You Dancing?

Last year, Ada and Caddoc were late for the ball at Willow Manor - possibly because it took them so long to get dressed.



This year, Trellissimo and Ada jumped the gun a month too soon, and tripped the light fantastic wearing the minimum of gear, as they sampled the delights of Paris.

Caddoc had suggested, for a change, that they dispensed with clothing all together, and adopted a more cherubic attitude to life.

He became engrossed for a while in the manufacture of wings, but discovered, too late, that Ada was allergic to both feathers and glue, with the result that she refused to wear anything but this for the 2012 bash at the Manor >>>>>>

The sight was so awesome, he retired to his shed, post haste, and hasn't been seen since...

The Trellis Tribe, however, would like to thank Tess for the invitation, as they realise their weekly shenanigans over the past year have probably tried the poor girl's patience to the limit, at times! You're a good sport, Tess. :)

Entente Cordiale

We went on a coach trip to Paris - that's Caddoc and Ada and me - we thought we could parler en français, but, eh bien! that was not to be. Peut être the natives, when talking, confused our sad, xenophobe ears as we floundered in incomprehension; their patois reduced us to tears! 
So we sought out un thé dansant café where très jolie musique was played and dames et messieurs in tight trousers their pulsating rhumbas displayed.

I offered to partner Ms Ada;  we abandoned all plans to converse, and took to the dance floor, gyrating, but events took a turn for the worse when, carried away with the rhythms, my elbow  knocked off Caddoc’s hat. Then along came a frenetic français who trod on his chapeau - KERSPLAT!
At this point friend Cad really lost it. He rose, and emitting a roar, he grasped the jeune homme by his collar and frog-marched the Frog through the door. (*)

The café fell silent.  The patrons first stared, then whispered and muttered till I (prudently) hid behind Ada,  in case a clenched fist should whirl by.
Le garçon cried out "He deserves it!" 
"Who, Caddoc?" 
"Non! Gaston,” said Cad. “That chap I just dumped on le trottoir. He strutted like he’s Jaques-le-Lad!”
"Steady on!" cried someone in English, in time with the fiddle and  bongo, which commenced with a popular chorus. You'd know it - "It Takes Three to Tango!"

And so after all we were fêted;  they toasted le tout Trellis tribe – but don’t believe all of cette histoire – just try to spot where I have lied!

(*) "La porte" would suit here, but it doesn't rhyme with "roar."  Suggestions anyone?


With apologies to Tess and Salvador Dali for this spot of Magpie Madness!

Busted!

Caddoc at his sculpture class
configured Mrs. Trellis,
but when he came rejoicing home
his wife said "What the hell is
this supposed to be?" Said Cad
"Why, dearest, it's your bust - "
"You leave my bust alone, I say!"
"No change there, then!" he cussed.
But, nothing daunted, Cad resumed
to chisel blocks of stone,
and very soon he brought a pair
of new art works back home
to adorn his window sills.

Now Trell and Ada stand in state-
one each side of his open grate!

Thanks for the prompt go to Tess at Mag 132, where Andrew Wyeth was the featured artist.

Sink Or Swim?

Detail from a painting by Adolphe Valette

Caddoc stood atop the wall like Humpty, poised before the fall. He watched the river waters flowing and as he watched his fear was growing, for mists and fog rolled from the sea and the river rose past six foot three - a depth that caused him great concern.  You will not be surprised to learn that Caddoc is but five foot seven, a gratis ticket straight to heaven were he to plunge into the spate to rescue Ada from her fate where barges bobbed, moored to the bank... it's no surprise that his heart sank as Ada broke the surface, frowning.  Her crumpled Caddoc watched her drowning - or so he thought.  But I declare! Upholstered Ada sports a pair of built-in, buoyant swimming aids,  denied to men but not to maids... They stop her sinking in the brine.  "Now pull me out, you daft Welsh swine!"

Thanks to Tess at the Mag 131 for inspiring this little fol-de-rol.

Fine Dining

It isn’t often Ada smiles, but when a famous painter asked her to pose, well, I suppose he could see,  it ain't her usual grumpy face – she smiling, sweet, and full of grace! Her glad rags, plus the ambience of gracious dining, make us glance at Ada in a different way - she’s looking rather posh today!  But what's this!  She seems to be dining alone. Is she waiting for Caddoc to come home?  Or does she plan to be indiscreet, after the sweet?

We may never know! Thanks go to The Mag 129, where Tess and John Singer Sargent prompted this petit morceau of je ne sais quoi!

Down, boy!

You can guess that she leads me a dogs life does Ada, the flower of my heart. How can I describe my dear Welsh wife? You know we are seldom apart...She calls, and I always come running, like the faithful Old Dog that I am. If it wasn't for all of our funning, I really would be in a jam, but laughter is always the spice in the mix, no matter how crazy the weather. So we bend, but don't break, in all the big storms that blow up when we are together. We share warm fronts and cold fronts in winter, chip ice from those harsh words at times, but we follow our hearts and unseemlier parts that lead us to sunnier climes!

Thanks to Mag #128, where Tess and Zelko Nedic set the scene,

The Way To Ada's Heart

Here's another slice of Trellis life, inspired by Tess at Willow Manor and her Jack Vittriano prompt.

"That Cad Trellis  is so late! He said he'd call for me at eight. But now it's going on for nine - I'll wring his red Welsh neck, the swine! Ada should not be kept waiting when we've but lately started dating and I've put on my best black dress my crumply Welshman to impress, and artfully messed with my hair to charm him in this lady's lair.

I hear the doorbell. Is that him? His chances sure are growing slim. He'll get a piece of Ada's mind, 'cos Ada's feeling quite unkind. He shouldn't keep me waiting hours . . "

(She opens the door)

"Oh, Caddoc dear! What lovely flowers - "

Ada Unawares

Trellissimo had his finger on the button!

"HeHe . . Ada doesn't know I snapped this, specially for Eric (Bubba) Alder."

P.S. Caddoc was heard to say" Getting nude would be too rude for Ada Trellis, look you! She is such a modest soul - except...  when Trell was on a roll with his secret snapping! I think it might be fair to say he caught fair Ada anyway - though certainly not napping!"

BUT 55 is not my age, said Ada!

However, to welcome G-Man back to the fold, there are exactly 55 words in my offering below...

“But Mrs. Jones' bonny maid! Ah!
Now she's my Beloved Ada . . . "

(words by one smart Doctor FTSE.)

Here’s my Ada – what a Tootsie!

And Jane and Margaret as well

were very curious, I could tell

to see Beloved in her glory,

just to finish off the story…

over on Trellis Fencing!

If none of this makes any sense to you at all - which is quite likely  -  click on the link and read the comments!

Then PLEASE will somebody tell me what has happened to Trellissimo?

Stop Press

If anybody is wondering what has happened to Ada and I, they can find out by clicking HERE. Sorry we didn't send you a postcard...

P.S. Have any of you seen Trellissimo? The police wish to question him, in regards to the discovery of this poor drowned lady...

Tess was a major witness at the scene, which was recorded for posterity by an artist friend of hers. Odilon Redon. Thanks to both of them, at Mag 124

Green Fingers?

As Caddoc is no stranger to the subject of gardening, I'm sure this week's Mag 120  from Tess met with his approval! It certainly set me thinking...

Image by Klaus Enrique Gerdes

Caddoc's little greenhouse and kitchen garden plot
get overloaded, summer time, with all the plants he's got
to flourish with his tender care -  once started, he can't stop!

Poor Ada has a problem with with finding room to freeze
all his fruit and veggies..."More rhubarb? Caddoc, please!"
The thought of all the cooking brings Ada to her knees.

There, in her busy kitchen, his Ada wails and grumbles.
"Does this mean I'll have to bake at least two dozen crumbles
to use it up? Will so much fruit make all our stomachs rumble?

And soon there will be strawberries and apples by the ton.
Will our culinary capers never all be done?"
But Caddoc merely smiles and says "Ada, you are a one!

You know you love fresh fruit and veg that I bring to the table.
You should thank your lucky stars that your Caddoc is able
to utilise his talents so, to produce his "Home Grown" label!

High Flying Swingers?

Ada and Caddoc, on enjoyment bent, went to the show in the circus Big Tent, but later that night, when they snuggled in bed, the strangest ideas lurked inside Caddoc's head.

"Ada my love, would you ever aspire to be one of those ladies who walk the high wire? Or maybe, to swing on flying trapeze would seem a more elegant act? It might please your thirst for adventure, to learn something new..."

But Ada was frosty. " What's up with you? Will you never learn to stop larking around? Can you see me enjoying life, far above ground level, flaunting my assets in stretchy pink tights and my mascara running because of the lights and the heat of the crowd; not to mention the fear that would make me perspire, I'm certain. Dear, dear! Without even trying, you're always a clown. Now shut up, or I'll gag you with the whole eiderdown!"

Another Trellis Tale written as a result of Circus Fever inspired by Tess and Marc Chagall, at Mag #118.

The Triumvirate

I think Gauguin might have turned in his grave, if he'd known about this re-construction of his painting, which Tess so ably chose for her Mag #117
 

Trell is lunching with Ada and Caddoc
on Colwyn Bay's finest boiled haddoc.
Said Trell "This is vile!
It smells like the piles 
that donkeys discharge in their paddoc."

To which a handy passer by was heard to mutter in reply:

" I have a hunch this sorry bunch
were hoping for a spot of lunch.
But oh my goodness gracious me
they must have been bananas!
There's Ada sandwiched in between
a right old pair of charmers…"

Where's Michael When You Need Him?

Thanks to my buddy Caddoc, two prompts were brought to my attention today, The Mag, with its photo by R A D Stainforth, and IGWRT with its Sunday Challenge to write a Florette. Here I attempt to kill two birds with one stone...

N.B. I hope you get the gist of  the reference in the title...

In summer, several years ago,

two certain people whom I know

once thought they’d hire a little boat

and have a jolly time afloat

                                            and learn to row.

Our Ada , as you may have guessed,

was less than suitably impressed

by Caddoc’s wielding of the oars,

and he, when blessed with no applause,

                                           got very stressed.

“Move over Caddoc, let me try.

I’m sure I’ll make our wee craft fly!”

and Ada bent her back and rowed.

“There you see, you useless toad!

                                       I’m far more spry.”

And truly, she had got the knack,

whizzed them upstream  -  but drifted back,

which gave her arms a chance to rest,

folded across her ample chest,

                                               a noble stack!

Caddoc, meanwhile, helped her steer –

“Now, left hand down a bit just here.

That’s it keep going! You’re so strong,

you make this small craft dash along.

                                      Well done my dear!”

“ How dare you, Caddoc, sing my praises

sitting there admiring daisies!”

But Caddoc merely grinned, the loon -

for, don’t we know, he’s the one whom

                                           nothing phases?

Red Shed Roof?!

Our artistic senses have been stimulated by Tess Kincaid this week. She featured a painting by Marc Chagall, entitled 'Red Roofs', which you can see in its full glory HERE 

As usual, the combined Trellis brainpower flipped, and 'red' became 'green' as they hummed along to the old, well known melody of 'Greensleeves'. Many apologies to Henry VIII, Chagall and Tess for the liberties we have taken.

Cad woke one morning and leapt out of bed
determined to paint the roof of his shed.
The ladder slipped and he fell on his head -
Now his gardening jacket has red sleeves.

Red shed-roofs are Caddoc's joy
Red shed-roofs are his delight,
but Ada has a heart of stone,
and scoffed at poor Caddoc's two red sleeves.

"Your laughter, dear, will break my heart!"
her Caddoc cried as he lay prostrate.
"We've always been a world apart,
but my heart is true to my lifelong mate."

Red shed-roofs are Caddoc's joy
Red shed-roofs are his delight,
but Ada’s heart remains like  stone,
as she  laughs at poor Caddoc's two red sleeves.

"I've aye been ready with hoe and spade
to grow the vegetables for your plate,
but for all the efforts I have made
you are still disdainful of your mate."

Red shed-roofs are Caddoc's joy
Red shed-roofs are his delight.
But he must enjoy them on his own
for Ada does not like his red sleeves.

   
“Fair Ada continues to give me grief,
yet still her scolding enraptures me,
I long for occasional light relief,
though I revel in my captivity.”

Red shed-roofs are Caddoc's joy
Red shed-roofs are his delight.
But Ada says”Leave me alone,
you bumbling Caddoc with red sleeves”.

“If I should strip myself to the buff,
hold both of my bare arms open wide
with no red sleeves to make you huff…
might that appeal to your softer side?”

Red shed-roofs are Caddoc's joy
Red shed-roofs are his delight.
So Ada agrees ” That’s more likely to please-,
you  look much better, Cad, without red sleeves”.

Ship Ahoy!

With thoughts of floating eggshells offered by Tess, came the chance to indulge in another off-beat escapade for our off-beat, Trellis trio. Many thanks and apologies go to her, the artist, and of course, Edward Lear!

 

Cad, Ada and Trell sallied forth one day,

in a beautiful egg-shell boat.
They'd a case full of whisky and Ada got frisky,
wrapped up in her fake fur coat.
Old Cad looked up to the stars above
and sang to a small banjo.
“O lovely Ada, O Ada my love,
you've a fabulous frontage you know,
you know,
you know.
You’ve a fabulous frontage you know."

Ada glowered at Cad which made him feel sad
“Give over and stop that talk,
or we’ll leave you behind and then you may find
it’s an awfully long way to walk!
From fair Colwyn Bay we’re sailing away

to a land where no Bong Tree grows!"

But there, looking good, Trellissimo stood

With a dreep at the end of his nose,
his nose,
his nose
with a dreep at the end of his nose.

"So, Trell,  are you willing to make cheesecake filling
from the moon, if we travel that far?"
Gallant Trell shook his head and off they all sped.
“Does anyone know where we are?"
(They dined on mints after multiple hints
that their whisky breath smelled too strong)
"Whisky chasers in pocket, we’ll fly like a rocket!
What intrepid explorers we are,
we are,
we are
what intrepid explores we are!”

Cool It!

Each time Ada lost her cool and made poor Caddoc feel a fool, his mind played rather nasty tricks. He never quite knew how to fix whatever grouse had led her mind to be vindictive. Could he find a way to lessen the effect of feeling like a duff reject?

At last, he hit upon a plan to boost his confidence. A man could haply face domestic strife from a nagging, angry wife, if he painted, in his head, her face with garish colours! Instead  of shivering sadly in his shoes, he found this ploy could let him choose how he’d dampen down her wrath - (like dousing chip pans with a cloth designed to  blanket flames… )

So the red of Ada’s ire, like those flames in chip pan fire, he  damped down to coolest blue – I like her better so – don’t you?

With thanks and acknowledgements to Tess and Sarolta Bàn, who feature in The Mag 107.

Look Before You Leap

"To think" mused Ada "I proposed to Cad. I thought that he was such a lovely lad. But I soon realised his garden shed was more attractive to him than our bed. I did not know he wore such gruesome hats. I did not understand we'd have such spats. Are you surprised my mouth quite soon turned down, that where there once were smiles there's now a frown? I HATE the way he scratches at his belly. I do not like my life in Abergele. Sometimes I think I ought to run away and find myself a flat in Colwyn Bay. Look out!  He's coming in. And oh . . my nose is telling me he's bringing me Leap Year roses! Do I misjudge him? Has he a kind heart? All the same, I wish that he'd not f**t so loudly when he's thinning seedlings... He tries to get round me with his wheedling words, which (he should know), I find absurd!
Especially when trumpeting’s all that I’ve heard!

Ella at IGWRT asked that we wrote about sounds we heard - but she probably never expected these... Haha! 

Shopaholic Versus Alcoholic?

Caddoc closed his calloused fist
upon a crumpled shopping list
and glared at stacked up tins of soup.
“Why am I always such a noop
who tries  unfailingly to follow
Ada’s law, though hard to swallow…
(unlike her cans of Campbell’s soup
made from chickens) Could I stoop
to crafty levels?
Be a wild, rebellious devil?
Buy the beer I’ve lately missed?
I’d promise I would not get p*****
by drinking all the tins at once.
I was never such a dunce
that I could not slake my thirst
without succumbing to the worst
fate that ever mankind knew-
intoxication from a brew
of hops and other heady potions
designed to give a fellow notions...”

But once back home Cad was surprised.
Things were not as he'd surmised.
His Ada said "I'm tired of tea.
You've something stronger there, I see.
So why don't we two share a tinfull?"
(More than that she'd think was sinful.)
They sat, drank, giggled at the telly,
the merriest pair in Abergele,
till Ada looked at Cad askance,
decided she would take a chance,
"You've fuelled my ardour with one can.
So get upstairs, you norty man!"

In her Mag 106, Tess has brought our attention to the delights of shopping for well known cans of soup...All of which caused Caddoc's and Ada's minds to wander...

On Yer Bike!

Our hapless pair set out in tandem one fine day, to ride at random. Of a sudden, Cad sees he’s alone. He stops and pulls out mobile phone.

"Is that the Coastguard?  Caddoc Trellis here. Ada's lost along the way, I fear! We set out for a cycle ride. She fell behind.      

I've hunted far and wide from Pentre Mawr and Pensarn, all the way along the coast from Rhyl to Colwyn Bay. I'm getting filled with vague alarm. It's not like my Ada. Has she fallen off her bike? Is she lying by the roadside in distress, her lycra cycling suit a muddy mess? 

Wait!  Sorry that I bothered you. Just found my Ada's in a phone booth, on the ground! I dare not say how little she is wearing! I need to know her reason for her baring all, in this psychedaelic phone booth's light… to anyone but me, a fearsome sight.

     
"Ada!  What do you think you’re doing here?"                             

"Could that be Caddoc's voice? He sounds quite near."       

"Ada, dearest!  THIS EDIFICE IS NOT A SUNBED! Have you, perchance, quite lost your head? I’ve long suspected you might be every bit as mad as me!!!"

Thanks once again to Tess, whose Mag 105 called forth this madness from the Trellis Tribe..

Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud!

Caddoc heard mud baths were good for the skin and wondered how he might persuade Ada in to sample the benefits, though she'd get mucky. 
I thought she'd say,   

"Cad, it's too yucky, ducky. How dare you suggest it? That one such as I, whose addiction to purity none can deny, should flounder about in a tub full of slime? That's tantamount to matrimonial crime!"
But Caddoc was tired of her protestations...
"I'm determined to remedy this situation. I’ll sully that image that's whiter than white, at least in her own eyes. I will give her a fright! I'll make a mud bath but top it with bubbles - cleaning  them up will be least of my troubles… Ada already makes me feel more than a tad useless and hopeless. It’s time I got mad!”
But when Ada lay daintily down in the bath She was a LONG way from having a laugh.  
“Help! What has happened? Someone get me out!”Came the heartrending sound of her piquant shout. 
“Trell to the rescue!” yelled I. Then with haste I hauled mudcaked Ada, now very red faced, onto the bathmat, trying not to stare as dollops of mud trickled down from her hair.

Then I gave her a blow dry, body and all and the mud formed a solid shell, waiting to fall, just like a plaster cast. That’s when I retired, and left  her to Caddoc. He was inspired. He baked her mud-mould and created ‘art’which he hung in the lobby. And that was the start of another new hobby for Mister C.T., the frustrated artist of this family!

This fol-de-rol was inspired by Tess Kinkaid's Magpie Tales #104, where you will find many more offerings.

Men Will Be Boy Racers.

Caddoc, deep in mid-life crisis, sought new outlets which was why his thinking turned to 4 by 4's. Freedom! Fresh air! Out of doors, with shed and Ada far behind, he could roam freely. He would find trackways wild across the hills. All North Wales out there for thrills. So he sent for information, planned trips to hilltop destinations. Mount Snowdon via the Horseshoe Pass. Who knows? Maybe he'd meet a lass stranded with her big-end shot. Then he'd soon show her age is not a bar to wielding jack and tools. "We wrinklies, we are no-one's fools. From Abergele to Porthmadoc I'll be known as Whizzwheels Caddoc!"

Said Ada, "Cad - your lamp grows dimmer. All you need's a four wheeled zimmer. No point in looking so forlorn. Now look you!  Practise on the lawn."

Trick Or Treat?

After being smitten with artistic dreams last year, you may remember Caddoc invested in some expensive equipment, (see HERE) but now... Caddoc's easel stood neglected...for painting wasn't as expected...

"Your daubs are random, they're a fright. They'd give real painters sleepless nights!" Ada dissed them, out of hand.
" They didn't turn out how I planned, but many oddball paintings sell  for millions, as you know full well." Disgruntled, Caddoc turned and fled back to the comfort of his shed, determined to produce a work that wouldn't send his wife berserk.

But after many fruitless hours, he chose to employ subtler powers. He bought a large Kandinsky print, (which left him absolutely skint) and pasted it onto a board. "That'll have my Ada floored. She'll think I've improved, overnight. She won't dare call this 'oeuvre' a fright!"

But Ada's taste was so not modern -

for she liked Titian's glorious auburn
haired and buxom models.
Caddoc's task would be no doddle...
 

And that is how events transpired. The outcome Caddoc so desired  was blown, when Ada, the Welsh Minxsy said "Why not just buy a real Kandinsky?"

Inspiration for this post is all down to Tess and Kandinsky, over at The Mag.

Year Of The Dragon

Ada was plagued by a nightmare. She thought she was tied to the bed and a horrible vision appeared in her mind - a dragon, all flaming and red...

"Oh, the flames are too near! I'll be roasted alive!" were the words on her lips as she woke,"Is my bottom on fire?  I'm certain it is - why, surely that smell is ...is...SMOKE?!

"When Caddoc and I had a night on the town, quaffing rice wine  by the flagon, I forgot my poor head...Now its dreams  have hit hard, I wish I had stayed on the waggon! "

"There there, beloved. Worry no more.That posh Chinese nosh was to blame - I'm sure by the morning all will be well." Caddoc's words sounded awfully lame.

But wait! On a sudden, SHE was the dragon. Caddoc soon would be quaking with fear, now wifey had morphed to a Welsh Dragon Ada, toasting the Chinese New Year!

(For more bare bottoms, see The Mag ...and this!)

But then, Caddoc Trellis sent a poem to me by email last night after reading my post (above). He asked me to keep it under wraps, which naturally is why I'm adding it as a tailpiece (so to speak.)

When I get in THAT position
only one thing's on my mind.
Is someone with a lighted match
creeping up behind
waiting for a fearsome blast
of noxious Winter Wind?**
An unkind way, I do declare
of burning off my botty hair!

**Must pronounce "Wind" as in Shakespeare's  "Oh blow thou wintry wind, thou art not so unkind as Man's ingratitude...  "

What do YOU see in the dark?

I have to thank several fellow bloggers** for the pictures they've posted in the past couple of days, as together they inspired a unique collage - like so - for which I shall be forever indebted to them...

When Caddoc's carrots came to light, two filled Ada with delight... they set her dreaming in a trice -
"Norty, Ada  - That's not nice!"
But, deary me, alas alack, those dreams kept coming back... and back...

"Ada! Restrain these nighttime habits ...or you and Cad will breed like rabbits!"

**From left to right, top to bottom, the bloggers in need of thanks are Friko (Fridge Soup) Doctor FTSE (Stop! This is getting very SILLY) and Tess (Magpie Tales). Why not visit them and say "Hi!" from me, Trellissimo?

Laughable?

Poetry Jam's request that we have a good laugh this week, reminded me of this video. Listen and look carefully, and you may spot a young Ada, both serious and laughing, as she mimics Brittania whilst the gentlemen serenade her...

Then you can sing along to the chorus with these alternative words...

Song For Ada

"Rock me, Mama like a waggon wheel,
rock me Mama any way you feel "-
I'm your Caddoc and sure, I'm real!
Oh Mama!
(plinka-plinka-plink-plink)

Dig my potatoes and trim my leeks -
be the perfect lady love that I seek.
You can pluck my banjo any day of the week
Oh Mama!
(winka-winka-wink-wink)

Let's forget the warring and call a truce-
trip the light fantastic 'til we both turn puce
and need to drink a gallon of orange juice.
Oh Mama!
(drinka-drinka-drink-drink)

And if you want to see/hear the original lyrics for comparison, here they are!

Times Change

Once the word 'café' suggested good food -
a meal or a snack which would match with your mood -
or your poor rumbling tummy. You’d hear it complain
to remind you, you really should fill it again!
Now 'internet cafés', those new fangled fashions,
tempt customers who'll be left short of food rations!

The menus of yesteryear offered you toast
or whatever fast food you might fancy the most.
You chose from eggs, bacon, beans, coffee and ham.
Now menus show "copy", "paste" "select"-
And "SPAM"!

Thanks to the illustration by George Tooker which Tess used on her Magpie Tales #94 this week, it set The Trellis Household thinking, and they combined to come up with the above 'comic strip' (?) in picture and words.

Red Couch

"Why look you pensive, dearest Cad? Has something I said made you sad?"
"No Beloved. There's no telling the mysteries of English spelling."
"What a way to start the morning! Usually you lie there yawning."
Cad retorted "Think of couch. Note the word's a rhyme for Ouch."
Ada gave a little groan. "Cad's world is for Cad alone."
"But," said Cad, "It grieves me much, that couch is not a rhyme for touch."
 "Now you're talking, dearest Cad!  Couch and touch don't sound too bad.
Forget about the imperfect rhyme. Ada thinks it's couching time!"

When Ada and Caddoc embarked  on their latest discussion, sparked by this week's Magpie Tales,  no doubt this picture is not quite what they were envisioning, However, they didn't bank on Trellissimo's Think Tank Brain Box, did they? He had other ideas!

This detail is from  a photograph by Christine Donnier-Valentin, which the lovely Tess featured in her post #93.

Kiss

There is a picture on Magpie Tales this week, of two very famous people sharing a kiss, and it made me think of My Beloved.  I decided to write a poem on the subject, just for the Mag  - Ada would probably think I was barmy!

People say that it's love makes the world spin around,
Not sure about that, but I've always found
my Ada can certainly set me a-spinning!
With one little kiss she will know she is winning
whenever we find we are scrapping, or fighting,
SHE WINS hands down, with her kiss like forked lightening!

For it shivers my timbers and makes my toes curl -
by golly, she's something, my funny old girl.
On the surface she's grouchy - bit like a Marx brother
but deep down inside she's a soft-hearted lover.
So no matter how often we start with a dogfight
we can kiss and make up, and soon everything's alright!

Foot Traffic

This week, Tess at Magpie Tales focussed our attention on  the delights, or not, of cars and it set me thinking...

In the wilds of Abergele
we shun traffic fumes. Phew! Smelly!
The classic wellie boot prevails
as people's feet stomp round the town,
climb craggy hills, both up and down.
Clear, high peaks crown our kingdom, Wales.

And on Tuesday there was an explanation of a Welsh poetic form called Cywydd Llosgyrnog on Imaginary Garden. What a coincidence! So I've had a go at it here.