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Gotta Get Out The House

Ah… quality time at home with the children.

I’m sorry, what?! There is quality time with the children. And there is time at home with the children. And, for our family, the two are pretty much mutually exclusive. Home is about mess, fights, funny smells, nagging, exasperation, and a lot of arguments involving the word “screen”. The good stuff happens outside the house. IF ONLY WE CAN GET THEM OUT….

Gotta Get Out The House

Gotta get out the house, gotta leave,
My sanity needs some reprieve,
That two little boys,
Could make so much noise –
You’d have to be here to believe!

Before, I’d no concept at all,
Of the phrase “We are climbing the walls” ,
But now it appears,
We are wall mountaineers,
Trying to flee from the mess and the brawls.

We’ve tried castles, museums, a wood,
Hit the park way more times than we should,
Our purses are thickets,
Of passes and tickets,
Cos not being home is soooo good.

Our bank account’s screams are dramatic:
“No more lunch! No more fuel! I can’t hack it!”
“No more bribes!” (Yes – they’re wrong –
But they move things along –
And we call it “being pragmatic”!)

So into the car and away!
The safari park’s waiting today!
To the monkey house! Yes,
It might look quite a mess –
But OUR house will look worse if we stay!

 

©️Nina Parmenter 2018

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Two Tall Tales

Sometimes life is stranger than fiction. But usually — let’s face it — it’s not. In fact, sorry to say, it’s often quite dull.

Although most of the poems I post on here are autobiographical (with a little poetic licence), sometimes it’s fun to indulge in a bit of nonsense.

So here are two silly tales that are pure, silly, fiction (and if ANYONE recognizes themselves, it’s utter co-incidence!)

 

The Story of Sophie Smith

Sophie Smith came home from school, her blue eyes shining bright,
Her mum saw what was in her hand, and turned completely white.
“Look Mummy!” she cried happily, “I’ve got a violin!”
And she bounced up to her room, so her rehearsal could begin.

For hour after hour, Sophie scraped that violin,
She heard some shrieks from down the stairs, said “Great! They’re joining in!”
But when she heard the front door slam, she thought “What’s going on?”
So finally she left her room… and everyone had gone.

There were teeth marks in the table, there were gouges in the grout,
The cat lay cowering on the chair, its hair all fallen out,
There were claw marks in the curtains, lacerations in the floor,
There were signs of frantic packing, and a note upon the door.

“We love you, Sophie Smith,” it said, “but hate that vile din –
So sorry, but you have to choose – us or the violin!”
Sophie shrugged. She phoned her friends. Yelled “Party is at mine!”
“My friend,” she told her violin, “I think we’ll get on fine!”

 

My Dear Mr Morris

“My dear Mr Morris, I’ll hope you’ll consider
Me wedding your daughter. I heard you forbid her
To marry a suitor without your consent –
My intentions are pure, sir. I’m truly a gent!”

“So how will you treat her?” “I’ll spoil her of course!
You see, handling a woman’s like riding a horse –
The more fillies you tame, then the greater your skill,
Believe ME, Mr Morris, I’ve sure had my fill!”

“And what do you earn?” “Oh I earn to the max!
See, I’m building our future, so don’t pay much tax,
As I always take cash! Now, what was it you do?
Oh! You work for the Fraud Squad! Well hey, good for you!”

“And do you want children?” “Oh yes sir! A dozen!
I remember, my mum said she married her cousin
To strengthen our family’s excellent genes –
Which I’m keen to pass on, if you know what I mean!”

“Well Mr Morris, I think you’ll agree,
That she won’t find a husband who’s better than me!
Oh, we’re going outside? Ok! Let’s get some air!
Oh no, don’t close the door!
Hello???
Anyone there???”

 

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The smell of the weekend (a tale from my childhood)

It is said that smell is the very best sense for evoking memories. But can words evoke the smell?

I picked a very favourite smell from my childhood – the smell of custard bubbling in the pan – to try to find out. For me, custard is intertwined with happiness, family, and that wonderful “happy belly feeling”. Maybe it might take you back to Sunday puddings too.

The Smell of the Weekend

A tale from my childhood

Weekends. A lie in. Some morning TV,
A trip to the library, a dash to the shop,
Some football to watch or some good friends to see,
And a hot, milky pan that would bubble and pop,
Cos weekends meant pudding – with custard on top.

The anticipation was always a killer!
I’d trawl through my homework, my nose ever twitching,
Awaiting the blanket-soft scent of vanilla,
Velvet-cream thoughts so distracting, bewitching.
And then – yes! – a sweet, silky smell from the kitchen.

So I’d chomp through my meat and potatoes and veg,
(Or whatever our prelude to pudding that day),
The waft from the stove setting senses on edge,
Til finally! Pudding! And all was OK…
I’d open my mouth and slide sweetly away.

 

©️Nina Parmenter 2018

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Perplexing Child

We know that part of the reason for our success as a race is our diversity. And yet, we still sometimes don’t know how to cope with difference. Especially amongst our children.

Faced with sensitive children, artistic children, gifted children, ADHD children, autistic children – we’re tempted to try to homogenise them, make them conform, quash what makes them brilliant. Because, as much as we desperately love them, what makes them brilliant can also make them a huge, perplexing challenge.

Perplexing Child 

My brave, perplexing child – you are unique,
You do not touch the world like others do.
The words we say, our rules, the things we seek,

They’re all a strange cacophony to you.

What does life feel like, there behind your eyes,
Your mouth, your nose, your fingertips, your ears?
If I could breathe your breath, what fresh surprise

would hide within your thoughts, your dreams, your fears?

You challenge life. You rail against the norm,
Within this world that needs us all compliant,
You’ll blossom, though, while they rush to conform,

You’ll grow in your own skin, become a giant.

One day you’ll burn magnificently bright,Until then, there’s a world we have to fight.

 

©️ Nina Parmenter 2018

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Dinner with the girls

Last Saturday I went out for dinner with some fabulous friends, and it struck me how very similar it was to dinners-with-friends 20 years ago – but yet how very different. Different place, different friends, slightly different topics of conversation – yet the laughter, the bonding and the sheer joy of time spent with my ladies remained the same.

And, obviously, my face hasn’t changed a bit.

Dinner with the girls

1 – THEN (1998)

Dinner with the girls today,
So little time, so much to say!
We’ve spent the whole week studying,
So let the gossiping begin!
The sales today were just THE BEST –
I got this tiny glittery vest,
Which works for me, cos when I’m out,
I hoik em up; there’s boys about!
Let’s get into the crux of it:
Do you all wax your lady bits?
And when you’re naked with a man,
Do you do EVERYTHING you can?
For pudding? Ice cream! Make it 2!
My friend will have a Malibu.
Then let’s go clubbing, drink some more,
But try to get to bed in four –
Tomorrow, MUST be up by two,
I’ve got an essay still to do.

I hate it when the evening ends
Cos nothing beats good times with friends.

2 – NOW (2018)

Dinner with the girls today,
So little time, so much to say!
We’ve spent the whole week parenting,
So let the gossiping begin!
The sales today were just THE BEST –
I got myself this thermal vest,
Which works for me, cos when I’m out,
I layer up; there’s flu about!
Let’s get into the crux of it:
Do you all wax your husbands’ bits?
And when you’re naked with your man,
Do you keep socks on if you can?
For pudding? Crumble. Gluten free.
My friend will have a cup of tea.
My goodness!! Is it half past ten?
I must be getting home again –
Tomorrow, MUST be up by
eight,
I’ve got the hall to decorate.

I hate it when the evening ends
Cos nothing beats good times with friends.

 

©️ Nina Parmenter 2018

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Hey, Singularity!

In between washing socks and being five minutes late for everything, I like to spend a little time contemplating the mysteries of the universe. That’s why my ideal dinner guest would be the theoretical infinitely dense singularity containing all space and time, which possibly existed before the Big Bang. Or possibly didn’t.

The conversation, I imagine, would go something like this;

Hey, Singularity

Hey, singularity,
Endlessly dense,
Impossibly small,
Completely immense,

There’s one or two questions,
I’ve got in my head,
So if you don’t mind…
Ok, go ahead.

So just how hot are you?
Oh nothing’s more hot,
But there IS nothing else,
So that won’t mean a lot.

And what came before you?
There is no before.
All time is inside me,
No less and no more.

But what is beside you?
There IS no beside.
All space is inside me –
Beside is inside.

So everything’s in you?
We’ll sort of. I’m bluffing,
I DO contain everything –
But, also, nothing.

You’re killing me now.
Hey that’s no big deal –
I can’t really kill you,
You’re not even real.

And neither am I,
Well probably not,
The truth might be weirder.
What else have you got?

No more! Head’s exploding!
Ooh THAT’s a good plan,
I might try that too.
Ok… here we go… BANG!

 

©️ Nina Parmenter 2018

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Big long German words

Some people say German is an ugly language, but I’ve always found it incredibly enjoyable to speak, wonderfully descriptive, and, at times, hilarious! Besides, writing this allowed me to spend some time rifling through my Duden German dictionary, which took me right back to the happy place of my student days.

So, if you’re ready for a bit of fun oral exercise…

Big long German words

Big long German words are such a banquet for the ears,
They’re scary on the page, but please, just set aside your fears!
For like those German vehicles we’ve taken to our hearts,
The perfect German word is made from perfect German parts.

“Staubsauger” means hoover, or a “sucker up of dust”,
A “Büstenhalter” is a bra, or “holder for the bust”,
“Liebestrunken” means besotted, “drunk or high on love”,
A “Handschuh” is “a shoe for hands” – you’ve got it, it’s a glove!

“Gluhbirne” means “glow pear”, or a lightbulb, as you guessed,
“Brustwarzen” are nipples, simply “warts upon the breast”,
“Fahrtrichtungsanzeiger”? Well, that won’t take much unravelling,
It’s an indicator, or a “thing that shows which way you’re travelling”.

“Nacktschnecke” means “naked snail” – a slug to me and you,
“Durchfall” – well, that’s diarrhoea, or “stuff that falls straight through”,
“Fallschirmspringerschule” is a parachuting school,
And it means “a school for jumpers with umbrellas for a fall”!

So that’s the way it works! You see, it’s not TOO big or clever,
You just work out all the little parts, then stick them back together,
And now you’ve got the basics nailed, you won’t get stuck again
On words like “Donaudampfschifffahrtsgesellschaftskapitän”!

 

©️ Nina Parmenter 2018

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Estate-Agentese

Ah, poor beleaguered estate agents. I’ve met some nice ones and some not-so-nice ones, but one thing NONE of them can resist is describing properties using those cheesy hackneyed phrases.

My personal favourite was in the description of a small property we sold a few years ago. The garage roof was transformed, by Estate-Agentese, into a “delightful outdoor terrace”. Magic!

So, while many of us know the lingo by now, here’s a quick poetic guide for those who may not!

Estate-Agentese

Thinking of buying a house? I’m so pleased!
But first, I must teach you Estate-Agentese!
Estate agents, see, give some good information,
So long as, my friend, you can do some translation.

“A sought-after road in a popular area”,
(Everywhere else is more pricey or scarier)
“Local amenities easy to find!”
(Above a kebab place with rail tracks behind),
“In excellent decorative order throughout”,
(They painted the damp bits and touched up the grout),
“A beautiful garden, with large, well-stocked beds”,
(A postage stamp plot with some shrubs – mostly dead),

“A garage” (will house a mobility scooter),
“A study” (just room for a laptop computer),
“A lake” (a dry pond filled with brambles and nettles),
“A kitchenette” (space for a toaster and kettle),
“Priced for a quick sale” means somebody died there,
That, or there’s woodworm and dry rot inside there,
“In need of improvement” means stinking and vile,
And if they say “cosy”, then just run a mile!

Well, now you can speak some Estate-Agentese,
Go forth, my dear friend! And view properties!
And don’t look so worried; your prospects are rosy,
I’m sure, on your budget, you’ll find something “cosy”!

 

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Welcome!

Welcome to It All Rhymes, where I condense life’s wonders and blunders into verse – both silly and serious – and make it ALL FINE.

If you enjoy my rhymes, please “like” my Facebook page, and get new rhymes express delivered to your news feed! If you’re EXCEPTIONALLY lovely, please share my Facebook page too – www.facebook.com/itallrhymes

Enjoy the therapy. It all rhymes.

Nina Parmenter x

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You cannot beat a stick

My children have some great toys so  I feel a mixture of delight and slight irritation when they abandon them all for sticks.

No trip to a woodland, romp round a stately home, or quick pee in a layby is complete for my children without harvesting a stick. Gun-shaped sticks are among the most prized, although fights regularly break out over a good “staff”.

I am totally without scruples when it comes to disposing of them – however a 2 minute run round my house revealed the booty shown in the photograph. Yes. The sticks are winning.

You cannot beat a stick

Toy companies are pretty sly,
Their flashy ads are slick,
But still they cannot fathom why,
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