Tuesday, 13 October 2009

Aerial Blitz.

Our daughter Hazel has two poodles, we have them when
Laurie and Hazel go on holiday. Charlie is ten years old and black,
Boris (Dogson) is one, blond and nutty.Their last stay with us turned
out to be very traumatic.

Aerial War.

The dogs came on Saturday to stay with us,
We didn't know their visit would cause such a fuss.
Charlie is ten and mostly sedate,
Boris torments him but is quite a good mate.
The first few days were good and we had lots of fun,
Chasing Boris round the garden to give him a run.
He takes off up the steps just like a plane,
Then round the garden twice and he flies back again.

Bees had been swarming in our dining room roof,
We were told they wouldn't hurt us but we hadn't any proof.
Then wasps attacked the bees to get at their honey
We felt so sorry for them it just wasn 't funny.
We had dying bees indoors crawling all about
I got stung on my foot and it really made me shout.
Then for three afternoons on the best days of the year
The swarmed fighting in the garden, what a terrible scare.

Boris was stung twice when he went out for a wee,
He hopped around crying it was horrid to see.
So then every time the dogs had to go out,
Pete put them on their leads to walk them about.
He phoned the man from the council and made it quite clear,
Wasps and bees must both go, we are living in fear.
He,s allergic to wasp stings they make him so sick
So we would be glad if he,d be very quick.

So the nice chap came out, he can kill any pest,
He did what he had to it was for the best.
They don't like killing bees we can understand why,
But with their honey all stolen they would probably die.
So peace reigned at last and we all could go out,
Boris played with his toys and dashed all about.
It didn't last long,the weather turned bad,
Those three days of sunshine were the best we had had.

Jill West.

Wednesday, 12 August 2009


With all the slimming programes arround at the moment
on T.V.I had a look in the mirror and came up with this poem.


Lots of women hate their bodies they seem to them too fat,
They want to look like slender sylphs, big busts are now old hat.
Some say "I'm an apple shape that tummies such a no,
I must loose weight off my hips, that fat has got to go."
Others say " I'm pear shaped, my bottom is too large,
I know I should attend a gym but oh dear what they charge".
The thing about my figure is it doesn't fit the norm,
I'm not an apple or a pear I just don't conform.
I'm a POTATO shape with sticks for legs and arms,
But my lovely husband thinks I still have lots of charms.
So I'll just have to settle that my shape is rather odd,
It's been like that a long time now so I'll just accept my bod.

Jill West.

P.S.I believe there is also one called the toffee shape
but I don't know what that is.

Wednesday, 6 May 2009

Baby Love.

When a baby's born your heart lights up with joy,
If it's a darling daughter or a bouncing baby boy.
So much advice is thrown at you, do that or don't do this,
However much you love them babies aren't all bliss.

The biggest question that comes up is bottle or the breast.
However well informed you are you don't know which is best.
There is a fact you cannot change and it's not to do with health,
A calm and peace comes over you when you feed the child yourself.

It's such a lovely happy thing that cuddle full of love,
The super satisfaction that trancends all else above.
To watch your child thriving there and it may seem a quirk,
But when you're looking down you think, that's all my own work.

Jill West.

Wednesday, 15 April 2009

Why Can't I Retire.

Men say they look forward to retirement,
To relax and generally potter,
Spend an hour or two in the garden
Then down the pub they might totter.

Perhaps start to read War and Peace,
No time to do it before.
But it's just an excuse to nod off,
War and Peace is a terrible bore

Maybe start on those shelves soon,
They've been put off for to long.
But a woman dreads the event,
Something is sure to go wrong.

About twelve o'clock he will say
"What's for lunch, something I can do"?
He knows you'll have done it already,
Because lunch is down to you.

It seems to be a fact of life
When men retire they really do,
A housewives work is never done
It's mostly DOWN TO YOU.

Jill West.

Friday, 13 February 2009


I recently went up Steart Hill to see how the dinosaurs were coping
in the snow. I thought I would keep you up to date with their goings on.

Snow on Steart Hill.

The snow came down and the dinosaurs came out,
Most didn't know what it was all about.
Remembering his damaged leg Big Dennis gave advice,
"Just remember how I suffered when I slipped upon the ice".

Sleds were quickly made up from logs and bits of wood,
Flashing down the hill at speed made small dinos feel good.
They closed the new school they recently constructed.
The teachers were promised no pay would be deducted.

So they all joined in and had great fun,Big Dennis came to see.
When the little ones got cold and wet they all went home for tea.
Dinosaurs live many years and cope with all the weather,
They adapt so quickly they're really rather clever.

Jill West.

If you scroll further down you can read the full story of the dinosaurs.

Tuesday, 13 January 2009

My Mojo's Gone Missing.

I have been rather ill recently and it has taken a while to recover.
This is a poem I wrote for our village monthly newsletter.

My Mojos Gone Missing.

I think I've lost my Mojo, a poem seems hard to write,
By the morning I've forgotten things I thought about at night.
I love to laugh at something, even at myself,
The gnome who's in our garage or his funny little elf.
The dinosaurs on Steart Hill, I know they're really there,
Maybe you don't believe in them but I've seen them really clear.
The things that they get up to are sure to make me laugh,
Maybe you just think I'm mad but we won't go down that path.
Nasty things have bounced upon me and made me rather low
But when I regain my Mojo the laughter's sure to flow.

Jill West.