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The Tastylia (Tadalafil) Order 20 MG Oxford Brookes Poetry Centre asked people recently to share their favourite poems today. As with all favourite and best-of lists I find it very hard to choose. What strikes with you in one circumstance may not be right in another.
This one, seemed apt for me though, even if it is perhaps better known these days as a song…
Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat
There’s a whisper down the line at 11.39
When the Night Mail’s ready to depart,
Saying ‘Skimble where is Skimble has he gone to hunt the thimble?
We must find him or the train can’t start.’
All the guards and all the porters and the stationmaster’s daughters
They are searching high and low,
Saying ‘Skimble where is Skimble for unless he’s very nimble
Then the Night Mail just can’t go.’
At 11.42 then the signal’s nearly due
And the passengers are frantic to a man—
Then Skimble will appear and he’ll saunter to the rear:
He’s been busy in the luggage van!
He gives one flash of his glass-green eyes
And the signal goes ‘All Clear!’
And we’re off at last for the northern part
Of the Northern Hemisphere!
You may say that by and large it is Skimble who’s in charge
Of the Sleeping Car Express.
From the driver and the guards to the bagmen playing cards
He will supervise them all, more or less.
Down the corridor he paces and examines all the faces
Of the travellers in the First and in the Third;
He establishes control by a regular patrol
And he’d know at once if anything occurred.
He will watch you without winking and he sees what you are thinking
And it’s certain that he doesn’t approve
Of hilarity and riot, so the folk are very quiet
When Skimble is about and on them ove.
You can play no pranks with Skimbleshanks!
He’s a Cat that cannot be ignored;
So nothing goes wrong on the Northern Mail
When Skimbleshanks is aboard.
Oh it’s very pleasant when you have found your little den
With your name written up on the door.
And the berth is very neat with a newly folded sheet
And there’s not a speck of dust on the floor.
There is every sort of light – you can make it dark or bright;
There’s a button that you turn to make a breeze.
There’s a funny little basin you’re supposed to wash your face in
And a crank to shut the window if you sneeze.
Then the guard looks in politely and will ask you very brightly
‘Do you like your morning tea weak or strong?’
But Skimble’s just behind him and was ready to remind him,
For Skimble won’t let anything go wrong.
And when you creep into your cosy berth
And pull up the counterpane,
You are bound to admit that it’s very nice
To know that you won’t be bothered by mice –
You can leave all that to the Railway Cat,
The Cat of the Railway Train!
In the middle of the night he is always fresh and bright;
Every now and then he has a cup of tea
With perhaps a drop of Scotch while he’s keeping on the watch,
Only stopping here and there to catch a flea.
You were fast asleep at Crewe and so you never knew
That he was walking up and down the station;
You were sleeping all the while he was busy at Carlisle,
Where he greets the stationmaster with elation.
But you saw him at Dumfries, where he summons the police
If there’s anything they ought to know about:
When you get to Gallowgate there you do not have to wait –
For Skimbleshanks will help you to get out!
He gives you a wave of his long brown tail
Which says: ‘I’ll see you again!
You’ll meet without fail on the Midnight Mail
The Cat of the Railway Train.’
Orlistat 120 mg buy online no prescription T S Elliot
You had that look in your eyes
and that purr that defined you.
You always knew what you wanted
and were very good at telling us.
You were loving
You couldn’t catch birds
and micickles; but you did manage worms.
You loved your cat nip
(sometimes too much).
Your randy raccoon made you happy
(but we won’t embarrass you by telling anyone)
You loved your mummy
more than anyone
but you like Thomas too.
I loved the way you would sit,
like a little old man,
leaning on the arm of my sofa with your arm under you.
If you could drive, it would be
an old, clapped out, sports car.
You had your eccentricities
and your funny ickle ways.
But its what made you you.
And that’s what made us love you
~ Further to last night’s late night developments, and the need to take Scooter to the vets for his eye operation, and the need to take Emma to the doctor for a checkup after last night, it seems sensible to phone in and check that its alright to work from home. It is, so I do.
~ During the course of the day I take in a parcel for the house across the way, and when they come round to collect it we discover that we have friendly neighbours. Emma talks to them a bit and through them, and their keeping of three large French lop-eared bunnies , we learn of the existence of Fringford Feeds when you can get a whole hay or bale of straw for under a fiver.
~ After I finish work foe day, we use the time going for a short drive to Fringford to stock up on hay, and coming home via Launton to go to the butchers, and then finally into work to collect Scooter. Scooter is now wearing a contact lens to protect his eye whilst it heals.
~ After the dangerously slippy roads of yesterday (with the dusting of snow we had), this morning was cold, damn cold. Apparently last night it got to -7ºC. Bbrrr… So today I went to work the shorter but slower way of straight down the A34, then (following the lead of Laura and Steve) on down the Banbury road into the centre of Oxford and straight through the middle. Controversial, but it seemed to work.
~ Had to squeeze in a visit to see Auntie Helen at the vets in the evening. The graze on Scooter’s eye had got worse and Emma has been on night’s this week so I had to take him. Part way through the consult Emma arrived on her way back from seeing Lily and her sister. Scooter needs to come back in tomorrow for an operation to remove a flap that has developed on the surface of the eye.
~ After a pleasant evening at band playing Christmas music I get home – after a short diversion through Chesterton because of a car accident on the A41 – to find Emma, far from getting ready for work, lying sprawled on the floor in front of the sofa having fainted with exhaustion – the night shift’s having caught up with her. There is no way that she can go to work tonight, having just fainted and so I have to phone up – and wake – the bosses to let them know.
Finally, after days of lowering gloom and greyness we saw the sun today! Or at least I did – aside from her weekly trip to the counselors this morning, Emma has taken a downward tumble into sickiness again and has spent much of the day either in bed, or on the sofa asleep and/or dozing. I spent some time in the fresh air of the garden this morning, cleaning out the bunnies and the chickens.
This afternoon we’ve tested the cats IQ – thanks to a book that Caroline gave Emma for her birthday.
binära optioner bot Quotiens Intelligentiae Felines
|Cat IQ Classification Chart|
|Total Test Score||Classification|
|140 and above||Genius|
The Christmas tree hasn’t been up five minutes and Nellie is already being naughty under the skirt!
I was woken at 5.30 this morning by the most sonorific dawn chorus – it was beautiful. And the day that followed it was the most perfect, gorgeous Spring day that one could imagine. Sadly it was also a day for working which was a bit of an annoyance but it was the most perfect reminder of the Spring that is to come. When I got home, the kids of the neighbours on the other side (ie. not Beavis’n’Butthead – who incidentally woke Emma up at 2.30 as they noisily left in two cars) were having a barbeque and party. From the moment I got home I knew that there was something funny up…
I sat in the garden for a bit and wrote a couple of pages to Mr Tumnal – a man who has curiously joined the ranks of the FaceBookers – before we pottered in the garden and had our dinner. By which time, all the cats except for Bella had come in and had their dinner. I tried callng but to no avail, and just before 9 o’clock I headed out for a preambulation around the estate in search of a missing cat. I found her, Bella, as bold as ever in her usual place in a bush out by the ringroad. I had to call Emma for backup and together we coaxed her home. I had hoped that she had lost the habit but it seems to be a Spring and Summer thing, and I fear that this might be only the first cat retrieval of the season.
I can’t help thinking that the hullabaloos, making the nacket that they were, were in part to blame for Bella getting scared and going off. B**st**ds!
I’ve only just got to bed and I’m not at all tired. This is thanks to a half-eleven moonlit stroll through the estate with Emma in search of Bella. We did find her, at the second pass of the bushes by the ringroad; miaowing as happy a larry. She was such a tart, leaping out of the bushes in a can’t catch me fashion and lying down and rolling in the road. She did follow, and trotted on at her own pace and her own route behind us to our home.
And that’s it. She’s in now for a month. She is so grounded.
It seems that little Bella Shepherd enjoys going off and exploring bushes but then once she goes so far, can’t remember how to get home. For the fifth time since May, I have had to go out and coax her out of some bush or other. I just wish that Bella would STOP IT with these all-nighters out on the town!
It never ceases to amuse me how fast cats can run in from the garden as soon as the faintest rustle of food is heard…