Don't Tell Me I'm Too Old to Vote

Hello dear reader, let me start by thanking you for following my blog, the stats are increasing and I know I have some lovely blogfans out there. That is so reassuring because I do spend many hours alone, either in my shed, writing, or playing the cello. Of course that is the path I have chosen and I wouldn't have it any other way, and when I do get to be in company I really enjoy that, too. So, thanks for joining me now and then. 

This week has been particularly quiet because David has been away visiting our daughter. I met him in Sheffield, at Meadowhall, when he arrived back on the Megabus, yesterday morning. He looked like he's been to Katmandu, rucksack and all, but the only souvenir of his trip was his bedsheets which he'd stuffed in the rucksack ready to go into the washing machine. He did take me to 5 Guys for lunch though, where we shared a burger and chips, and while it was a good burger, I thought it overpriced at nearly £11 for a burger, chips and a large paper cup of coke.

Now, the big news is that I have a date for my book launch, Sunday 27 October. It is to be at the Tap and Brew in Hoyland, at 4p.m. David and I have been designing a poster all morning, and this is what we have come up with:

So, pop it in your diary if you are going to be anywhere near the Tap & Brew in Hoyland on Sunday 27 October. The Tap & Brew is a great little pub, with a good selection of real ales, and a fantastic selection of gin drinks.

I'll be reading a short excerpt from Higgs Bottom, and introducing you to Sharpan the Rawskin, Reusable condoms, and a couple of unusual sonnets. It's all clean stuff though!

I'm looking forward to going to see my mate, Lee Pollard on Thursday, 10 Oct, when he has a one-man show in Barnsley. I shall make a full report next week.

And I've also got a slot in Elsecar, next Saturday, 12 Oct,  at the Heritage Centre, somewhere between 11a.m. and 4p.m. That should be a fun event with Ray Hearne leading the show.

What other news? Well, Ihave new boots:

They are very lovely, and keep me steady on my feet. Keeping up the image of Whacky Lady!















And I have kept away from the baking thing since my last disaster, eating bananas, and other such ready delights.

Here is a poem I wrote this week:

Don’t Tell Me I’m Too Old To Vote

Don’t tell me I can’t eat jelly for breakfast,

Don’t tell me what to wear, don’t tell me I’m past

My sell by date and Brexit’s not my affair,

Don’t tell me my brain is spongyfying at a rate of knots,

It’s not, it’s not, and if it is so what?

I’m a person of the planet; I’m not a microchip,

I’ve worked, I’ve procreated; I think I’ve done my bit,

And while there’s breath inside me I’m still a part of it,

So don’t tell me I’m too old to vote, I’m not the walking dead,

I can reason, I’m still in the boat, and you know what Doris said:

Don’t underestimate the silver haired, the ankle biting short,

They can rise to hold positions such as: Judge, Supreme High Court.

So don’t tell me I’m too daft to weigh up all the facts,

I can make a sound decision about parliamentary Acts,

Don’t take away my freedom; don’t take away my pride

Don’t tell me I’m too old when the fact is I’ve survived

Because I’m bloody canny, and I’ve worked to stay alive,

I’ve dodged the bullets, stood my ground, kept faith; I’ve ducked and dived

And I’m not beyond enjoying this extraordinary ride.

Don’t say the old are a burden on today’s society,

You wouldn’t be so scathing of a gnarled and knobbly tree,

You’d say, look how magnificent those ancient branches are.

And you’d prop it up, and hug it, feed it tree-food caviar:

You’d say, there’s wisdom in that tree, think what it must have seen,

You’d respect its age, look after it, sweep away its falling leaves,

You’d make sure as it got older it was safe from harm,

Not look on it as a fruitless has-been, scored and scarred,

Don’t tell me you’re unhappy with the way I rock and roll,

Stick this inside your ballot box - I’m not too bloody old!

So there you have it, another week goes by in the life of Jane Sharp. I hope you will join me next week to see what I've been up to. Oh, I nearly forgot, here is a short excerpt from Higgs Bottom to wet your appetite:

Have a fun week dear reader, love you lots, bye for now,

Jane x

The Bake Off That Was A Right Off!

...And right off it was! I thought I'd experiment with coconut flour, and whatever else I could find in the kitchen - butter, sugar, chocolate chips, almond milk. What could possibly go wrong? The worse that could happen would be rock buns, or some sort of scones, or even a crumble topping. But no. Whatever it was that came out of the oven, it was certainly not in any way edible. Yet another Birdwell bake off failure. I don't know why I bother. It's a good job there's and Aldi supermarket nearby, with Belgian Chocolate Pudding. And that is my cue for a poem I wrote this week. It's a bit of erotic for a rainy day.

I'm telling you now, when you get to my age, and energy levels are low, and libido is on the wane, and it's raining, there's nothing quite like Aldi's Hot, Dark Belgian Chocolate Pudding:

Hot Dark Chocolate Pudding

Sex - It's an amazing, erotic thing,
But, when there's a choice of Hot Chocolate Pudding,
At the mere mention of Aldi's Dark Belgian
All reason's abandoned, there is no contention.
Why go for sweaty bedroom gymnastics?
Heaving and humping, leathers and plastics,
When you can have such an indulgent treat,
Hot Chocolate Pudding, there's nothing can beat
That magic flow of melted, molten ooze,
That coats the tongue, that dark exotic fuse,
That lights excitement; makes your nipples zing,
It's truly orgasmic, the yang and the yin,
Fill up your trolley with Mango Sorbet,
I'm telling you now, there's no other way,
Smother it over your Hot Belgian Pudding,
Bittersweet purée sieved through a stocking
Gives that touch of naughty domination,
Add some whipped cream for decoration.
Hot Chocolate Pudding with Mango Sorbet,
I'm telling you now, there's no other way.

And here is the disaster that was supposed to be an afternoon tea delight:

Straight into the bin! Yuk! Disgusting!






















So, I'm not applying for the Great British Bake Off this year! But I am improving my cello playing, and I am busy with book promotion - Higgs Bottom. And I am putting a small poetry collection together, so never mind about my non culinary skills.

Here is a date for your diary, 27 October, at the Brew and Tap, in Hoyland where I shall be hosting a little do in aid of launching the book. Of course you are all invited - watch this space for details of timings etc a bit nearer the time.

Now, it's Sunday lunchtime in the Sharp house, coming up 2 p.m. so I'll say ta ta for now. It's raining in Birdwell, not at all clement, and we have the central heating on. Goodness! Winter is on the way. Still I can make soup, in fact I'm pretty good at that, there is always a bright side to things. Now, what shall it be, Heinz Tomato...

Have a lovely Sunday, dear reader, and a productive week. I'll be back next Sunday with an update of my week, let's hope there are exciting things to report.

Love and hugs,
Jane x

Yeah! Another lovely, poety week with plenty of laughs.

Yeah! Another lovely,  poety week with plenty of laughs.

Giving it with the Dead Donkey story - Jane Sharp

Have you ever been to a Barnsley Wedding - Lee Pollard

Tales of Whatever - The Shakespeares, Sheffield 19/9
Tales of Whatever Sheffield mixes seasoned performers and speakers, all sharing true stories of first-hand experiences. Hosted by Mark Powell and Lee Moore.

Sean Morley fresh from his highly successful Edinburgh run.

Lee Pollard is a performance poet who has recently taken an enforced absence from reciting poems after badly burning the inside of his right ear with the filling from a steak and kidney pie.

Sile Sibanda is passionate about entertaining and bringing joy to people through performance and recently won BBC Radio Sheffield’s This Is Me competition.

Valerie Monti Holland has built a career using creative techniques in prisons, schools and organizations across the public, private and voluntary sectors to deliver workshops and training.

(And Jane Sharp - spoken word poet and author making an impromptu appearance)

And the fun didn't end there, me and my girls went to The Venue in Birdwell to see Martin Kemp DJ an 80s night. I have to confess I couldn't stand the pace, and had to abandon the disco/rave/gathering, call it what you will, in favour of my comfy armchair and a quiet cup of tea. Still it was so good to see my family all together.

It all happens in Birdwell

And today, David and I had a stroll across the park to Hoyland and back. We didn't linger to watch the football, but it was good to see a group of young men running up and down the field, you know, testosterone and all that.

And the purpose of our trip to Hoyland, was to visit the Tap and Brew to arrange a date in October, for my book launch and a spoken word afternoon. Well, the landlady was not there so no date fixed today, but watch this space.

So, I thought you may like to hear the impromptu story which I related to a lovely audience at the Shakespeares pub in Sheffield last Thursday evening, subject, Mishap!

The Donkey Is Dead

It all began with one of those crazy ideas. When we lived in Crete we bought an olive grove, and I, in my weirdly, wacky wisdom, thought it might be nice to have a donkey. Well, it wasn't long before an old farmer let it be known that he had a donkey he would give me. It was in a pitiful condition, hooves that were as long as Aladin's pointy slippers, making it very difficult for the old beast to walk, and a mangy coat that was full of ticks. We did try to give our Rosie a pain-free couple of months before she died, but die she did. 

Unfortunately I was in England at the time due to a family crisis, and David had to look after our dying donkey.

Knowing her end was nigh, he took her to our olive grove. The next day she was no more, so he (with the help of a mate) dug a very big hole on our land, slid Rosie into her grave, and covered her over. Unfortunately, someone seeing the grave, and me being off the scene at the time, put two and two together and the rumour went out that David had done away with me and buried me, on the land. It could have been a sticky situation had I not returned in the next few days. R.I.P. Rosie.

I'd be telling porkies if I said I wasn't interested in Brexit and Climate Change, but you know what, there isn't a blind fig I can do about either one, so I have resigned to becoming a passive observer of events. There are all sorts of arguments, for and against Brexit, and the politicians don't seem to be able to agree on one specific outcome, and that isn't just British politicians, the European lot haven't exactly been too helpful as far as I can see. I do find it all very interesting though, if not a bit tedious after three years of trying to exit the European Union. As for Climate Change, my personal carbon footprint, with not having a car, not having flown anywhere for two years, not eating meat, and buying most of my clothes at the charity shop, is quite minuscule.

I think I will make a cake tomorrow, and probably get my arms around Valentino, as for tonight, I'm not a Peaky Blinder's fan so I will just have to settle for The World's Most Expensive Cruise Ships. I like watching the lives of the rich and the slightly insane.

Have a good evening, dear reader, I'm looking forward to chatting again next week.

Love Jane x