Secret police


I have had a chulo day .

I blogged a bit, drew for a while, did the Times crossword and generally enjoyed myself.

Big H made me some poached eggs for my tea and then went out to his friend’s house as it is a Thursday night  and they have a standing arrangement to play at gaming together.

He will arrive back in a very silly mood and be a big pest.


I shall be busy tonight working out the details for painting a portrait of my big brother. I suggested that I do one for him and he was very enthusiastic,  so hopefully I should have it done in a few months.

It is quite an intense business but I love it. He is in fabulous condition, with a six pack, so I may do him shirtless but I have not decided on a course  of action  as yet.


Talking about six packs, my father had a six pack even into his eighties.  He used to do about four hours of push-ups, sit -ups, leg-ups and chinning a bar across a passage  every day, and he looked extremely youthful.

He had the silliest sense of humour and I loved him dearly but he died a few years ago. He could be awful at times but he was also very sweet. I can remember sitting watching him when I was a child, as he spent hours carving little pianos or animals out of pieces of Edam Cheese , just for me. Once they were done I would admire them, and then snatch them up and eat them.  Excellent.

Have you ever wondered why most elderly women look exactly the same?

I  think that I have worked out what happens to them. Picture if you will,  an ageing but still individual  lady, getting on to her local bus and going happily off to shop in town as per usual.

The only thing is, that this time she finds out that this  is not the  usual  journey, because the bus will make an unscheduled stop, and she will be escorted off the bus.


Later on in the day she gets back onto the bus to go home again and she is horribly different .

She is wearing a nasty felt hat with a big knob stuck on the top. Her coat is crimplene with four huge plastic buttons and it is far too short for the long polyester skirt that is hanging down limply except where it is stuck to her legs with static.

Instead of her smart high heels she is now wearing nasty cream flat shoes, in extra wide, with elastic front panels. These shoes also have holes stamped across the tops to felicitate the airing of sweaty feet and the easing of painful bunions.

So, clutching her handbag, coloured in a dubious shade of brown , she takes her seat.

Her placid face staring calmly out of the window , livened up with harsh mauve-red lipstick and the copious application of pale pink powder.

The deed is done and all the other similar old ladies nod benignly.

No,  NO,  do not be afraid you older peeps. You can stay safe from this terror by only ever travelling on a bus during the times when a bus pass is not acceptable, because then only real people are busy travelling, for proper reasons.

I believe  that you too can avoid the old age undercover police squads, if you stay ever vigilant, wily, and in possession of  up to the minute bus schedules

Rest easy. Even if it does happen to you, your husband will never notice the difference.


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