“Where is it? quick me Valentine, quick, quick, got to find it! I know it somewhere.”
Said Doris duck.
She searched high and low in the stream,
for a Valentine to fulfill her dreams.
Shook her tail and waddled far and wide
Until no place was left for it to hide.
What it looked like she didn’t care,
She wanted one from anywhere.
That Valentine she’d heard about,
It made big people flounce and pout.
Alas she was deemed to fail
For Valintines had no tale…
He had no beak for her to peck
And he had the shortest neck.
So to the pond she waddled fast
With her sibblings, home at last.
Munching worms with her Drake,
Fluffing their tails out on the lake.
Was your true love under your nose?
Did you look to hard but failled to see what was next to you?
Or just maybe you couldn’t give a diddly doo dah… let me know leave a word… try and keep it somewhat clean ;)😇
This link takes you to the Valentines party join in it’s for the whole weekend!
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Just the other day it hit me, I can not compete let alone compute with the “selfie” brigade. Each time I look, a new one is posted, a pout, a bat of an eye, a sideways, forward leaning, hide the wrinkles, suck in the chin type of one *Gasp*.
So today, I changed my gravitar to what my husband calls the bag lady selfie, strictly speaking he took it so it probably doesn’t qualify as a Kim Kardashian style Selfie at all. But no one in their right mind would want a photograph of themselves looking (as my Dad god rest him would have said) ‘like a bugger’… would they?
A freezing wind was blowing across the small town of Dinard on this day in March. The rain had been shooting sideways and found it’s way under my eyelids; it was cold. Just before the photo shoot… We were in an open topped car looking for a super march`e. I was being facetious about driving around in the cold and possibly dying in the attempt to purchase the gubbins required to make an impromptu picnic lunch; so added layer upon layer of clothing while we went along, still maintaining my temperature to be around the nose dropping off frostbite levels. Eventually we spotted a small store with a flickering light on the sqeaking sign. I lept from the car in haste, forgetting or not caring how I looked and entered. Our shed at home would be bigger than the store, but I managed to find ham, pat`e, bread, wine and grapes, as you would in France. After packing my bag I stood by a lamppost waiting to be picked up. Around and around the fountain he drove taking photo’s, while he grinned and waved, but the crosser I got the more he drove around.
“Click” job done, the cross patch baglady was born. Now I pop it on my gravitar to say,” Hey” so what, it’s me in my ordinariness; if anyone thinks the word “ordinary” is the correct terminology for a loon.
Have you an anti selfie? Is your other half holding it hostage dangling it as a threat? If so why care, just put it up, we can call it “Anti Selfie Day”.
Incase you’re wondering… The only place the photo described is left, is on my gravitar here, a virus wiped out a huge amount of pictures on John’s computer and as yet I haven’t found a way to retrieve it.
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It began with the very best of intentions And this time the picture is mine. In fact the picture is me. Caught in the act of not writing, or tweeting or composing. “Snap gotcha” he said and grinned from ear to ear. Sometimes with all the best will in the world… Words escape TRUTH.