Me at Texas Instruments, Bedford, with Lady Soames (Winston Churchill"s daughter) looking down my microscope, circa 1960s. In the background Bill Hatty, with moustache and MD Dudley Saward.

Poppies at Tower of London

Another Elstow morning.

Early morning in Elstow village

THE RED POPPY (What it represents to me)

THE RED POPPY. (what it represents to me)

The red poppy is a symbol,
In memory of the dead.
Many killed in bloodiest battle,
For whom sad tears are shed.

The red poppy is a symbol,
Of their sacrifice, sublime.
They must never be forgotten,
Despite the march of time.

The red poppy is a symbol,
and remembrance is the core.
It conveys our deep respect,
not celebration of a war.

The red poppy is a symbol,
Of freedom, hope and peace.
Wear it with pride and hope,
One day, all war will cease.

Copyright   Ann Wilson

WEIRD GOINGS ON?

Something strange is happening on this blog of mine. Posts have been disappearing, about 4 or 5. I haven't deleted them and the titles are still there, which is very odd,.

Stranger than fiction, you could say,


 WATCH THIS SPACE,   In case it disappears!

WICKED WINTER! A poem by Ann Wilson

WICKED WINTER! (A poem from Winter's perspective)

I am the winter weather;
It's my delight, to freeze your nose.
I'll make you shake and shiver
and put chilblains on your toes!

I am the winter weather
and I'm not very nice.
I'll make you slip and slide about,
when I turn my snow to ice.

I am the winter weather;
I hope you'll sniff and sneeze.
A hacking cough and choking splutter,
as I spread my viral wheeze!

I am the winter weather;
Creeping up on you - I'm stealthy!
"Forgot your cod-liver oil? Ha ha!
 I'd rather you weren't healthy!"

I am the winter weather;
maybe you should stay indoors.
All cosy by your roaring fire,
safe from my evil claws!

      "HAPPY FREEZING!" 

Sunday Rambling.

We had a rent review last week and as expected it's gone up.  While the agent was here she asked if we had any problems that needed fixing, 

As it happens, the hot tap in the kitchen had seized up in the last few days, plus we have an ongoing damp problem in the bathroom, lobby and various other places in the house. She made a note that the malfunctioning tap was an emergency, as we are having to draw hot water from the bath tap to wash up!

A few days later we get a letter for the new tenancy agreement and a request for £60 admin for the deposit scheme and also a letter of complaint that our holly hedge needs trimming back. Paul does this on a regular basis and the hedge always looks neat and is causing NO obstruction to pedestrians. I gather all tenants have received this letter as some hedges are very overgrown on pathways further up the road.

The thing that annoys me is that there was no mention of them coming to fix the bloody tap etc, but they are quick enough to complain and send bill in. Will ring them tomorrow - Grrr!!

Rant over!  .

FRIGHT NIGHT. An acrostic Halloween poem by Ann Wilson

Fiendish ghouls are about tonight
Ready to give us a terrible fright.
Indoors, the pumpkins now glow in the dark
Ghostly echoes can be heard in the park.
Halloween night, is upon us once more.
Trick or treats given out by the score.


Now is the time for those witches to fly,
Into the darkness, on broomsticks, so high.
Ghastly cackles resound through the air,
Halloween is bound to give us a scare.
To venture outside, I don't think I dare!

Other Peoples' Blogs.

I've been messing about on here reading other people's blogs, well only the ones in English and find some of them hard to understand. I don't know whether the majority of the bloggers are "on something" but some appear to live in a world that is completely alien to me, fantasy worlds, parallel universes and such like. Obviously my mind isn't creative enough, even though I have written the odd fairy poem and a few short stories with a science fiction theme.  

I suspect that I am too English and too genetically down to earth and, heaven forbid, too boring!  I can only be myself though and what you see is what you get, to coin a well worn phrase.

Other blogs I've read are focused on religion and worship, bordering on the fanatical.  I try to avoid the subject, as I don't want to offend anybody, even though I'm perfectly entitled to my own views. I think of myself as a humanist, but may well change my mind when laying on my deathbed, hopefully it won't be too late then!.

I'm 72 now and the Grim Reaper is probably looking down his list of "hopefuls" but not focusing on me just yet, with a bit of luck!.

Then there are the ones who focus on the cute antics of their offspring and pets, nothing against either in moderation, before you ask!.  Others have divulged every aspect of their sex life, though more likely what they'd like it to be.

That last bit has reminded me, I must get round to writing my memoirs!.

SEPTEMBER THOUGHTS A poem by Ann Wilson

This poem is about my mother who sadly died when I was a teenager. We found out she was not going to live much longer in the Autumn of 1958.



Month of melancholy thoughts,
sad feelings are descending.
Leaves now tinged with gold,
Summer days are almost ending.

Summer days are almost ending
and thoughts of you remain.
Why did I treat you badly
when you suffered so much pain?

When you suffered so much pain,
how selfish I was then.
If time could just be halted;
I'd go back and start again.

I'd go back and start again,
Life's lesson I've been taught.
Time now for happy memories,
not such melancholy thought.

SEPTEMBER SONG An Acrostic poem by Ann Wilson

September, heralds in the fall

Ever to delight us all

Pears and apples from the trees

Tastes, that guarantee to please

Evening primrose scent the air

Midst dahlia blooms that are so fair

Before the frosts of Winter come

Ending Summers long, long run

Rejoice in golden Autumn sun.

Soon the gold of Autumn fades

Old season goes, a new invades

Now it's cooler, nights seem long

Goodbye, adieu, September song!

Town Bridge, Bedford

Sea Front Gardens in Clacton.

Dahlias

IT'S AUTUMN ONCE MORE. A poem by Ann Wilson

Cool and crisp is the air today,
Autumnal aromas on the breeze.
Shrubs of evergreen, all blending
with gold-flecked broad-leaf trees.

Berry-bright brown hedgerows,
a precious feast for birds to share.
Apples waiting to be harvested,
so tempting hanging there.

Cold spells will change the colours,
to Autumn glory unsurpassed.
Giving that display we love
and remember from the past.

Soon the grass will be a carpet
of russet, red and gold.
When trees shed lacy foliage,
as they have since days of old.

SEASONS OF LIFE A poem by Ann Wilson

SEASONS OF LIFE.




In the springtime
of my life.
Everything was fresh
and new.

In the summer
of my life.
I fell in love
with you.

In the autumn
of my life.
We went our
separate ways.

In the winter
of my life.
How I miss those
summer days.

Not a good day!

Today was not a good day.

It started fine, I got up, had a bath, breakfasted and put my glad rags on. Then I went for the bus, having arranged to meet my sister in town for a coffee, as we normally do most Saturdays.

When I arrived at the cafe, she wasn't there, running a bit late, nothing unusual though, as we both do occasionally. I ordered a latte and sat down. It duly arrived and I had a sip or two, but it was a bit hot, so I checked my mobile to see if my sis had sent a text.

That's when I noticed a private FB message from my next door neighbour Sue.  She said that my partner Paul had left his keys inside, so could I come home. So I left my lovely full latte and went to catch the bus home, but not before I sent my sis a text explaining what had happened.

 I felt a little annoyed with him, but not that stressed, but as I stood there I came over dizzy, ears ringing and I nearly passed out, I think I needed the loo badly which may have contributed!  I've had a few of these "funny turns" in the past, had various tests, but nothing found and they have been less frequent, but the one today was quite scary.

I may ring doc next week.

It turned out my sister had left her mobile at home so didn't get my message anyway and sat there waiting for me, though she had noticed the hardly touched latte and wondered who had left it!   

When I arrived home Paul had somehow nobbled the lock and got in the back door. Very burglar proof then!

What a day and a bit of a wasted journey to town, though I did manage to get to Wilkinsons to buy a new cake tin before it all kicked off, so to speak.  Big Deal !

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR! A short story by Ann Wilson

This story is unfinished, still in progress, any comments appreciated!  

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR!

Sometimes what you wish for isn't always the best thing for you, but of course, I had to learn this the hard way..

I had woken up after the long operation, feeling groggy, which was to be expected. The consultant had come to see me, explaining that the pancreatic cancer that had eventually raged through my whole body, was gone and that I was a new woman, completely cured. Apparently I was a PHENOMENON!

After a few days I started to feel better and felt quite ecstatic. I could start living again as I was only forty and raring to go! The doctors had warned me that it would be difficult for me, given the circumstances, but I wasn't really listening,

They insisted I see the “shrink” and I reluctantly agreed. She explained the situation, but I was on such a high, it didn't sink in at all.

"“Look"  I said “" I just want to see my kids"

“"Well, they're not exactly kids now, are they Mrs Danson, you must realize this?"

Her words at the time just went over the top of my head; as I said, I was on a high and nothing at that time could change my mood.

The docs had warned me that the press would be clamouring for my story and this could be a real problem for me and the family. I just brushed their concerns aside at the time, thinking I could cope with anything. I felt so well, I was invincible!

After a few days the decision was made to let me see my kids. My consultant Mr De Sousa, had given the go-ahead after much deliberation with his other colleagues.

The two elderly gents, probably in their seventies, I reckoned, stood by my bed staring at me. At the time I was sitting in one of the chairs. I thought they looked a bit freaked out and with good reason. I was too.

These were my sons.

I was the only survivor in the cryogenic ward Nobody else had survived the operations. It was my choice at the time to be part of this experiment. I had lain frozen for over 60 years until they had found a cure for the awful type of cancer that I had suffered from. Apparently I had grandchildren older than myself. It's very hard to get your head around this sort of information. I'm regarded by most people as a freak, a Frankenstein's monster!

"My boys" could not cope with it, so I don't see them. I don't blame them.  I've never met my grandchildren. I'm told they don't want to know, as it would be too hard for them and probably make them go crazy, A grandmother younger than themselves is hard to take!

I've had to change my name and move abroad to try and start a new life, as the constant hounding by the press was driving me mad. I feel so let down and rejected.

I wish I could turn back the clock. Living like this, in this strange unfamiliar world, is absolute hell, with its high tech gadgets that I can't get my head around. 

It's so hard to make new friends when you have to invent a whole new past.

Be careful what you wish for!

. .

LIMERICK by Ann Wilson

I knew a snobby woman called Dinah
who was cultured and couldn't be finer.
But she lost all her dosh,
and now she's not posh.
she's a waitress who works in a diner!



No offence to diners, Dinah's or waitresses everywhere, it just rhymes!

LIMERICK by Ann Wilson

I knew of a young girl called Doris

who had a twin brother named Maurice.

She dumped all her dresses,

cut off her long tresses.

Now it's hard to tell Doris from Maurice!

LIMERICK by Ann Wilson

There was a young lady from Dover
who romped with her man in the clover.
She had feasted on prunes,
so great were the fumes
when she blew off, the romance was over!

LIMERICK by Ann Wilson

There was an old lady with gout,
who scoffed lots of prunes with some stout.
She felt rather ill, despite taking a pill.
Now she knows what goes in, must come out!

LIMERICK by Ann Wilson

There once was a lady from Ealing,
who noticed the paintwork was peeling.
But she tripped on the mat
and splattered her cat,
With the paint that was meant for the ceiling!

At Buckingham Palace. Random snapshot!

State Rooms tour and London Trip.

We left Bedford yesterday about 9 45am and arrived in London about an hour later, then got the underground to Green Park.  When we arrived it was the changing of the guard, but I didn't see much and couldn't take any snaps as it was too crowded with people pushing and shoving. Mostly foreign tourists taking pics with smartphones, tablets etc.  I don't like crowds very much and we did get jostled around somewhat. The police were constantly telling people to move on,  We managed to fight our way through the crowds to the entrance to the state rooms eventually.

The first thing was the security, much like an airport I expect where our bags were checked and we walked through an xray thing, glad my knee implants didn't set it off!

The rooms were spectacular I have to say and it was fascinating to see paintings by the likes of Rembrandt and Rubens so close up. I glanced up at the many beautiful crystal chandeliers, especially one huge one and couldn't help thinking of Del Boy and co!!

The staff were all very friendly and helpful, many of them youngsters; it must be a great experience working there, albeit temporarily for most, while the rooms are open to the public. We never made it to the garden tea rooms as it was packed, but went to the lovely gift shop, although a bit pricey, the gifts were of a nice quality, so big spender me, bought a souvenir guide and a fridge magnet.

After our visit we got the tube to Oxford Circus and went to Hamley's toy store, as promised, as my friends each took a granddaughter with them. I'd never been there, so it was an experience and a half, never seen so many assistants, all eager to relieve us of our money. The girls both chose a teddy bear to stuff, clothe and print out a birth certificate. Not cheap, but they seemed to be pleased with their identical bears, both newly christened "Snowy"

After that we walked, somewhat wearily, except the girls of course, to the famous M&M World sweet shop which is dedicated to all things M&M, very colourful and glaringly bright, with a multitude of eager young staff, once again.   It's hard to believe that there are 4 floors devoted to M&M sweet and memorabilia. A sign of the times I expect.

Totally shattered by then, we stumbled on a little more and practically fell into a Kentucky fried chicken outlet, but alas no tea sold there, so had to settle for a cold drink.

Then back to the tube station and off to good old St Pancras station, but not before I absentmindedly put my ticket in a non-functioning machine and had to get a nice young chap to release it. I felt such a twit!  It had been a lovely day but we were all glad to get the train home, as our feet were killing us. The two youngsters, needless to say, were still full of beans.

 Ah, brings back memories of carefree childhood days!      

Buckingham Palace..

I'm going to Buckingham Palace on Sunday to see the Queen, well, not exactly, but you never know, she may have heard I'm coming and put on a cream tea!

Seriously, I'm going with friends, on a tour of the State rooms, which I think will be interesting. We're getting the train Sunday morning and the tickets include travel on the underground and buses in London, so we can make a day of it. Paul will be home on dog sitting duties.

I love going to London, so much fascinating history and places to visit that are steeped in it. I'd love to spend at least a week there, but the cost of a decent hotel would probably be beyond my meagre finances.

Anyway, really looking forward to it and I'll give it my own review when I get back,,

 .

Me with my friend's daughter Nicki 1970s.

Me with my friend's daughter Nicki in the 1970s in Gt Yarmouth.

HOLIDAY BY THE SEA. by Ann Wilson

HOLIDAY BY THE SEA


I do love a holiday by the sea,
for me it's the only place to be.
When I was young, it was buckets and spades.
As I grew up, bikini, suntan and shades.

Off to the beach, we all would meander,
Hoping to find some beautiful amber,
But all we found was shells and stones
Lots of seaweed and old fish bones.

Then I married and my family grew,
We'd go on a day trip to the zoo.
But my favourite place just had to be.
In a caravan at Hemsby, by the sea.

Those days were happy, my kids were small.
It seemed we had no worries at all.
Trips on the broads, a windmill to climb
Simple pleasures to pass the time.

Now when I look back on those happy days
Life was so simple in many ways.
A little money went a long way.
and a knickerbocker glory made our day!

Rosie relaxing.

PRECIOUS TIME A poem by Ann Wilson

PRECIOUS TIME.


Each day is new
It's like no other.
It may rain
Just run for cover.

Each hour is new
Live for that time
No moment wasted
Live, sublime!

Each minute is new
Take time to smile
Forget your sadness
For a while.

Each second is new
I hear them ticking
Life choices here
Just for the picking.

THE DONKEY by G K Chesterton

This is not written by me I hasten to add, but it's one of my all time favourites by G K Chesterton.



THE DONKEY

When fishes flew and forests walked   

   And figs grew upon thorn,   

Some moment when the moon was blood   

   Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry

   And ears like errant wings,   

The devil’s walking parody   

   On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,

   Of ancient crooked will;

Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,   

   I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;

   One far fierce hour and sweet:   

There was a shout about my ears,

   And palms before my feet. 

BY G K CHESTERTON

.

GETTING OLDER! A poem of sorts by Ann Wilson

GETTING OLDER!




 

As I'm getting older,

my thirst for knowledge grows.

Why does the world keep turning

and who invented pantie-hose?

Things that never bothered me

are bothering me now.

Should I still be eating meat

if I feel sorry for the cow?

Global warming worries me

but doesn't stop me sleeping.

I keep trying to recycle things

but can't remember what's for keeping.

Obsessions with my body parts

take me over without warning.

My sluggish bowel and colon

feel the need for prunes each morning.

Keeping slim is such a chore

when you're a chocoholic.

Making love is cumbersome

if you're too fat to frolic!

When I go into a shop nowadays,

the staff look less than twelve.

Why is the thing you need the most

perched on the highest shelf?

I refuse to let my hair go grey,

and try to keep it blondish fair.

Fancy a tiger tattooed on each thigh

if only I would dare.

(and the pain of it could bear)

Maybe as the years go by,

I'm slightly batty and much bolder.

I'll have that tiger on each thigh

and a cub on either shoulder.

I could lounge in bed all day,

play rock music through the night

Go out without my knickers on.

Lose my teeth and look a fright.

But until then I'd better stay

'Mrs Dependable' and good.

Rather looking forward to old age

and not doing things I should!

MY FATHER a poem by Ann Wilson

My father, he was strict, like many fathers of his day,
I didn't always agree, with the things he had to say.
Though when I was much older, his words seemed very true.
And I tried to be the person that I know he'd want me to.

He taught me to be honest, never steal and not to lie.
Sometimes I rebelled and I know it made him cry.
Then when I was married and had a family of my own
He never lived to see my children grow and I felt so alone.

I will always miss him and wish we'd spoken a little more
But I know he'll always be the dad, I admire and still adore.
For he's right here in my heart, with my dearest mother too.
And I feel their presence guiding me in everything I do.


R.I.P Geoffrey T.G. Wilson 1913 - 1972

RAIN, GO AWAY!

RAIN, GO AWAY!

More rain is forecast, I've been told.

I'm feeling lousy, got a cold.

I'm coughing till my face is red.

Think I should be in my bed.

That is where I want to be,

With a lovely mug of tea.

I'm a native of this town.

It looks as if we all may drown!

Nanna says she wants an ark

Let's help her build it for a lark.

We must start, right now, today.

Before we all get washed away!

I suppose it's soggy everywhere

and Bedford town has had its share.

But enoughs, enough, where is the summer?

It looks as if its done a runner.

So if “You're from Bedford” hope and pray.

That sunny days are on their way.

SOGGY DAY BLUES. a poem of sorts by Ann Wilson

Another miserable, soggy day.
Typical Bank Holiday I have to say.
I've done more washing, now in the dryer,
Can't hang on line for me to admire!

I've tidied drawers and had a sort,
of unwanted clothes, that I once bought.
Some do not suit me, or don't fit.
Why did I buy them? Holy S..t!

To the charity shop, all must go,
Won't sell on eBay, that I know.
Too much hassle, postage dear.
Plus competition, with other gear.

No sun today, can't sit outdoors.
Time to do some household chores.
Brush the floor and hoover the dog,
Do some ironing, clean the bog.

Time to sit and have some tea
A slice of homemade cake, Yippee!
Watch some telly, look online.
Till 5pm, then time to dine.

Washing up is such a chore
But I've got Paul, that's what HE'S for!
Then more TV and a soap to view,
Same, old, same old, nothing new.

Then it's time to go to bed
Rest my weary aching head
Ate too much, tummy funny.
Let's hope tomorrow will be sunny. 






 

   

THE RIVER GREAT OUSE IN SUMMER A poem by Ann Wilson

A little poetic licence here to make it more interesting!!





Graceful willows line her bank,
branches drifting in the flow.

Regal swans glide softly by,
bright mallards come and go.

Silver ripples in the sunlight
mini whirlpools, crystal clear.

Fish, darting to the surface,
for a welcome morsel here.

Young lovers on the grass
throw in a crumb or two.

I smile, as I remember,
I did the same with you.

The little cafe by the river
still does a thriving trade.

Fresh cream teas and doughnuts
and cakes that are home made.

A rowing boat streaks past,
so powerful, yet serene.

Splash of oars on water,
a splendid summer scene.

Relaxing by the river,
a lovely place to be.

Sights and sounds on water,
simple pleasures and all free!

Joe

So sorry to hear my favourite singer Joe Longthorne has throat cancer. He has been through too much as it is , so I wish him well with his latest treatment.  You're a real trouper Joe xxx

LAMENT OF THE COMELY LASS. A poem by Ann Wilson

Behold, the dark night cometh
It bringeth silver shadows.
'Twas such a night,
when first we met,
In sweetest moonlit meadows.

Thou kissed my hand so gently,
what maiden could resist?
Thy touch was soft as gossamer,
on this first lover's tryst.

We lay amongst the daises
in dappled moonlight's glow.
My virgin modesty is lost,
'twas o'er eight months ago.

Heavy now, with child am I,
this gown doth hide my plight.
But thou hast left me all alone.
I am a sinner, in God's sight.

So flee I must, to bear my child,
To a convent, goeth I.
My first-born child, to see no more;
'Tis my fate now, ere I die.

THE PIANIST. A poem by Ann Wilson

This poem was written well before the smoking ban in pubs and bars etc!


I play for no one in particular
but I still play on and on.
Once I filled a massive theatre
but those halcyon days are gone.

In those days of glory
all the classics were my pride.
But I lost the gift I treasured
when you were taken from my side.

Without you here beside me
this great gift has all but faded.
Now I play in smoke-filled bars
and my thoughts are always jaded.

Now this hazy bar is empty
but still I choose to stay.
Whilst the phantoms of an audience
come out to here me play.

WOMAN IN RED. A poem by Ann Wilson

Why are you so sad
Pretty woman in red.
Your eyes stained with tears
Was it something he said?

Your head in your hands
Full of grief and despair.
Did he say he was leaving
That he didn't care?

You say life is pointless
If he's not with you.
But hold on my darling
Your dreams can come true.

You are still young
And you are worth more.
Sometimes the right man
Is worth waiting for.

I remember these words
That my mother said
When I was that girl
A pretty woman in red.

FOREVER FRIENDS. A poem by Ann Wilson

He sweetly scampers across my bed,
such a welcome visitor on my wall.
In so many nooks and crannies,
my friendly spider likes to crawl.

Sometimes I'll find him in my shoe,
or he'll be snuggling in my bath.
It's his way of saying "how do ya do?"
He makes me happy, makes me laugh.

He'll be lurking round the U-bend,
just as I sit down on my loo.
But as I said before, my friend,
he's only saying "how do ya do?"

This beautiful, hairy creature,
he just wants to share my home.
And with his extended family,
I know I'll never be alone.

So if you find a hairy spider

Please just let him be.

He'll catch those nasty, buzzing  flies 

And eat them for his tea!

PENSIONER'S RANT a poem by Ann Wilson

Yes, we're much older,
but we still have our sense.
We're not all senile,
with double incontinence.

We're not completely batty,
or going round the bend.
Or sit looking gloomy,
waiting for the end.

There's a multitude of things,
that we aspire to do.
Have ideals and ambitions,
just like the rest of you.

We're not all frail and feeble,
though well past our prime.
It's just inconvenient,
we can't halt time.

We're not all decrepit,
most of us don't smell.
We're not all deaf yet,
so please don't yell.

And don't you dare suggest,
we're devoid of passion.
'cause we've all lived and loved
and had more than our ration.

We don't moan continually
and hate all the young.
Even though we sometimes,
have to bite our tongue...

When we remember our youth,
that's now in the past
and wish the pace of life
was not so flipping fast.

We need a little tolerance
and we want your patience.
Don't want to be dismissed
as useless, old ancients.

A little more respect
would go a long way.
To quote another cliché;
it would make our day.

Getting older, we believe,
is not yet a crime.
Old age will come creeping,
to you all, in time.

SPRING TIME AGAIN an acrostic poem by Ann Wilson

Spring is coming, she's on her way,
Peeping crocuses will brighten the day.
Robins will sing their song anew.
In fields and in our gardens too.
Nights are lighter and mornings bright
Going soon is the dark early night.

Tulips and daffodils will soon be in flower
In pretty clumps of bright regal power.
My thoughts are full of hope this Spring
Each day to us all, some joy will bring.

As the days pass, I feel more alive
Given some sun, we all will thrive.
As the season fades, making way for the new
I wish lots of luck and good health to you.
Now and forever in all that you do!

SPRING MORNING, a poem by Ann Wilson

In the quiet of early morning

when the air is fresh and clean.

A magical day is dawning

now Spring has set the scene.

Fresh green buds are bursting

through the bareness of the trees.

Daffodils are gently nodding,

in the early morning breeze.

Yellow crocuses are peeping out

to greet the morning light.

Shy violets and pansies

try keeping out of sight.

As Springtime greets the Summer

and the freshness turns to heat.

How I miss the cool green mornings,

Spring season days are fleet.

Tablet saga!

I had to send the faulty tablet back as it only worked when it felt like it which wasn't often. They have replaced it with an upgrade, which seems to be fine, touch wood!

Tablet overdose!!!

I bought one of those tablets from eBay, a refurbished one and as I previously stated on my FB page,it wouldn't work, so I fiddled about with it and reset it and it worked for a while letting me download lots of apps. Now the bloody thing has decided it won't take anymore apps and says it's short on space although the settings tell me there is plenty, it really doesn't make sense.  I will send it back on Monday as I'm fed up with it, but I expect you do only get what you pay for!  At the moment it's rebooting itself which seems to take forever, but I don't hold out much hope that it will ever work properly.

 A lesson learned...

WAITING IN THE WINGS. A poem by Ann Wilson

Ready for the centre stage,
she's waiting in the wings.
Ready for the glory,
in the flowers that she brings.

Ready for the moment,
she can let her nature flow.
Ready for her debut,
that follows Winter's show.

Ready for a new start,
she gathers green together.
Ready to perform,
the drama of Spring weather.