Bizarre British festivals: Gloucester cheese rolling

Hilarious and informative. Please check out notesfromtheuk.com.

Ellen Hawley's avatarNotes from the U.K.

What I won’t do in the interests of researching British culture.

Wild Thing and I just got back from the Gloucester Cheese Rolling and I hardly know what to say, except that humans are a very strange species. The Cheese Rolling works like this: The contestants line up at the top of an insanely steep hill. Someone starts a wheel of Gloucester cheese rolling down the hill. Then the contestants run after it. The first one to the finish line wins the cheese.

 Runners sliding down the hill. The camera’s at an angle and doesn’t do justice to how steep the hill is, but keep scrolling down.

Sounds simple. Did I mention that the hill is steep? Steep enough that before the race started I told Wild Thing I was going to see what was happening at the top. I got maybe ten yards uphill and thought, No I’m not. I was…

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Make it Stop!

Random melodies
Play leapfrog with each other
Vying for notice

  
Ear worm go away
My mind has had enough now
I’m going insane

Decoration Day Thoughts

I struggled to write something appropriate for this day. Nothing worthy came from my attempts. Then I found this piece by one of the talented writers I follow. Please take time to read this tribute to those who’ve died in service to our country. Also check out poesypluspolemics.com for more great poetry.

Paul F. Lenzi's avatarPoesy plus Polemics

Antique Note Card From vintageglorycards.com Antique Note Card
From vintageglorycards.com
(Originally posted here in May, 2014)
************************************

(I grew up knowing it as Decoration Day. Today it is called Memorial Day.)

(To America’s three million uniformed soldiers and sailors, flyers and marines, – dead, wounded and missing – the casualties of our seventy-five wars and armed clashes since the American Revolution)

gather my gratitude unto your graves
anoint your mean scars with my tears
feel my arms round your still homeless
ghosts I am here thanks to you with no
gifts but my words all my tribute exists
in compassion that weighs on my heart
you are sacrifice given to direst of duty
you answered the call with the courage
of flesh and blood placed in harm’s way
in defense of your flag faith and family
know I am your son holding dearly your
legacy filled with the freedom of grief

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How Inappropriate!

  
mountain grown coffee
served with double entendre
good to the last drop

  
some like it so hot
smooth and rich, yet strongly brewed
i could go for that

  
you’re my cup of tea
often naughty, sometimes nice
always intriguing

Studly and the Second Amendment

Trust me on this, I’m not going to get political in this post, it’s simply a summary of a conversation Studly Doright and I had this afternoon in regard to the Second Amendmendent to the United States Constitution. 

First, here’s that amendment:

“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”

Normally Studly and I don’t discuss gun issues. We own a couple of guns, but the only time we plan to carry them is when we go to the shooting range to learn which end to hold and which to point. 

In other words, we have no plans to run around carrying weapons of deadly force in public. Ours are for snake killng, period.

But there are a whole lot of folks in this country who advocate for open carry of firearms. This gives me the willies for a couple of reasons. 1) how do I know this gun toter is sane and 2) how do I know this gun toter is sane. I could add more reasons, but they’d look just like reasons 1and 2.

The simple answer is there’s no way to know for sure, but in Texas now police officers are not allowed to ask a gun toter if he or she has a permit to carry. That seems counterintuitive: There exists legislation requiring gun owners to have proof of licensing, but the officers who are sworn to uphold that law are not allowed to make sure it’s being followed.

This is where Studly comes into the conversation. I read an article about the new Texas law aloud to him, voicing my concern. 

“Well,” said he, “I really don’t see what the problem is as long as the person is obeying the law. Once they step outside the law then police officers can take action.” Then he topped this off with, “It is a second amendment right after all, “‘to keep and bear arms.'”

That always infuriates me when someone isolates that phrase from the amendment, but instead of getting pissed, I said, “Arrgh!!!” Okay, maybe I got a little pissed.

“What?” Studly asked. “That’s what it says, right?”

Patiently I read the entire amendment to him. To me it’s black and white. The well regulated militia is key to the whole argument. But Studly believes that the phrase “well regulated” has more to do with the registration and licensing than with an actual organized militia.

Sigh. This seems to be the cause of much misunderstanding. Not just in my home, but in the nation. I’m not comfortable with folks carrying guns in public. I know all the arguments for and against. I know the propaganda and the emotions involved. 

I just wish we could evolve past the Wild West mentality. 

 

Peace, people. 

Just Bummed Out

when life seems unfair
and no deed goes unpunished
don’t despair, just breathe.

 
bummed out again, friend?
discard all of those worries
just throw them away.

  

tell me your troubles
then leave them far behind you.
don’t wallow; just live.

 

innocence lost

it took just seconds;
innocence slipped through fingers
too quickly to catch.

  
why should she feel shame
while he walked away unscathed?
and no one intervened.

 
suffer the children
to come unto him, she read
did that include her?

 

I know this is a heavier topic than I usually cover, but we must start noticing and taking action against those who victimize our children. 

Shopping Online for Motorcycle Pants

Studly Doright and I are gearing up for our annual motorcycle trip scheduled for the 21st of June. We’re planning on trailering our bikes out to this year’s destination, Springdale, Arkansas, rather than riding them due to time constraints.

June is one of Studly’s busiest months at work, and not only do we have the bike trip in the works, but a Doright family reunion the week before. Poor guy is having trouble keeping his sanity while I can only act as his sexy support crew. It’s a tough job, but I’m well qualified.

I haven’t ridden my motorcycle in ages, and the last time I did so I remember being unable to zip my riding pants due to, well, accumulations of fatty tissue in the waist area. I tried the pants on a few minutes ago and found the gap between button and buttonhole even wider. Damn.

Apparently, though, Studly is in the same gravy boat, so here we are shopping online for riding pants that fit our expanded sillouhuettes. For him it’s easy. Men’s sizes are plentiful and assume that the wearer is going to be at least 5’8″. 

Women’s sizes are a different matter, though. Apparently someone hasn’t informed the motorcycle industry that woman come in all sizes; we are not all 5 feet, 2 inches weighing 100 lbs.  

I googled “women’s mesh motorcycle pants, tall.” Now I just want to know in what universe 31.5 inches is considered a tall inseam? Honestly?!  Finally I found a pair of riding pants that might fit, if I cut a couple of inches off of my legs. There’s nothing quite so appealing as a pair of motorcycle pants that strike mid-calf.

Motorcycle Superstore had a style I’ll try. My fingers are crossed that they’ll fit. stay tuned for a review. And maybe tears.

Not me.

Annual Planting

I’m contemplating a day trip to Floydada, Texas, soon. I haven’t visited the graves of my parents and grandparents in many years, and when I read this post from http://www.redswrap.wordpress.com I just knew it was speaking to me.

Jan Wilberg's avatarRed's Wrap

IMG_2370

It’s late at the Super 8.

There’s dirt under my fingernails even though I wore gloves.

I have one pink geranium I couldn’t make fit.

The urn for their flowers that I bought new last year was damaged by the winter.

My husband left four stones on my parents’ graves to show that we had been there.

I wiped down their headstone and that of my grandparents, wiped the old mown grass away with a rag.

In the late afternoon sunlight, both of the rose-colored stones shone just a little bit.

I would have sat there all afternoon, on that little hill admiring the trees, except we were in a hurry to go somewhere else.

I planted geraniums and petunias and plants I don’t know the names of until the urn was full and worthy of its job of showing the world that my parents had people who will show…

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Red Stapler

a photo of you
sits next to a red stapler
on top of my desk.

every morning
i touch my lips to your lips
captured under glass.

it’s a cold, spare kiss
no warmth exchanged in the act;
only memories.