Enlarged Bits Don’t Quite Do It For Me …

Good Morning

I have been indulging myself in sheer, unadulterated nostalgia for last thirty minutes. Why? Because I can. Does there need to be a deeper reason? I think not, my little poppets.

I have come to the conclusion  that you can and should take pleasure when and wherever you find it. And I do find pleasure in nostalgia. Not looking back at the past. I don’t mean that. I specifically mean, in this instance, music. I’ve been tootling on YouTube and came across Bobby Goldsboro singing Hello Summertime. I’ve put a link to my fb page at the bottom of this post so if you want to wallow with me click on it – it’ll cheer you up no end – guaranteed.

I find music massively uplifting – even sad songs. Sad songs take you to the crux of your problems. They top-up your misery levels and allow the tears to overflow. And doesn’t everyone feel better after a good sobbing session. I know I do. Not that sobbing sessions are my norm.

The weak link to this YouTube stuff is that I clicked on Honey by Bobbie Goldsboro – Oopps! Don’t go there. She died. He came home from work one day and the angels had taken her. Bloody inconsiderate of the angels I say. All the poor guy was left with was the memory of Honey and a flipping tree she’d previously planted. Bum deal I say. But  Hello Summertime is harmless – trust me. As if, hey? Haha.

I’ll be back to poor old Honey on one of my sad days. I doubt the angels will have returned her though?

Besides uplifting, soppy music, I have to admit to loving passionate people. And you can stop before you start. I know this erotica genre is flooding the book shelves but frankly it leaves me nonplussed. How many times can you get excited about an enlarged penis – if ever? No, I mean people with a passion. Doesn’t sound much better really, does it? OK. I’ll name-drop. People like Alan Titchmarsh. Stop laughing. I like Alan. At least I used to like him, a lot, when he was a gardener. Not so keen on his silly afternoon shows. His passion for the subject of gardening almost broke the TV screen. It was so full-on.

And dear Bill Oddie. Can’t say I rated him in The Goodies but then it wasn’t my thing and I never watched it … but his passion and blatant enthusiasm for nature and all things linked is unrivalled. These people just leave me breathless. I try not to envy anyone because envy isn’t a nice thing but I do come close to envying these ‘Oh so passionate ones.’

I have come across a few people in my lifetime who have exuded this passion. This energy. Funnily enough most of them have been Pisceans. Weird. Especially so as Richard is a Piscean and the only thing he exudes is … well, probably not best to go there. Perhaps, because I am the life-and-soul of the party and the chief instigator of all things he feels that he has no need to exude? Bless him. And I lie, slightly. I’m NOT always the life-and-soul of the party. In fact I turn down most invitations because I’m an anti-social git. I’d rather talk to my spotted laurel bush than some hammered tool.

I don’t know if I updated his ‘fans’ (Geoffrey!) on poor Richards shoulder problem but he had his ultra-scan and they have diagnosed calcification of the shoulder. The story continues …

Well, my little sunbeams, I’m off to chat with the cabbages and murder the first emerging slugs. If the Lord sees fit to grant me another day we can rendezvous here tomorrow?

Take care my lovelies x

 

Go listen to Bobby…    https://www.facebook.com/gail.orbell?ref=tn_tnmn