Flip Flops Secret

I picked up this book in a second hand book shop, I knew I had a rare find. Written by Molly Brett.

Born 1902 Died 1990.

She grew up in Surrey UK.

Her distinctive and innocent Style has enchanted children for a generation, with her beautiful drawn details. illustration and colour and captivating magical atmosphere.

Giving her little animals a human face.

It's my secret and I shan't tell you.

Now the other animals often 

laughed at that funny little frog,

because he was so slippery and had no soft fur coat,

He has no ears giggled the rabbits.

He can't sing songs twittered the birds,

He hasn't even a tail chuckled the Squirrel and 

not a single whisker tittered the mice.

This is just a wee taste of her talent and to her memory

One of my passions is to collect the inscriptions usually written on the first page, a well wish? a small endearment from the past? a small rhyming verse and many more,

unfortunately no words were left in this book, leaving it naked to the world, so sad, just a collection of pages, without that special feeling.

Well I will of course, place my message and date on the first page, when I send this book to my grand-sons Rupert and Monty.

So  "Night Night sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite and if they do just remember your grand-dad loves you".

Agman.

A Strange encounter ,

Australia
Victoria.
Gippsland

Spraying Blackberries 1968.


Plants designated as noxious weeds by the federal Government as dangerous to agriculture, are controlled and managed by state legislation !
which means! if they are warned to destroy the noxious plants, they get a months grace or they will call us in.

So here I am Flying at 1500 feet on my way  along the foothills with a load of blackberry spray on board, for a field on the side of a hill about 15 acres which if full of of over 20 years of wild growth.

The Farmer hasn't been heard of since the start of the second world war, rumour has it, he like so many other Aussie farmers who heard the call and went and gave their lives for their mother country" never to return.  "Men of Honour". "Queen and Country"!

The Cullercoats Lifeboat and crew.

 

This is a painting by a local Artist and Fisherman Michael Smith and depicts the launching of the Cullercoats life boat painted 1872.

The Lovely Nellie" ran aground off the Brier Dene in Whitley Bay,
on New years day 1861.
The Cullercoats and crew launched and rescued the crew, sadly the cabin boy was lost overboard.

The lifeboat crew were all volunteers, 152 years ago! makes you proud.

"Least we forget"

Agman.

Cry in the night

This verse also has no name signed to it,
just a scrap of paper with a Mothers feelings on it, telling us about her pain of pains, the loss of her child.
I took the liberty of calling it,


Cry in the Night.

In a baby castle just beyond my eye,
My baby plays with angel toys that money cannot buy,
Who am I  to wish him back into this world of strife,
No! play on my baby, you have eternal life.

At night when all is silent, and sleep forsakes my eyes,
I'll hear his tiny footsteps come running to my side.
His little hands caress me, so tenderly and sweet,
I'll breathe a prayer and close my eyes and embrace him in my sleep.

Now I have a treasure I rate above all other,
I have known true glory,
I am still his Mother.

Share this, from me to you, for I believe that a piece of writing,
has to be seen to exist.

Agman

Winter

This is another of those scraps of paper that seem to come my way.
It's unsigned, written in pencil, on what looks

like school paper

The only information I have at this time, is that it was wrote by a very young boy whilst at school.

Winter

No cars in the street,
No walking people,
No top of the steeple,
No flowing grass,
No hills to be seen,
No fun no joy for girl and boy,
No flower beds while making snow man heads,

Winter.

Didn't he do well?

Agman.

Road Tax

My Pond

Here's a verse from the past,
from a farmer to his local tax office. After losing his tax disc

Farmer;
Glenluce
Southwest Scotland





I dinna say am faultless,when exercising care,
On looking' at the screen ae day, the licence wisna there,
I needna mak' excuses,as tae how that cam tae pass,
so sen' me oot anither ane, an be a nice wee lass.

Reply from the Council.

Every morning, every night,
Check your screen and
keep things right.
If perchance your  "disc"
is slipping,
try a glue a bit more gripping.

Local Tax Officers compliments;

Thank you for the  first laugh of the day.
( didn't they do well?)

The above is one of hundreds! no thousands! of verses, poems, rhymes, that are one off classics from our past, laying in wait to be seen and can be! in the archives of our government offices, old libraries are also a good place for them to wait, hidden in books by their writers.
You will be introduced to a more compassionate time.

Oh how I wish... I could be, talented just like the rest of thee.

Agman.

The Cleaning Lady

Looking out my back window.

Scotland.

This is one of those verses that demonstrates the good natured banter that goes on between, the Bowling club and the cleaning lady.
The cleaning lady very graciously gave me this, What a star!

The cleaning Lady:
left this note before going on holiday.

I've washed down all your windows,
I've tidied up you mess.
When I come back I hope to see the place as clean,
or else !

I won't be washing up you cups or ringing out your bell,
instead I'll be putting my feet up and say "you can go to hell!"

So see you in a fortnight, enjoy the peace and quite and mark my words if there's a mess I'll cause a bloody riot!

 The Reply from the Bullin club:

Oh the clubs wee cleaner's awa
Irene she's ever sae braw,
with a duster and brush
she's a cleaner wi  pu'sh
Irene the toast o them a'.

Oh the clubs wee cleaner's awa
Irene, she's resting her jaw,
In her wee bathing suit
She's Just sitting aboot
wi' naethin' tae dae at a'.

There's puddocks loupin' in the sinks,
There's tea bags laying In the rinks,
Prentice Says the whole place stinks
Since Irene shot the crow.

The clock has stopped
The drains are chocked,
Tam Cummins says his been "nocked"
The club has gone to pot.

It's the roughest place you ever saw
whit they folk dae's against the law,
There's a crowd don't hiv' a maw or
paw,
And the cleaner's on the loose.

The flag's been hung half up the mast
folk haud their nose as they walk past,
A disaster area It's been classed
And the clappers oot the bell.

The Thursday mornin' crowd are bleetin
I've even seen, some stan'-in greetin
Their tea just doesna' seem to sweetin
Since Irene cut the stick.

What's to be done, no one can tell,
it seems the place is bound for hell.
She might come back if you ring her bell.

The Bullin Club

I had to copy this off of a couple of sheets of  old paper I struggled with the Scotty Bits,
But I think it was worth it , hope you enjoy it as much as I did.


Agaman.