as dry as a bone, And the sun grew so hot in the sky overhead, That the grass wasn't green, It was scorched brown instead. And we struggled to sleep, And we tossed and we turned, And the fields set on fire, And the forests they burned, And we suddenly realised, We now understood, Why when God made the rain, He declared "It is good!"
‘Grandad’s Island’
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide, Is a wild call and a clear call that cannot be denied, And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the seagulls crying! From the Poem, 'Sea Fever', by John Masefield
Our kids are fortunate enough to have a grandfather who lives on an Island. Going to visit him is always an exciting adventure that begins…with a trip on a car ferry!
THE ISLE OF WIGHT
The Isle of Wight is a diamond shaped Island, situated just four miles off the South Coast of England. It’s famous for its beautiful scenery and beaches, for boating events such as Cowes Week and for Osborne House, the historic holiday home to Queen Victoria.
There are several ways to get to the Isle of Wight. We use the Wightlink Ferry Service, from Portsmouth to Fishbourne, a 40-minute crossing. But there are other ferry routes from the mainland, namely Southampton to Cowes and Lymington to Yarmouth.
Cottage & garden
Grandad lives in a stone cottage, with the loveliest of gardens, not far from the villages of Nettlestone and Seaview.
Flowers abound!
The Isle of Wight, boasts a temperate maritime climate, with warm summers and cool to cold winters. The weather is rarely extreme and so things seem to grow like Billy-o! In fact, Henry Higgins might well have been correct when he taught Eliza Doolittle to say:
In Hertford, Hereford and Hampshire, hurricanes hardly happen!
From the 1965 Musical Film, ‘My Fair Lady’
Grandad’s garden in full bloom is quite a sight, with pots full of Geraniums, not to mention his Begonias, which I’m convinced could win prizes. As you can see, it’s also been a very good year for the Roses!
Seagrove Bay & seaview
Grandad’s cottage is a short walk, down a winding stony lane, from Seagrove Bay, a very special beach.
Seagrove Bay has somehow managed to move with the times, whilst retaining all of its old-fashioned charm. With a mix of Victorian houses and modern holiday cottages, the seafront has a very smart facade. A short walk around the next curve, and you reach Priory Bay – another lovely beach, with rocks to clamber over. When the tide goes out, it leaves the most gorgeous crop of sea-weedy rock-pools, which look like something out of an Enid Blyton Novel.
A short walk away from Seagrove Bay, is the lovely village of Seaview. It has a handful of charming shops, and eateries, including a pharmacy, a Deli, and an ice cream shop, plus a great pub, serving delicious home-cooked food, such as Fish and Chips and Prawn Linguine; the perfect spot to sit and sip a long, cold drink, whilst watching the boats bobbing about on the Solent.
I’m sure you’ll agree, Grandad lives in a very special place! The more years that pass by, the more our family have come to appreciate having a seaside home to escape to, especially in light of the recent pandemic, which has made travelling abroad more difficult.
I really hope that you’ve enjoyed this little tour around our home from home! I hope you can hear the surf and the Seagulls squawking and imagine the breeze tugging at your hair!
How very blessed we are to be able to enjoy this place!
Keep an eye out for future posts, featuring trips to Yarmouth, and Alum Bay.
The Poppy by the Gate
A moment to appreciate, The poppy by the garden gate, Not planted there by human hand, But blown in at the wind's command. As bright and pretty as can be, What joyful serendipity!
Swifts!
Plunging, Squealing, Tumbling, Wheeling, Swifts are flying, Death-Defying! Speeding through the skies, With skills that mesmerize. Screeching, Swooping, Loop-the-Looping, Pitching, Chasing, Roof-top-racing, A dizzying display, Get your tickets here today!
Risen!
Very early, Sunday morn, Grief rising up like a gathering storm, Day-break, Hearts ache, As the weight of it all begins to dawn. Thorns, nails, Mournful wails, Laid in a tomb that wasn't His own, Laden with spices, We make our way, Not even knowing who'll roll back the stone. Earth quake! Guards shake, Heavenly beings in dazzling white, Our hearts pound with fear, Afraid to draw near, We fall to the ground at this awesome sight. Don't fear! He isn't here. Why search for the living amongst the dead? Hurry, go! Let everyone know, That Jesus is risen, just as He said.
To Love A Labrador
To love a Labrador, And all the crazy joy she brings, There's really nothing to it: You must simply learn to love these things: Early starts, Morning barks Dripping hair Rainy parks, Six o'clock On the dot, Rain or shine, Ready or not! Muddy paws, Mopping Floors, Early morning tug-of-wars. Boggy paths, Soggy baths, Crazy capers, Belly laughs. Sloppy kisses, Slimy ball, Dodging, Chasing, Bad recall. Chasing squirrels, Magpies too - Any moving thing will do! Being followed EVERYWHERE, Stolen bits of underwear, Chewed up slippers Patchy lawn, Shredded flowers, Papers torn. Licky face, Tea-towel chase, Zoomy round-the-table-race! Piles of sticks By the door, (Did I mention mopping floor?) Belly rubs, And sofa cuddles, Getting dragged through, Muddy Puddles. Thumping tail, And big hellos, Throw a stick And off she goes!
Garden Song
An hour of toil in the garden, Is always time well-spent Tugging out those stubborn old weeds, Which year upon year won't relent. An hour spent tending the garden, Is never wasted time, Lungs full of wonderful sweet, Spring air, Hands caked in dirt and grime. It's hard to feel glum in the garden, With birds chirping high in the trees, Potting up Pansies, so cheery and bright, Hair tugged about by the breeze. Cutting the deadwood, turning the earth, Allowing the sun to shine through, Seems to clear my cluttered mind, And lifts my spirits too. Thank you dear Lord for my garden, Humble and small though it be, It's a place where so often I've felt You are near, And Your joy surrounding me. Once You knelt down in a garden, And in terrible anguish You cried, "Thy will, not Mine, be done O Lord!" Abandoned. Betrayed. Denied. One Sunday morn, in a garden, You rose up again from the grave, Bringing salvation and mercy and grace, To the ones You came to save!
Angela Jelf Writes... 