Category Archives: Attempts at creative stuff

My leaving speech, since people asked

I’ve always been one for cheerful farewells, because I’ve seen that most farewells are temporary. However, no matter what some people would have you believe, I am not completely heartless, so although this speech is light-hearted, there is a core of affection and sentiment here for a special place with many special people. Oh, and if Claudia thinks she’s heard some of the worst puns in her life – well, she hasn’t heard anything yet.

I’d just like to say that the first part of this speech is Fran’s fault. It was entirely her idea, so Alex-pect you to direct any disapproval towards her rather than me. Fran-curly speaking, however, it’s not a good idea to Andre-estimate my pun-making abilities, especially when I am given a challenge. When I meet a chasm across which I cannot leap, my first response it always to try and Bridget. Making puns has always been my weakness – you could almost say it’s my A-Kelly-s Heel. When I’m on a roll, my fingers get all Ting-Li, specially when the puns are new and Yannick. I hope, therefore, that she will Rooi the day she made this suggestion, and I will Tanka you not to judge me too Harsh-ly, for although what I am about to say lowers the Toon, it also fits the Bill. In fact, you could almost say it was Taylor-made for the occasion. I hadn’t Ashleigh planned to Mackay this speech from this Conor of the room, so I apologise for any randomness it might have. I do, however, think this is a Xana-ing example of what you can accomplish in a single afternoon, if you sit down and say “Well, Lucie what I can do, applying my Onella-stic standards to the output.” I hadn’t realised the school list was such a goldmine of puns, and of course the more you look the Richard it gets. Ivan to say, however, that I apologise for hurting your Felix, and Natalie Alfie-eel deeply hurt if your thoughts of me are turning Nastya by the second.

I would also like to say that the weather in England being what it is, when the skies get Claudia in the winter, it’s always a good idea to have a Sveta or two. I could easily Philipp a great deal of time with puns like this, and Dax the truth. How-Eva, none of this is really Germaine to the occasion, Zoe-t gives me great pleasure to fine-Eli wind up this part of my speech and get on with ex-Zak-tly what I had originally intended to say,

Ah, dearest Brockwood,
Farewell to thee –
Land of sweet muesli
And of peppermint tea.

Ah, dearest, fairest Brockwood,
My time here now seems fleeting,
As I think back on all that rota,
And every Moaning Meeting

Ah, dearest, fairest, loveliest Brockwood,
I would say more, if my writer’s block would
Disappear, then I could perhaps say
In better words what I feel, on this fine feast-day.

The things I have seen, and those I love most,
I drink to them now, with this orange-juice toast.

To friends I have made,
And talks with them had.
A merry parade
Of the glad, sad and mad.

To walks in the Grove,
And to Inwoods in the frost;
To Devon, and camping,
And to socks I have lost.

To equations simple,
To equations simultaneous.
To equations quadratic
And to Theorem Pythagoreous,

To ankles that sprain,
To warm fire-light
To wild wind and rain
To blessed holiday-quiet.

To sunshine on the grass,
Newly-mown, fragrant.
To heavenly pizza,
And rule-bending, flagrant!

To puns I have made,
In moments of crisis;
Let no one forget
That I am no riceist!

To things I should have said –
Can we pretend that I said them?
And to those that I shouldn’t –
Apologies, I regret them.

To concerts and choirs,
To late-night conversations,
To sunshine on the dew,
And midnight railway stations.

To the Vento, that I loved;
To my own library lair,
And the many strange things
You encounter down there.

Ah, what the heck….

To being sentimental!
I can no longer resist!
To good friends everywhere!
To telling people they will be missed!

The time has come to move on,
But rest you easy, have you no fear!
I’m only going to London,
So I’ll visit, and plague you next year.

Lest these moments slip away from us forever

I want to record for posterity all my greatest puns, some quite extraordinary, some not.

In the lunch queue one afternoon, when it’s rice for lunch:

Fran: Brown rice or white rice?
Me: Brown or white? What do you take me for, Fran, a riceist?

Last night at the Thomas Lord, after a Bailey’s and a cider:

All this has gone in-cider my Bailey’s.

A bit later on, when we were discussing stuffed animals and Val called for a taxi:

So, Val, is that taxidermy, then?

Thank you for your attention. You may now carry on with your drab, boring life, knowing that I’ve brought a moment of joy into it. That makes me happy too, you know.

A small love poem

With my deepest, sincerest, most sympathetic apologies to Mr. Lear.

The Anu and the Vento

The Anu and the Vento went to the M3 –
She was a beautiful pea-green car.
They took some petrol, and plenty of collateral,
And set course for distant Myanmar.

The Anu looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
“O lovely Vento! O Vento, my love
What a beautiful vehicle you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful vehicle you are!”

Vento said to the Anu, “You elegant man, you,
How charmingly sweet you drive!
Oh! Let us be married; too long we have tarried:
Without you I cannot survive!
So they drove away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Brock-tree grows;
And there in the Grove, that old treasure-trove,
Sat a sheep with a ring on his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
Sat a sheep with a ring on his nose.

“Dear Sheep, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?” Said the sheepy, “I will.”
So they took it away and were married next day
By the rabbit who lives at the Dell.
They sat on a sofu, and dined on stewed tofu,
Which they ate with a chopstick and spoon,
And wheel in hand, by the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

Comments welcome. Please, don’t gush. And for those who are confused, click here.

Much Obliged, Jeeves

While that happens to be what I am reading, I’m not really beholden to the ultimate Gentleman’s Personal Gentleman. Just what my eye happened to glance over.

New obsession: Fleetwood Mac. Also Peter Gabriel. Gah. Why do songs always get stuck in my head like this? Then I hear them over and over and over and get bored of them, but their spell never ceases to fascinate. It’s really a sort of love-hate thing.

In other news; weather continues fair and mild, with some rain. That’s it! Oh, ManU course material arrived today; looks pretty interesting. Java City, here I come!

Ode to English Weather

The thing I love about the weather in Old Blighty
Is that it’s so variable and flighty.

Wake in the sunshine, breakfast in the rain.
Some snow, some hail, a violent gale –
Lunch is mist-shrouded, then sunshine again.

Ooook. Going to leave it like that for now. Come back to it later.

Elegy Written on the Death of my Favourite Sock

Elegy Written on the Death of my Favourite Sock

Where art thou now, O lonely, left-footed friend of mine?
Wandering through Valhalla, some afterlife divine?
Art thou gone to oblivion, or to burn forever in Hell?
Or reborn as a handkerchief – who among us can tell?

Last morning you were sprightly, with your mirror image paired,
Your right-footed companion with you my drawer shared.
This evening I am gloomy, aye, sunk deep and morose
And from out of my left sandal, do coyly peep my toes.

Into the great round portal of the washing machine you went –
(I cannot bear to think of it, in grief I am double-bent)
To have your sins all washed away, and your purity restored,
But the omens I did not heed, and the warnings I ignored.

And when the buzzer sounded, I knew not that I had erred,
I could not know, in truth, that ’twas your death-knell that I heard.
I opened the great round door, and eagerly peered within –
But you were gone – GONE! – amid the fury of Wash and Rinse and Spin.

Now I am a shadow, broken where once I was bold.
With frost-bite in my left foot, and other ailments of the cold.
I pass my time in listening to the meaningless tick of the clock,
And in cursing the foul machine that went and ate my sock.