<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/do-not-disturb/”>Do Not Disturb</a>
no choo choo coming down my line
DOWN THE LINE
Never say ‘I luv ya’ on the line
Don’t do my banking, a bank’s just fine
Won’t post my vote coz it’s just for me
Only my business how I wanna be
Thanked for what I give to people in need.
So I’m not tellin’ ya how I feed
My family an’ friends’, no business o’ yours
Anyways ain’t got no ‘puter in or outta doors!
AWE
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/karma-chameleon-2/”>Karma Chameleon</a>
Your words and actions will influence what happens to you in the future.
A PROMPT RESPONSE
I have put the main idea of this prompt in italics because it is so obvious, stupid, and trite I can hardly believe it has been posted. Briefly, all life is aimed at speaking and behaving in the way we do in order to bring about the progress of our life as we want it to be. So what can one say other than , “Yes, I know”.
AWE
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/powerful-suggestion/”>Powerful Suggestion</a>
twenty years ago.
TWO MANY COOKS
If I could have 1995 all over again I might not have given up writing for my own pleasure on April 14th that year. You must think I’m mad. A lot of people do. But honestly, that was the day I wrote back to a major publishing house and regretted I could not accept their generous offer of £150,000 ($250,000) advance to write my autobiography. The thing that stopped me was that I could not have done it without telling the truth. If I had told the truth my family would have been distraught and I would have lost many of my close friends. So I just said sorry, no deal. Well what’s so bad in that? My life was exciting, interesting, sad, funny and full of all the things many people wish they could say with honsesty about themselves and what they had been through. But the faces in my dreams just crushed me into nightmare after nightmare and I pulled out. I’m not sorry because I still have many friends who would not be talking to me now if I’d told the truth about them. But what I hate about my decision was what it led to making me do.
I was 52 years old at the time and had a son of five and a half just starting proper school. I couldn’t expose him to what I would have written. His brother, then aged 26 would have been far more deeply hurt so it wasn’t on. But what did I do instead? Well I somehow managed to carry on fighting a dreadful illness, and keeping a lot of the world up to spec on the main breaking news stories, and manage to get to Mass at least once a week. But to do this I started to increase my alcohol intake seriously. Nobody noticed because I had a huge tolerance to this form of abuse which I had been using for most of my life to get through my health problems. But it was just enough to turn a very bad anxiety neurosis into a form of cancer that was diagnosed in February 2,000 and has been with me ever since. It keeps me in agony most days. Was I right to keep mum when I did? I know what I think.
What do you think?
AWE
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/third-from-the-top/”>Third From the Top</a>
WHY I WRITE AS I DO
I have never expected that anyone I knew personally, and who did not know that I had a word press site, would inadvertently pick up my writings. Yesterday I discovered that several people I knew well had discovered my digital secret and were fascinated at what they thought I was revealing about my family and amical circle. As a result I felt it necessary to post this article to clear up any assumed misunderstandings. So ears back everyone, here comes the truth!
The most difficult thing about blogging, as daily posting of stories articles and jokes, is usually called, is remembering that there are readers out there who may wonder what is fact and what is fiction. Well in my case it is about 50-50 as far as biographical, spiritual, humerous and personal stories and articles are concerned. But a lot of my writing is obviously not about me, or true, because the characters are completely incompatible with those versions of themselves which have appeared in earlier posts or stories.
But when it comes to expressons of opinion, morality, my Faith and comments on current affairs it is straight from my inner convictions and I never lie to myself. About myself yes, I am a born ego-hyperbolist, but never in any seriously stupid or unpleasant way. My chronic anxiety neurosis from the age of six is totally true in so far as I have always suffered from it, but the way in which I often recount anecdotes about how I deal with my mental illness, or the situations in which I have found myself, everything from hilariously funny to literally depressed beyond belief, are as likely to have been understated as overstated. What I never do is write about my own family without asking them first and always, with one obvious exception if you have read it, changing the names of people who are still alive.
It is true that I am currently being treated for five major illnesses, including cancer, but I leave all that to God, Saint Rita and my doctors to sort out.They are currently doing a very good job.The worst side of this type of suffering is how it upsets my wife and sons, though my wife’s prayers have played a large part in making it possible for me to get by. But again I never mention real names when talking about people who I know and whose suffering I discuss. This is a big ‘no, no’ for any blogger. So how should my readers approach my writing? If I post an obviously fictitious story, no matter how obviously much of it is based on things I have experienced, then the whole thing should be taken with a pinch of salt; especially if it is riddled with bad jokes. Also my poetry and verse is always no more than an exercise in doing something I enjoy. The one exception which I think I have posted is ‘an Ode to my Wife’, a heartfelt and a genuine expression of how I feel.
The main important point I would like to make is the reason why I write. The nature of my health is such that this is now about the only way I have of talking to the ‘outside world’. Having been a journalist since the age of two and a half, really my pram was just missed by a bomb I shall tell you about that soon, but there was a break of 13 years in the middle, resuming when I was hired as London classical music critic for an American news agency. This augmented my pocket money enormously. Soon sports were added to my freelance writing and included tennis, rugby and motor racing between the ages of sixteen to eighteen, so I had an enviable start to what was to become my career.
But the most important things that can be seen from everything I write are that I have been an anomaly amongst my peers all my life. Also whenever I have decided to take a particular path in life something has happened unexpectedly to turn all my expectations on their head. Only my love of God has remained with me as I wanted it and that because it is also the source of my most enjoyable love. Also I am convinced that God has a really good sense of humour. Well just look at us all. He must have!
Anton Wills-Eve
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/ha-ha-ha/”>Ha Ha Ha</a>
CUSTER’S FIRST STAND
His mother said, “George, you’ll go blind!”
AWE
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/ha-ha-ha/”>Ha Ha Ha</a>
I’ve been told to tell you a joke.
YOU ASKED FOR IT
When given a command like the one above I always dive into my seventeen anthologies of appalling jokes by Bennet Cerf. Unusually for an Englishman I was more familiar with his writing than anyone else by the time I was four years old. I could even tell some of his stories in Irish. But I have decided to give you all a treat instead and made up an original joke specially for ‘word pressers’ which I promise you is 100% all my own terrible sense of humour. Here goes.
Two parrots were walking through Central Park one sunny summer’s day when the first parrot turned to the second and said ,
“Nice day.”So of course the other parrot replied. ” Nice day”. Two hours later the first parrot died of exhaustion, at which the second parrot thought to himself, ‘Lucky I didn’t speak first’.
Anton Wills-Eve
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/imitationflattery/”>Imitation/Flattery</a>
IF WILL SHAKESPEARE HAD BEEN A BLOGGER
it is rumoured that the following sonnet appeared on page eight of the Stratford Daily Bugle on the 4th of October, 1597. It was signed ‘anon’ and filled ‘poets corner’ for that day. But the author was not so averse to public acclaim that he did not mind prefixing the work with the words, “This is my 73rd go at writing these bloody things, will I never get one right?”
T’is that time again when I am wracked by ‘flu and cold
And yellow drops, hourly, from my red nose do hang
Next which my ‘kerchiefs have countered sneezes bold’,
Bare ruined nostrils next which no sweet notes ever sang.
In me thou see’st, therefore, at the closing of each day,
Like dim, grey twilight as the sun sinks in the west:
The sniffling posture of a poet, prisoner of his unwrit lay,
Left on life’s shelf, his coughing never allowing him to rest.
In me, all thou can see, are the carnal ashes of my years.
There, where my gorgeous youth often did lovingly lie,
Is now my death-bed as my passion is reduced to tears
For Anne mistook herself as nourisher of my evening sigh.
This I know full well, who does himself despise. Oh shit,
To be loved by she on whom I ‘oft, so shamelessly, did spit!
Anton Wills-Eve
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/three-perfect-shots/”>Three Perfect Shots</a>
A HOLE LOT OF LOVIN’
The top players all agree, golf is a game you play in your head. It’s all psychological.I’m so lucky. My study window just overlooks, if you lean out and use a pair of binoculars, the tenth hole at the Royal Liverpool Golf Club at the Wirral seaside town of Hoylake in North West England. It has staged the British Open golf championship twelve times, one of the world’s four ‘majors’, and so also more often than any other course in England. We had it again this year. The whole place was packed for a week with foreigners and it was all great fun.
But try playing Hoylake in mid winter. Gary Player, Tiger Woods and Jack Nicklaus all rate it the most difficult course in England and it probably also holds the world record for the most number of swear words uttered within a radius of 500 metres of any one spot in a year. I have probably contributed a high per centage.
But oh the short 13th (depending on how the course is set up) is a golf maniac’s dream. The only way you can do it in par three is to hit all three shots incorrectly. Play it as advised by the professionals and you will end up in a bird sanctuary, on a sandy shore with ten foot waves at the wrong time of day, or simply in a bunker in which you cannot even see your feet let alone the rest of the course.
Well if I MUST tell a ‘golfie’, let me take you back 28 years to that wonderful April day when I hooked my drive so badly it struck the pin on a neighbouring green and ricocheted back onto the fairway, missing the dreaded bunker. This left me a delicate pitch into the wind, only 30 yards from the pin. I smacked it so hard it finished up 30 yards the other side of the green. My playing partner put his bag of clubs on the ground, we carried our own bags in those days. It was to the right of the flag, off the green of course, but towards my ball. He played a decent chip to within 15 feet from the hole and looked happy at the thought of a four. I decided to cut under the ball and try running it across the green and hope it went towards the flag. It didn’t. I tweaked it so badly it shot like a bullet into the the side of my friend’s bag, shot back onto the green and sped like lightening towards the hole.
Oh wonder of wonders! I’d cracked it so hard it wedged between the flag stick and the side of the hole. I Knew I was allowed to remove the flag stick as long as I did not move my ball. I very carefully lifted the fluttering number 13 high into air and stood in stupor as my ball dropped into the cup for an unprecedented three. I really was on cloud nine.
Now if you wonder how I remember the details of that exploit so well imagine trying to perfect something and succeeding only once in 46 years. Anything at all, believe me you don’t forget a second of it. And every time you recount the feat the exaggerations get just that little bit more unbelievably brilliant. Ah yes, the only way to play the greatest game really is in your head!
Anton Wills-Eve
Anton's Ideas 