A story about a Bear in a Chair

The Bear is only about 10 inches in height by the way

Not a huge Monster Bear

But his chair is finished and he is a Happy Bear.

Once upon a time there was a Bear in a Chair

He/she was not just any Bear in a Chair

He/she was the ruler of the world

And a jolly good ruler he/she was too

The Bear in the Chair said that everyone must be nice to bears

And all the folk in the world cheered and were nice to bears

And then he/she said everyone in the world must be nice to everyone

And everyone in the World cheered and was nice to everyone

(This is quite obviously a fairy tale)

Then someone asked the wise bear what his/her name is

And the Bear in the Chair said. . . AH I can’t remember

Someone shouted Grizzly and the bear said. . . . No

Someone else shouted Vladimir and the Bear said. . . . No

Someone else said Aristotle and the bear said . . . . . No

Someone shouted Matilda and the bear said I can’t remember

Then the bear said

Hang on I have my name written on a piece of paper

Safely hidden away so that I cannot forget it

And the people of the world cheered and shouted

But what is it we need to know the name of the Bear in the Chair

And the bear said

Well this is answer to the Guess the Name of the Bear Competition

So I will not be allowed to tell anyone until after Saturday

When it will be revealed to the entire world

After the local village jumble sale

And the people of the world said

Well that’s not fair and spent the rest of time fighting and being rotten

You see folk are like that, the slightest thing and before you know it we are all at war

Well everyone except the Bear in the Chair

Who remains poised and dignified wondering who will guess the correct name?

And wondering why he/she has a slightly wonky chair.

Another day in the life of an ordinary old battered chap

It has been a busy-ish day I say ish because my old battered body just cant do the stuff it used to in the old days when I was a devil may care North Sea Tiger leaping from platform to ship to barge to rig and an assortment of things in-between. Right now I am waiting for some glue to harden up so I can carry on making a chair of a teddy bear to sit on that will be in pride of place on Saturday afternoon in the village hall as folk try the Guess the Name of the Bear competition. I am making Him/her a tall chair (comparatively) as this a village jumble sale so the poor little bear needs to be at a height where he will be seem and not lost in the chaos of Jumble. I am not sure what sort of jumble will be there but having volunteered to help I am somewhat apprehensive having seen previous jumble sales.  I don’t know about other places but round here the same stuff appears to go round in circles until folk get frightened to even turn up.

We have also managed to get to the Garden Centre in Shrewsbury where I bought two small Japanese Acer’s for £22.00 which I thought seemed a good deal. I have also managed to cut some of the grass in the back garden. . . OK it’s more a wild space than garden, but we have just over half an acre and I have never yet managed to get it all looking good at the same time. We also have a pair of pheasants nesting somewhere known to all here as Mr and Mrs Gandhi, we call all our pheasants Gandhi

OK I ran off there for a bit but I am back now

AH NO sorry I am off again I will be back in a bit.

OK back but much later

I have got a bit more done on the chair for the bear, eaten food, chilled a bi in front of the TV (as sitting behind it is silly) and I have shouted at the cats. I don’t know what they are on but the pair of them are driving me had (sorry mad, see what I mean) with their tactical battle over who can corner who in the corner.

OK that’s it that is a typical day in the life of me yet again. Exciting it is not, but on the bright side is was a lovely sunny day and I have seen more swallows and more Red Kites, we get a lot of Red Kites around here (the birds not the fabric flying device with string attached), 

The Strange case of Dr Bumble Beaman and Mr Hive

We all know the plight of the humble Bumble Bee as its numbers continue to drop across the Country due to changing climate and environmental pressures, and this is the background to the rather strange tale of Dr Bumble Beaman and Mr Hive. You see Dr Beaman was a keen bee keeper and decided that he would do experiments to develop a new super nectar so that his honey bees would be strong and flourish. He was an odd character and liked nothing more than to dress up as a bee and would often be (no pun intended) seen out among his hives talking to his honey bees. Dr Bumble Beaman was a quiet reclusive man and locked himself away for hours on end in his laboratory (the shed at the end of the garden) where we would mix and stir various flowers and sugars and ferment strange substances in order to produce his new super-food for bees.

Well time passed and folk sort of forgot about Dr Bumble Beaman’s experiments until one night when the full moon was at its height a group of local villagers saw a terrible apparition. It was a huge Vampire Bumble Bee that was running up and down the street buzzing loudly and biting the heads of flowers in the villager’s front gardens. Well at another time of year that might have been overlooked, but it was only a few days until the Britain in Bloom competition, and the Small village of Upper Dilly-Pickford (where they all lived) had won the best village prize for the last four years. And if it won this year it would receive a large silver cup and appear on Gardeners World and that nice Mr Monty Don would visit to present the cup.  

Well the very next morning the village Britain in Bloom committee met and thought they must do something in case the terrible monster bee returned. It was at this point that they all thought of Dr Bumble Beaman, after all if anyone knew what to do it would be him. So the mayor and the chairman of the village Britain in Bloom committee went to see him, but when they arrived at the house a dishevelled and sick looking Dr Beaman open the door refusing to let them in. He did however say he would look into it and investigate, although he kept twitching and making slight buzzing sounds which the mayor and the chairman of the village Britain in Bloom committee put down to a bit too much gin.

That night yet again the terrible huge Vampire Frankenstein Monster bee was seen attacking the roses of Mrs White at No 22 and then eating water lilies in the village pond before pushing Mr Brown’s prized pumpkin into the old horse trough. Enough is enough thought the village, and the next evening they lay in wait near the villages centre piece, a seagull and a goat made out of geraniums and sweet peas next to the village car park where it cleverly hid the recycling bins from view. Then just before midnight running up the road buzzing came the sight and sound of the terrible monster bee. As it got close, the villagers leap out and chased it with pitch folks and extra strong fly spray. Panicked the huge mutant vampire Bumble Bee ran back to Dr Bumble Beaman’s shed and locked itself in.

A terrible unspeakable thing happened that night and neither Dr Bumble Beaman nor Mr Hive (the Monster Bee) were ever seen again, and the village of Upper Dilly-Pickford received its big silver cup from Monty Don. Sadly though just a few years later all the bees died out or vanished and there were never any flowers in  Upper Dilly-Pickford after that and it never won the Britain in Bloom competition ever again and there was a strange lingering feeling of guilt among the villagers that eventually drove several of them mad. The large silver cup they won hidden away in a locked cupboard in the village hall.          

The A to Z Challenge 2016 Reflections Post

We have reached the ever popular A to Z Challenge reflections post again  and as you know each year I like to take a different approach and write something new. Only this year there is a problem because I can’t remember what I have written in previous years DAMN. Well no matter, I do know that those of us who write a reflections post have successfully negotiated all the letters from A to Z even those tricky ones like P or F; Phew they can be stubborn like critters hiding in the undergrowth squeaking and nibbling at the edges of our trusty QWERTY keyboards, cant they.

I did take a slightly different approach to commenting this year and only commented on blogs in response to a comment on my own blog and there is no denying this had a profound effect indeed. You see it meant that except for the trusty regulars who visit me all year round only one person came and visited on a regular basis, which meant I commented on their blog on a regular basis. And so this year I would like to thank Tamara Narayan for her persistence in visiting a blog that is generally shunned and looked upon with much horror and disdain by many, particularly when I write poetry. But as I am sure she can tell you herself I do leave some interesting comments at times.

I do like the A to Z and each year despite the cries of O NO GO AWAY I sneak back and hide at the back of the queue and try to do something different, but very much within the underlying principles of the A to Z. Only in a grumpy and maverick way because that is the sort of annoying chap I am, and it is why I am often told to stand on the naughty step. Luckily I always hire a stunt double and they have to stand on the naughty step while I sit at home drinking tea and plotting my next plan and wondering who I can annoy in cyberspace. Well I say annoy, but I fear due to my polite and middle class upbringing, the lack of sex, violence or rude words or swear words rather than annoy I may just slightly confuse folk.

If you have been confused or annoyed by my Poetic A to Z then all I have to say is HAH AHAhahah ahah ah ha haha ha ha ha ha  ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hahah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha   ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Finally I would like to say thanks to Mr B for a grand idea, thanks to all those who work in the background who make it all work and quietly tell folk to avoid a mad bloke called Rob Z Tobor, and not forgetting Miss lily who continues to follow this blog even when I write poetry or alternative Harry Potter stories which Miss JK Rowling shakes her head at muttering about a deranged mind who cannot type or spell . . . . .  

And thanks Mr H and Mr ESB and the Japanese for your continued support.

Well that has just about thanked everyone, but without you all and the continued support of my family and the cats, although the cats are a bit rubbish in truth, I would never have won this Oscar for the best. . . . . . . . . HANG ON . . . . . . . DAMN

    

So see you all next year then . . . . . . Maybe?