Yippee Calloo Callay!

You have reached the foot hill of the mountains.
You are most welcome
More than worthy

Monday, 27 September 2010

The green triangle.

The green triangle

Doodle doo…
An electronic rooster’s crow, Scott’s alarm clock, screeched its way like a breaking freight train into his dreams.
Scott who had been dreaming about chatting to the president of the United States was slightly bemused when the mobile in his hands started to ting, and the presidents voice changed into a cockerel’s.

Scott opened his eyes.

...Cock a doodle doo.

The room was dark. Closed curtains blocked the sun. The alarm clock. Scott slammed his hand down repeatedly all over, until success he hit the right button, and silenced the intrusive crow. Peace, calm. Then he flicked on his bedside lamp. The sudden change from light to dark both hurt his eyes and put his focus on the world into a gradual blur. Scott’s eyes soon adjusted, and he felt a fleeting regret for the passing sensation before he pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Scott drew the curtains from the window. It was drearily grey outside.
“So much for Sunday!” Said Scott speaking to himself.

It was 10:30 on a Sunday morning and if it were not for his alarm clock Scott would have happily slept well past 12.

Scott went downstairs, padding his way, barefoot to the kitchen. In the kitchen he checked the water level of his kettle. It sat above the marker numbered two. Plenty. Scott switched on the kettle not knowing how long the water had been resting inside. As the water heated up to boil, Scott took out a bread-knife from a drawer and cut himself a slice of bread from a loaf. He put the cut slice in the toaster, pushing down on the handle attached to the toasters side, lowered the piece of bread into the machine so it could toast. Meanwhile, Scott opened up a cupboard and took out a mug. He put a teabag in it. Starting with a rumbling sound that ended with a click. The kettle boiled. Scott took the kettle and poured the boiling water into the mug. Whilst his cup of tea brewed, Scott took out the slice of toast from the toaster and checked to see how brown it was getting. It wasn’t quite done, so he flipped it over and put it back in. Then he washed and dried the bread-knife before returning it to the drawer, where he took out a butter knife. Scott got himself a plate, took the lid off a jar of marmalade, then out came the toast from the toaster. It had yet to pop. Using the butter knife he spread yellowy globules of orange marmalade onto the toast, which rested upon the plate, and then sliced the toast into two pieces diagonally across the middle.
Scott used a teaspoon to fish the teabag out of his now well brewed cup of tea. He dumped the steaming teabag in the bin. Turning his back on the strong cup of tea he opened up the fridge to take out. Scott’s face fell. “Shit!”

Instead of a bottle of milk there was an empty space.

Scott ate his toast, put on a pair of shoes, struggled into a jacket, and left his tea to get cold. He went out the front door of his house and headed up the road to the corner shops. About halfway up the road, he noticed out of the side of his eye, a strange object. In the grass next to one of his favourite trees. An oak whose branches grew up towards the sky like curled fingers on a hand. A dark green point was poking out of the mud. Scott didn’t stop walking. He carried on all the way to the local shops, where he brought a bottle of milk and a newspaper. Apart from having no milk in the fridge, everything about this Sunday morning was quite usual. Scott thanked the shop keeper, and after paying for the milk and collecting his change wished him all the best. On his way home, beside the tree that looked like a hand Scott noticed that the green point sticking out of the mud, was still there.
Curiosity, made Scott stop, he bent down and scrabbled in the ground to find out what the object was. It didn’t take long to free the object. Scott looked at it sitting in his hand. It was a small green plastic triangle about twice the size of a match box. Here and there bits of dirt still remained stuck to the plastic. Scott had no idea what it was. He could have just dropped it on the floor, but instead decided to slip it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Little do we know about objects such as these, except that they like to prey on those who live alone and generally keep themselves to themselves. Incidents that make me wonder. In this case was it Scott that decided to pick up the triangle or indeed for whatever reason did the triangle choose him?

Finally, later than usual, Scott finished his breakfast routine. He made and drank another cup of tea. With milk. Then spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon with his paper. In fact he got quite comfortable and drifted off into a daydream, about hosting his own radio show. The first topic of which would be, what if anything did you used to call your gang or group of mates when you were at school? Scott fell gently into a snooze, a bright smile upon his face. He had forgotten all about the green triangle.

It was night time, getting late into the evening. The news crews and reporters had all but packed away and moved on. They had finished reporting the tragic accident of the day. One witness had told the BBC,
“First thing I heard was a very eerie sound... a buzzing sound, then I looked up into the sky”
Another said,
"I didn't see anything wrong with the plane. It didn't sound normal."
Paul Bisson, Aviation expert and senior fire officer explained,
“It (the plane) basically dove right into the top of the house . . . clearly a direct hit; it’s remarkable that it only took out one house. It could've easily taken out the whole neighbourhood."
"The only recognizable piece of the plane left is the tail."

There wasn’t much recognisable about the house either. A pile of mushed up concrete metal and rubble, bricks glass, the entire contents of Scott’s home, burnt, blackened, exploded together into a unidentified jumble of cemented mess. Remarkable. One house out of the whole street gone. As if some giant finger descending from the clouds, bounced along menacingly eeny meenie minie mo, before settling on devastation.
There were no survivors from the plane, 44 deaths, passengers, pilots, crew, all lost, and the owner of the house, Scott, dead too. He had never awoken from his daydream upon the sofa.

The plane that fell out of the sky. It was big news for almost a year. Then it became old news. It still cropped up in conversation from time to time. Little sparks of interest. Memory. Except the world moved on and bigger shocks and surprises where happening all the time.
Ten years down the line and the plane that fell out of the sky was only mentioned a scattering of times, rather than the full on showers that it had been at the start. In fact there was a new house on the spot of Scott’s old one, and a family had been living there now for five years. A husband and wife with a son called Harry and a dog called Cosmo. Harry was five years old, and one particular fine Sunday he was playing with Cosmo in the garden, when he discovered a strange mysterious object.
It was a green point poking up out of the mud in the grass. Cosmo saw Harry’s attention on the object, and quickly went at it with his paws, spraying mud with his scrabble until the object was rescued from the ground. Cosmo gripped it in his teeth and slobbered over it with his tongue. Harry using the fingers on his right hand pinched the object in between Cosmo’s teeth, tugging at it gently until it came free. It was a green triangle. Covered in flakes of mud. Harry played with it in his hand, pretending it was a spaceship that could fly.

“What’s that you got there, sport?” Asked Harry’s Dad, who was watching Harry vroom all around the kitchen with a new toy. Harry explained it was a spaceship that Cosmo had dug out of the ground. Harry’s father noticed it was rather muddy, so asked Harry if he could borrow it for just a second to give it a bit of a clean. Harry handed it over, and waited eagerly for it to be given back. He watched as his dad turned on the cold tap in the sink and let the water run over the green triangle. Bits of mud fell away from the triangle into the sink, until it shone green and sparkled almost clean as new. There appeared to be a slight groove in the triangle with some writing across it. Harry’s father took up a sponge and gave the triangle a brush, to completely remove the final traces of dirt.
“Well I never” He exclaimed,
“What? What?” Asked Harry,
“It’s this writing on the back of the triangle...”
“What does it say” Harry who had yet to learn how to read now, seeing his father’s interest in the object, was even more eager to have his triangle back, he squirmed about and his arm made slight snatching motions.
Harry’s father remembering why he had been cleaning the triangle in the first place looked down at his son; he smiled as he gave it back,
“The words say, Made in Bermuda.” Said Harry’s dad chuckling, before returning to finish his abandoned crossword on the sofa. Not knowing why he found this funny; Harry went back to playing spaceships with his new toy. Cosmo forgotten, together Harry and the green triangle vroomed in and out of every single room in the house. Until Harry got so tired that he fell asleep, with the green triangle clutched tightly in his hand.

Friday, 24 September 2010

Gunpowder Tea.

Gunpowder tea

At foolonthefootofamountain we can make a mean cup of tea friendly.

Thursday, 23 September 2010

Sitting by a window on a train departing Edinburgh.

Sitting by a window on a train departing Edinburgh

A universe of Hayley’s comets
streaking across the glass
a million stars
blazing meteorite trails
deserts burning
rutted warm canyon
american prairie
Jack Frost sand painting
samiad layers
the Rocky Mountains wall
the cosmos
and still
the world is born
like a forest of trees
each drop of water contains
countless solar systems
what would happen if one drop
merged with another?
i will wait by the window to see.

Above the Grand Canary
a storm of shooting stars
the race is on
sliding prophecies
these stars are like seeds
racing towards an egg
Roll up Roll up
place your bets
each with its own pace
its point in history
the slate
wiped clean
the rain falls
attacking the quite carriage
intrusive taps crack
upon the glass
as the train goes faster
a new myriad of galaxies is born
here I am
torn away
far below
the loud thoughts of earth
cannot be heard above
the life pulsating silence of space
my eyes gaze in awe
as armies of big bangs
zutt and slide
like an orgy of electricity
even more
the glass
past this
stretching to the horizon
two lovers reunited kiss
where sky meets sea
a million different worlds inside a tear drop!
i laugh at the phantasmagorical
if butterfly’s flapping wings
can cause the earth to quake
what happens when such a tear
lands into the ocean?
would the cosmos be forever changed?
what if I were to name
out loud
just two
of the drops
painting patterns on the window
would it remain?

Saturday, 11 September 2010

How the dish proposed.

How the dish proposed

If your walking on the doll
You can do so with a sparkle in your soul
All you got to do is find yourself a silver spoon

If its late at night and you sing to the stars and the moon
they will shine brighter and sing right back to you
All you got to do is find yourself a silver spoon

When the little dogs laughing set the cow a jumping
Something in my heart went thump thump thumping
"Go on pop the question, you know she's going to say I do"

That was it of we went skipping and a running
Singing so loudly outer space could hear us coming
All the way until we tied the knot upon the moon

Thump thump thumping oh my hearts so much lighter
All them moons and stars just keep on shining brighter
Im so glad im your dish
and your my spoon.

Thursday, 9 September 2010

The ghost in Sheffield sitting on a bench.

The ghost in Sheffield sitting on a bench

I might look like I’m sitting on a bench alone
But I’m not alone
I’m sitting with me memory
Eileen’s memory

Look at this upstart who’s just sat next me
If he was dressed like that back when I was young
Both his ears would sting
Odd socks and trousers, jeans
Worn so baggily
A pair of pink boxers
Such an ugly sight to be
Sitting on me memory

"Nice day,"
A surprise he speaks kindly, gently
"My names Tom this is a lovely place,"
He looks out over the botanical gardens
And sighs inwardly
His eyes I can tell by the look in his eyes
That he is also not alone
This boy's sitting with a memory too

"This is my wife’s bench," I turn and say
"Her name was Eileen."
Tom the gentle lad on the bench beside me
He listens so carefully
Looks out on the gardens so I speak freely
Occasionally he turns his head at just the right times
So I know yes I know that were sharing
A real moment

He looks me in the eye I look right back
It's been such a long time that someone's talked to me like a real person
Not dismissed me as that old man
With the horrible scab on his nose
That I actually feel glad to be a human being again
I go on to tell Tom how I used to work at the butchers
When I was a kid about his age
Do you know what
I tell him nearly all my history

Whilst he’s sitting there, he’s not bored,
In fact we began chatting along quite merrily
Just like old pals
A smile cracks his face and mine well just a little
I open up
Tell how I used to run meat up the hill to the butchers shop

“You get strong ankles in these parts
Good steel and strong legs
That’s what Sheffield’s famous for,”
It’s true, that’s just what I said

Together Tom and I sitting on the bench share some memories
Our chat slides along from loved ones gone
To life so tenderly
We move onto subjects
Like the orchids growing in the glass house behind us

Tom asks,
"Would you like a cup of tea"
I say
"Why not?"
"Just a little bit of milk please"

Back at home I’m dozing in me chair on me own
Thinking he’s young is Tom, in this world that’s grown so rapidly
Maybe it’s spinning out of reach
But I do know that there’s a lot of benches and nearly everyone has memories
Not long now till we’ll be together again Eileen
This dusty old carpet won’t feel the tread of me feet much longer
And Tom well he’s got plenty more years left in him than I do
It’s a cherishing thought that after I’m gone
He’ll be there
Sitting, not alone, on your bench where we both first met
in Sheffield's botanical gardens

I know if a certain type of stranger sits down beside him
Then that kind hearted Tom why he’ll listen gently
Maybe even get up like he did that day
Go to the cafe on the corner by the gate
To buy us both a cup of hot tea
Two sugars for him, a splash of milk for me
Good old Tom sitting there sharing our memories.
Sort of makes me want to,
Well it will keep both me and you alive, even though were gone
Won’t it?

Do you know Eileen the day I met Tom, it made feel so good to be a human being again,
That I don't feel lonely
and I’m not afraid to die.

Wednesday, 8 September 2010

Just so.

Just so

I walk along to the beat of a spade
So I can dig myself a hole
To sit in the shade
The lamp light melts the wax away
A hey hey
Hay hay hay
I wake up on a Saturday
I’ve got no worries, I drift away
I like the clouds
And the games we play
Just so
Oh oh oh
Now I dont know what to do
The time moves slowly
It’s not even two
I aint eaten and I’ve got no shoe
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh’s
But I feel fine
Let me you tell you honey
Sugar you taste sweet
Whether it’s rainy or its sunny!
So I don’t mind that I’m slipping of this wagon
When were both flying in the sky a chasing dragons
Hay hay!
Now were sitting up holding hands on a cloud
Taking a look at the bugs on the ground
I’m so happy it makes me rain tears of joy
Just so
Oh oh oh oh
There’s only one snag my trains due at nineteen twenty seven
So we better make the most of this time we’ve got in heaven
How’s about we make a lot of lovely flowers grow,
Before I go.

Hey hey hey,
I walk along to the beat of the spade
Look at all the pretty rows that I’ve made
Just so
A ho ho ho
Just sew
Hoe hoe hoe
Before I go.

Sunday, 5 September 2010

The land of sheep.

The land of sheep

There’s an electric tag that says I’m a novice dreamer
But then again maybe not
I don’t think I’m a novice dreamer
Then again déjà vu say what?
Perhaps I am just a novice dreamer
Wet behind the zzz's
Sleeping in a hammock at the bottom of a mountain
Instead of flying around lucidly on the top
So I wonder how high is this mountain
And will it ever stop
Then if somehow I reach the peak
Whats next
A mighty drop?

Then I’m back to sleeping in my hammock
Way down below the clouds

Beneath my blanket made of stone under comforting
Layers of earth and rock
I take to creating mountains out of wool
Whilst dreamily counting sheep
I yawn
Is there more than just one mountain
There’s more than just one sleep
And if you run and jump across three z's or more
Do you get to the land of sheep

The sheep that live on a far away mountain
Whose only dream is of being counted
Whilst being cared for by
shepherdesses made from wool
And right at the foot
Beneath the lucid spirits
Soaring high above the white
Sits the ragged boy stitching hammocks
To catch any sheep that fall.



It all added up perfectly. Somehow. I don’t know how it did it. You ever looked at a spreadsheet. Maybe even an excel spreadsheet. Black lines drawn straight across the page in columns and rows. Boxes or cells. To fill. Or leave back. To create use or even destroy. Well the numbers in these cells added up. Everyone had put in money. Six different members of the family. All together, added up it meant the return to be made was just right. Perfect. Quid’s in. Nothing to lose.
To celebrate, my dad. The boss of this operation decided we would go to the cinema. To see the Karate Kid.
I was walking outside the hotel. In the town, people milled about here and there going about their business. Which in this town centre consisted of traipsing from shop to shop occasionally stopping to share the time of day with someone they knew and liked, or hurrying on and feigning ignorance at the sight of someone they didn’t. When I bumped into Miss Chestnut.
My heart stopped. Luckily it started after skipping just a beat or two so I didn’t drop down dead in the street. It was great to see Miss Chestnut, Beth again. Alive. We held hands and chatted. Beths hands were sweaty and hot. I thought maybe so were mine, our fingers clasped together, jostled back and forth in comfort and play. I mentioned I was going to the cinema to see the Karate Kid. Beth said she would come too. Exciting.
We were just on our way straight there, when I realised there were two cinemas in this town. Which one would we be going to? Of course Beth got it right it would be the glass house screen. Only thing was I didn’t think my dad would know where we had gone.
I told Beth id better return to the hotel, and tell my dad, Beth replied this worked out great, as she could play with her hair and face and pick up a few bits and bobs, apparently, amazingly she was staying at the same hotel on the floor above me. Seperated by just a ceiling. I never knew.
On the way to the hotel I began to sing a nonsense tune.
In Shoe City
You only wear one shoe.
I messed up the lines singing shoe shitty before repeating the song over and over. Beth squeezed my hand; she laughed but wanted me to stop, as the song had quite an annoying quality to it. I didn’t stop and she smiled, before doing a funny trick with her eyes and whistling. I fell in love with her right there and then and stopped singing.
On the porch outside the hotel. Myles was there. Hey look its Myles, he reminds me of Zach from goodnight Mr Tom, does he remind you of Myles I asked Beth, but she didn’t agree.
Myles was happy to see Beth but his face fell when he saw mine. He introduced me to his friend. Who I chatted to. Myles seemed to have a warm embrace for everyone except me, still no worries, I noticed he had a lovely bike, and I complemented him on it.
“You can have a go if you like”
Seeing as Beth had already gone inside the hotel and I had some time to kill. I thought what the hey.
Just before setting off, I had a little rant about how the stars and the moon love it if you sing to them, sing aloud to them for they will shine bright, and then I hopped onto the pedal, not the saddle and the bike sped along at a terrific pace, without me even having to pedal, up a hill. What a magical bike. At the top of the hill I was still riding side saddle as it were and zoom, it was exhilarating speeding down the hill feeling the wind blow across my skin. At the bottom of the hill I turned the bike round to go back. I had a bag over my shoulder and it curled up like a sponge being wrung, until it got trapped round the front of the bikes wheel, at about halfway up the hill the handlebars came off, I tried to put them back in but the front wheel stayed stuck to the side. Which meant I could only turn left. Before crashing into any cars which I almost did twice. Beep beep the furious drivers pushed down on their horns. I managed to somehow surf the bike into a wall were it hugged the bricks and came to a gentle rest beside a bus stop. There were tools for fixing bikes on one of those green electrical box things that are full of cables and wires. You sometimes see maintanance men in overalls crouched down on one knee fixing them up somehow or another, a bit like theyre rewiring the matrix, something like that anyway, for sure in this case the box was metal, closed, green and had bike tools on it.
I used the tools to fix the bike. It was tough work. I nearly lost the handlebars. Then they wouldn’t go back on properly a spring mechanism popped up and wouldn’t clip together right.
“What are you thinking” I said out loud in my frustration, just as a voluptuous lady walked past in a tight figure hugging dark pencil skirt and purple silken blouse. She smiled at me and I laughed. This was getting stupid, of course the handlebars were still here and they went on like so, hey presto, the bike was fixed.
Only thing was id somehow got picked up by a bus and was now heading further and further away from the hotel my dad, the cinema and most important of all Beth.
Perhaps Myles had planned this all along. Why was he even there sat waiting on the porch outside the hotel. Then again how was Beth here alive and how come we hadn’t seen each other before if she was staying on the floor above me? Curioser and curioser. The plot thickened like dark storm clouds ready to spew forth rain and thunder. Still I was on a bus going to who knows where, with a magic bike that could ride up hills. I pushed a red button on a green pole, it went bing! The bus stopped at the next stop. Thanking the driver I got off. Not knowing where I was or what was going on. My heart started going thump thump thump and I liked it.

Wednesday, 1 September 2010



Sunlight falls upon the foam
do you know what your looking for
I want to be chasing lights in August.



Weepy crawly hippie crew
You can call me hippy two
Toucan tally token smoke
Tin can ally takey toke
We be cooly hippy tea
Tee me jury Julie be
We be call the hippie crew
You can call me hippie too
We-pee coollee hippy crew
Teach me tally keep me kool
Reapy crawley hippy croo
We be cool the hippy crew
You can call me hippie too
Sleepy tee-pee hippie rue
Tin can alley smoke a joke
Cups a string a ring a dope
Weepy crawlee hippie tea
Reapy crawley yip a dee
Sunlight barley likey do
Me hair me clothes me teeth me boots
me cup me bowl me face me spoon
Wicker diddly wonkadoo
Billie barley bally boo
You can call me hippie too
Webee call the hippy crew
Reapy Crawley Tanker Do
A whip on the colour the colour blue
Shyly Kylie kindly boot
Stinkingly dallily pally too
If you canny holler coo
Dibbily dabbily babbily doo
Swinky lah lah winky war
Pan the bunny going go
Tan the thunder
Tan the Thor
Sunker bunker
Punker more
Hunker Munker
Mice with cheese
Rizla price
The paste the peas
If you smoke it
Make it mind
Take a lick a little time
Tick a wacky want the clock
Cups with string she want her stop
No more time
And no more race
Sitting up a lock the place
Sicking out a ding doo fall
Sun light in the mortar boards
Hilly lally whooly call

“The pound of pun is mucky mud
Mucky mud
Mucky mud
The pound of pun is mucky mud
a bake a wickle pie”

Smopey tape a poorly pie
Mooky bub
Mooky bah
Micky monkey ducky nut
Were mucky pups mucky pups
Finger painting mucky pups
Heeby call the hippie crew
Jeeby call the hippie crew
Yippee cally yippee wee
Dilly dally diddly dee
Hip a cally hop a pop
Silly bally
Silly boo
We be call the hippy crew
You can call me hippie two
Tilly Tally Dooly Doo
Red spot white spots
Just one shoe
Pilly pally pally blue
Stinky stanky stooley stoo
A bubbly bibbly bobbly bee
Bibbly up a bobbly tea
A bobbly bubbly bibbly tea
Bobbly bibbly bubbly bee
Me blinkingly bonkingly blobbery tea
Bubbles know what boils I mean
Steamy whispers fancy that
A have no shoes a have no hat
Tilly Tally Dooly Doo
Reaches down takes off her shoe
Hip a tally
Hop a scotch
Plonks it
Into the pot
Steamy blissfully shimmery free
Tilly Tally to the tea
Weepy crawly hippie coo
Here’s a gift from me to you
Stickitly stinkily a top your head
Steamily steamily crumbly bread
Dishwasher dust
With sharks in the glue
Fancy that
A hat a shoe.

Weepy Crawly hippy crew
You can call me hippie too
We be call the hippie crew
A wee dee piddly bee