But why am I being such a wuss? Hurrah, the inaugural LAPCPADPOUB day has released my chains and freed me from such despotic tyranny! I'm standing firm with my fellow brothers and sisters who are incensed that blogging about cats and writing bad poetry should be struck off from the ether! Why such censorship when even worse crimes are committed in the name of blogging? I'm aghast the myriad pictures and stories of knitting, garden tools, sitting (not to mention here, nor there) or telling bad jokes aren't treated with equal disdain and derision. Harrumph!
Bring back the birch, or exile to the furthest corners of the Empire*, I say. Even better, let's introduce deportations to secluded birch woods on the Isle of Man for the worst offenders. Let's...
But I digress.
Thus liberated and feeling much better about life, I sat down to write you a lovely new poem. Silence. No frantic tippety tap of the keyboard as usual. I was experiencing my first ever bout of writer's block. No words, meter or rhyme would enter my brain. Rien. Nada. Nothing. For all of oh, about 12 hours and I was asleep for 8 of those.
Then NAH told me a little something about Jess at breakfast on Thursday. That, swiftly followed by a brisk walk up the hill to Threadspider's for coffee and chocolate biscuits later on that morning, soon got the creative juices flowing again:
Our playful heroine
To amaze and surprise us allWhat's she doing? I hear you ask
Well, now she's playing football
Not for her some red dot to chase
Unlike her brother Skimble**
Not for her much quieter games
For example Hunt the Thimble.
For I've been drying firetongue beans
To send off here and there
But Jess espies a playtime treat
Especially for her
So now we lie awake at night
Hearing paws go pitter-patter
Across the kitchen floor below
As beans from tables scatter.
LAPCPADPOUB is bought to you by Happy Mouffetard (HM), inspired by a Comment conversation with Arabella Sock. Do you think we should have the longest possible acronym contest next HM?
I'm listening to the theme tune to Top Cat from McPhee1969.
The pictures are subtitled, so I don't need to tell you what they are here.
And I can't tell you what I was writing about this time last year, because this blog wasn't even a twinkle in my eye at that point ;)
* = Empire Theatre Sunderland, for example. A well-known performance graveyard. They breed their audiences tough up North.
**= Skimble loves to chase a laser beam light; Jess thinks this is all rather old hat. The link is to a proper cat poem :)