Evidence of Fran's near-death experience
It's Saturday evening as I write. This time last week my body still comprised one-fifth woman and four-fifths pudding. I was so stiff with starch that I couldn't bend at the waist to take off my socks at bedtime. I felt as though all my internal organs had been re-upholstered. Despite all this, non, je ne regrette rien. I had gone with two friends to The Pudding Club. It was their 60th birthday treat to me and - well - what an experience! I'm aiming to go again on my 70th, 80th, 90th and 100th or should I ever tire of life as it could do what Dignitas does but with added custard. Have you heard of the Pudding Club? It was started by people who felt that the traditional British pudding should be saved from extinction and celebrated. Because of this, the evening is full of ceremony and ritual as guests make their way through seven puddings, all paraded in regally, applauded and cheered. Seven puddings? Yes, you heard correctly. Puddings are in the news. There's a
Are you calling Mark farty?
ReplyDeleteGlad you figured it out. Can't wait to see what you'll link to next.
My guess is the olive store.
Arty-farty is a compliment in England, Amanda. Translated, it means, 'I wish I was that clever. How annoying.'
ReplyDeleteI was there days ago, woman. What are you talking about?
ReplyDeleteSo now you've gone among the fartiliterati, have you?
I'm surprised Mark put up with lightweight like you.
Loved the poem, are there any more?
Hi Friko - yes, I know it's been there a few days but I thought I'd wait and see whether the comments were thats-a-nice-poem! comments or so-she-thinks-she's-a-poet? comments before posting the link. Is that paranoia? I think it might be. At least, all the voices I hear say it is.
ReplyDeleteFran
ReplyDeleteHave no fear, that was a nice poem. Congratulations on finding the missing link.
We call is artsy-fartsy here in America Fran.
ReplyDeleteFartsy...
I'm feeling a tad fartsy today. Not artsy. Just plain old fartsy.
Fran, you truly are amazing. In Texas we would never say arty-farty because the other cowboys would shun us, or take us to a brokeback mountain, one or the other. So I'll stick with 'amazing.'
ReplyDeleteI'm impressed! I've just figured on my i phone so I'm celebrating, too.
ReplyDeleteAnna May x
Thanks, Martin!
ReplyDeleteAmanda, what's an 's' between friends?
ReplyDeleteLesley - thanks. Please stick with 'amazing' - I'd hate to think of you being dragged off to a brokeback mountain. Does a mountain with a broke back go to an osteomountainpath?
ReplyDeleteAnna May - you and I are just playing around on the boundaries of technogenius, I can tell.
ReplyDeleteThat link is so cool I'm going to use it again and again...
ReplyDeleteI've said this before and I'll say it again.
ReplyDeleteLeave us not forget Petomaine, the original art farter.
Congratulations, Fran, on the creation of both an effective hyperlink and a very fine poem.
ReplyDeleteMark, I'm so proud of it! And it's all down to your wonderful tutelage. At least, I think that's the word I want. All of a sudden, it sounds like a big ballet skirt.
ReplyDeleteI swear I won't, Lane.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Stan. All I have to do now is learn how to operate my DVD player and I'll be sorted.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem. Love the mood shift from warm to cold; light to dark. Very effective. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Rachel. That's a really nice comment.
ReplyDelete