Dodie's Dream World - Complete Chaos! xxx AftrnoonDelight
DODIES DREAM WORLD - COMPLETE FANTASY
...........OR IS IT?
A BIT OF FUN FOR OLDER MARRIED COUPLES!
couple in their 60's are visited by a fairy who grants them both a
"I want to travel round the world with my darling husband" says wife.
Two tickets for a luxury cruise magically appear in her hand.
Husband says: "Sorry but my wish is to have a wife 30 years younger than
Fairy waves wand and husband becomes 92 ..........
Moral of story -
Men who are ungrateful bastards should remember fairies are female!!!
And now, whoever said History was boring ! ! !
"Dogs believe they are human. Cats believe they are God."
"There is no snooze button on a cat who wants breakfast."
"Thousands of years ago, cats were worshipped as gods. Cats have never forgotten this." --Anonymous
"Cats are smarter than dogs. You can't get eight cats to pull a sled through snow." --Jeff Valdez
"As every cat owner knows, nobody owns a cat." --Ellen Perry Berkeley
Good reading . . . .
Where did the saying Piss Poor come from?
They used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken & sold to the tannery..... ..if you had to do this to survive you were "Piss Poor."
But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn't even afford to buy a pot......they "didn't have a pot to piss in" & were the lowest of the low.
The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the 1500s: Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June.. However, since they were starting to smell . ..... . brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odour. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married. Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it.. Hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water!" Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof.... Hence the saying "It's raining cats and dogs." There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.
The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, "dirt poor." The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way. Hence: a thresh hold.
(Getting quite an education, aren't you?)
In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire.. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme: Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.
Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, "bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and chew the fat.
Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.
Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper crust.
Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake.
England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive... So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus,someone could be, saved by the bell or was considered a "dead ringer."
And that's the truth....Now, whoever said History was boring ! ! ! So . . . get out there and educate someone! ~~~ Share these facts with a friend
Dodies Dream World Brings to You
A Poem for Flame Forest.
Within the flame forest
Salamanders weave their golden spells,
Nets of words to catch unwary travellers,
Bequile them for a little while
With their tales of wonder,
Legends of the true and sacred fire
Nurtured in the World's old depths.
Creations of great antiquity,
Guardians of lore and mythology,
They only wish to share their knowledge-
But cognisant of Man's timid nature
Must perforce resort to magick,
Elder craft of woven fire,
To bind men in a trance awhile,
Hoping that once their fear pales
As freedom is restored,
Something of awe and beauty will still remain,
Footprints of gold in the autumn woods,
Leaves of flame drifting down within the mind,
Luminous residues of another space and time
Leaving filigree traceries of a faerie-kind.
Children of the flameforest,
I hear the gentle crackling sound
That is your mischievous laughter
And don't know whether to embrace you or flee.
I make the sign of the Devil's horns
And speak a furtive prayer to Hastur,
Looking back across my shoulder
To the gently burning woods...
The Wonderful Willowdown
AFTERNOON DELIGHT AND IS THIS A DELIGHT,
Yesterday I wrote out a beautiful poem by Almey St John Adcock, written before 1913 as this is the year my book was published. I always check to see if there is any information about the author and cricky did I get a wonderful surprise. Her name Almey St. John Adcock; the poem I put inCroeso - Wales, at http://diddilydeedot.zoomshare.com/36.html Here it is for you all to read again.
DAYBREAK IN JANUARY
I woke at half past six today and all outside was misty grey, As if it still were really night and just pretending to be light. I only just could see the lawn, and everything looked fast asleep; And then I saw a something creep across the garden soft and slow-- It was the shadow of the dawn! and as I watched and saw her pass, Her dress was trailing on the grass; She paused and seem to hesitate Then glided through the little gate - And then the cock began to crow. And when she'd gone as clear as clear I saw the trees and garden here, And sad brown earth where things will grow when Winter's dead, Mum told me so! I saw the tiny apple tree which Daddy's given all to me, I saw the house across the way; And as I looked at it I heard The twitter of a tiny bird, And so I knew that it was day.
But Almey St. John Adcock was so much more than this writer who wrote such beautiful words about the sunrise.
First there is his connection with music:-
The Dorothy Perkins rose [music] :
song / words by Almey St. John Adcock ;
music by Molly Carew
A full size copy of these wonderful bits of info can be found at ; http://nla.gov.au/nla.mus-vn4270949
Then we have Almey St. John Adcock the Author of Travel Books
The Charwoman and The Flower-Girl, illustrations from 'Wonderful
London' by Almey St.John Adcock, 1935 (b/w photo), English Photographer,
(20th century) / Private Collection / The Bridgeman Art Library
These are only very small pictures as you can see, but they do come from Allposters.co.uk their address is below
AllPosters.co.uk Some of the Sights That Liven London Streets,'Wonderful London'
by Almey St.John Adcock, 1935 - Photographic Print ...
Galloping Dick' by Almey St John Adcock
I also found this advert asking if anyone knew where they could get the full poem, Dick the Highwayman by Almey St. John Adcock I did find the following few answers at a forum but not the poem. Maybe someone out there knows of it and can help.
1. Dick the Highwayman - A hundred and twenty years ago across the heath clad heights | posted 06-Apr-10'
A hundred and twenty years ago across the heath clad heights galloping Dick the Highwayman came riding through the night while back where the roadway straggles twix Oxford and Wicham Vale his lordship cursed
That will have to do for now, it is time I was over in Dr. Diddily and the Dee Dot's, visiting Italy. Bye for now Dodie. xx
Dodies Dream World
(NOW I ASK YOU - IS THERE A WOMAN OUT THERE, ANYWHERE, WHO WOULDN'T ENJOY THIS STORY?)
Women are like phones: They like to be held, talked to, and touched often. But push the wrong button and your ass is disconnected!
Two women were playing golf. One teed off and watched in horror as her ball headed directly toward a foursome of men playing the next hole. The ball hit one of the men. He immediately clasped his hands together at his groin, fell to the ground and proceeded to roll around in agony. The woman rushed down to the man, and immediately began to apologize "Please allow me to help. I'm a Physical Therapist and I know I could relieve your pain if you'd allow me," she told him. "Oh, no, I'll be all right. I'll be fine in a few minutes," the man replied. He was in obvious agony, lying in the fetal position, still clasping his hands there at his groin. At her persistence, however, he finally allowed her to help. She gently took his hands away and laid them to the side, loosened his pants and put her hands inside.. She administered tender and artful massage for several long moments and asked, 'How does that feel'? "Feels great," he replied; "but I still think my thumb's broken!"
MORE OFDODIE'S AFTERNOON DELIGHT
Beautiful Mother with wonderful Friend
HOW TO BE A GRACIOUS BITCH
Jennifer's wedding day was fast approaching. Nothing could dampen her excitement - not even her parent's nasty divorce. Her mother had found the PERFECT dress to wear, and would be the best-dressed mother-of-the-bride ever! A week later, Jennifer was horrified to learn that her father's new, young wife had bought the exact same dress as her mother! Jennifer asked her father's new young wife to exchange it, but she refused. ''Absolutely not! I look like a million bucks in this dress, and I'm wearing it,'' she replied. Jennifer told her mother who graciously said, ''Never mind sweetheart. I'll get another dress. After all, it's your special day.'' A few days later, they went shopping, and did find another gorgeous dress for her mother. When they stopped for lunch, Jennifer asked her mother, ''Aren't you going to return the other dress? You really don't have another occasion where you could wear it." Her mother just smiled and replied, ''Of course I do, dear.....I'm wearing it to the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding.''
WICKED OR WHAT!
MORE OFDODIE'S AFTERNOON DELIGHT Share Peter brought me a bought me a few books today in a sale, one is called "Tales, Poem and Sketches" by Bret Harte (August 25, 1836 – May 6, 1902) The other was by Robert Herrick (baptized 24 August 1591 – buried 15 October 1674) Run for your shallops, gather your men, Scatter your boats on the lower bay."
Good cause for fear ! In the thick mid-day The hulk that lay by the rotting pier, Filled with the children in happy play, Parted its moorings and drifted clear-- Drifted clear beyond reach or call-- Thirteen children they were in all-- All adrift in the lower bay !
Said a hard-faced skipper, "God help us all ! She will not float till the turning tide !" Said his wife, "My darling will hear my call, Whether in sea or heaven she bide ;" And she lifted a quavering voice and high, Wild and strange as a sea-bird's cry, Till they shuddered and wondered at her side.
The fog drove down on each labouring crew, Veiled each from each and the sky and shore ; There was not a sound but the breath they drew, And the lap of water and creak of oar ; And they felt the breath of the downs, fresh blown O'er leagues of clover, and cold grey stone, But not from the lips that had gone before.
They come no more. But they tell the tale That when fogs are thick on the harbour reef The mackerel fishers shorten sail ; For the signal they know will bring relief : For the voices of children, still at play In a phantom hulk that drifts alway Through channels whose waters never fail.
It is but a foolish shipman's tale, A theme for a poet's idle page; But still, when the mists of doubt prevail, And we lie becalmed by the shores of Age, We hear from the misty troubled shore The voice of the children gone before, Drawing the soul to its anchorage.
"OH WOW, ISN'T THAT ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL AND TRAGIC, AND THEN BEAUTIFUL AND SAD. I THINK NEXT TIME I AM IN A HARBOUR I SHALL LISTEN FOR THE CHILDREN'S VOICES"
A FEW FAMOUS QUOTES FROM "BRET HARTE."
A bird in hand is a certainty. But a bird in the bush may sing. Never a lip is curved with pain that can't be kissed into smiles again. Never a tear bedims the eye that time and patience will not dry. The only sure thing about luck is that it will change. We begin to die as soon as we are born, and the end is linked to the beginning.
DODIE'S AFTERNOON DELIGHT
My little son, who looked from thoughtful eyes And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise Having my law the the seventh timme disobeyed, I struck him and dismissed, With hhard words and unkissed, His mother, who was patient, being dead. Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep, I visited his bed, But found him slumbering deep, With darkened eyelids, and their lasher yet From his late sobbing wet. And I , with moan Kissing away his tears, left others of my own ; For, on a table drawn besides his head, He had put within his reach, A box of counters and a red-veined stone, A piece of glass abraded by the beach, And six or seven shells, \\a bottle with bluebells, And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art, To comfort his sad heart. So when that night I prayed To God, I wept, and said: Ah ! when at last we lie with tranced breath, Not vexing You in death, And You rememberest of what toys We made our joys, How weakly understood Your great commanded good, Then, fatherly not less Than I whom you hast moulded from the clay, You will leave your wrath, and say,
"I will be sorry for their Childishness."
I had something similar happen to me once long, a very long time ago. My daughter Donna and myself had theis waking up and going to school off to a tee.... she didn't talk to me and I didn't talk to her. Well this particular morning we had somehow forgotten the rule and it ended up with us both getting irate and I then slapped her across the face. She was about 14 at the time and she slammed out of the door and went for the bus , for school. I went to work bt after 2 hours I was still so upset that I hit her I had to go home.
Home I went and baked cakes and biscuits, ironed all her clothes and even made a small attempt to tidy her room. And then I waited and waited until she came home. Such a fuss, I kissed her and cuddled her and piled sorry's on top of her, but guess what, she had forgotten all about it. But that was the first time in fourteen of her years than I have ever smacked her. It was horrible and even though I had, had the three boys before her and they had quite a few good slaps, I can never forget that morning with my beautiful daughter. We are the best of friends still even though she is now 37 and I am an Ancient One.
Such are the joys of motherhood.Dodie xxx
This ancient little verse was written by William Wordsworth as he sat on the beach in Calais, in the Autumn of 1802. The afternoon sun was fading and the evening clouds gathered around them as they walk together in sweet tranquility.
IT IS A BEAUTIFUL EVENING.
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration: the broad sun is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea : Listen ! the mighty being is awake, And does with his enernal motion make A sound like thunder - everlastingly. Dear child ! dear girl ! thou walkest with me here, If thou appear untouched by solomn thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine : Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year ; And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not.
I do love this little sonnet by Wordsworth. Most of his works were so terribly long and not really adaptable for a website such as this. I do have a few small books, as in, Elves and Icicles and of course the Peppercorn Green books with the Googlenok's but that's it.