Povey Prattle

    An elderly man in Florida had owned a large farm for several years. He had a large pond in the back which was properly shaped for swimming. So he fixed it up nicely with picnic tables, horseshoe courts, and some orange and lime trees. One evening  the old farmer decided to go down to the pond and look it over, as he hadn't been there for a while. He grabbed a five-gallon bucket to bring back some fruit. As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee.    As he came closer, he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his pond. He made the women aware of his presence, and they all went to the deep end.   One of the women shouted to him,      “We're not coming out until you leave!'   The old man frowned, and said     'I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or to make you get out of the pond naked..     Holding t...

Did your mother, like mine, tell you that she had eyes at the back of her head?   I never saw them,  but she knew how to use them. My cats are learning that I have inherited this reverse sight from my Mum. Junior cat Adelaide can be a bit whiney, but she is usually well behaved. She occasionally transgresses by trying to sleep on the sofa (forbidden by me on account of her coat shedding). Of course I never hear her get onto the sofa,  but I wherever I am in the house, I "know"  that she has done so.    My reaction is simple.  I enter the living room, and simply point at her, whereupon she leaps off the sofa.   No words are needed. Senior cat Ada is more "loving" than Adelaide,  but she is also a bit sneaky.  Here are two examples: Both cats get a "treat" of a tablespoon full of canned food at 6:45 each morning, and 4:15 each afternoon.  (They know those times, and start prowling and yowling about fiftee...

I received a letter from the Smithsonian Institution today. It was addressed to  THE MICHAEL POVEY. At last someone has got it right, and that "someone" is the prestigious Smithsonian. So, listen up all you pretenders, imitators, wannabees, and groupies who share my name. The Smithsonian certifies  that I am THE MICHAEL POVEY .

Every year on Bastille Day I play the Hector Berlioz version of La Marseillaise, as recorded by the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, with soloists Sylvia McNair and Richard Leech, and with the boys from the choirs at St. Michael and All Angels Church,  and St. David's Episcopal Church. https://youtu.be/a_JuRwRowWM On the same day my friends Jean-Pail and Lizzie Chausatt always listen to the same recording at their home in Bordeaux, France. They and I are tickled pink that they had never heard the Berlioz arrangement, until I gave them the C.D. It's a fond toast across the ocean. Earlier today my American friend, the Revd. Mary Luti reminded her Facebook friends that the words of the French National Anthem are filled with blood and gore.  Not to worry , 'tis a good tune and our heads don't need to be bothered with a troublesome text since it is sung in French. 'Tis a good tune:  good for the French I suppose.  But I was raised in England  and was l...

My beloved mutt Penne "loves" to ride in my car. If and when such rides are convenient and possible  I stand by the inside of my front door and say "CAR".  At this Penne will come dancing and prancing; yipping and yapping, and verily singing to the door. Today, instead of saying "CAR",  I spelled out the word, and said  " C-A-.R". True to form Penne,  came dancing and prancing; yipping and yapping, and verily singing to the door. Does this mean that she can spell?  I want to believe so, but I have my doubts, After all, spelling out  " C-A-.R"  most surely sounds like  "CAR". That being said, I am tickled pink that my beloved mutt Penne "loves" to ride in my car.  It seems to be a genuine treat for her whether she hears me call "CAR", or "C-A-R". I am delighted when Penne is dancing and prancing; yipping and yapping, and verily singing . Human life needs more dancing and pran...

As I walked out with Penne at about 3:00 p.m.today I happened upon some "strangers".  I saw a youngish couple as they fished from the Gazebo at the neighbouring Glen Oaks Manor pond. I also saw a middle aged man, as he wheeled a baby buggy in which there were two infants. A small boy (maybe aged three) raced ahead. Then the small boy stopped, and began to cry.  Something had bothered him. Without a word, the middle-aged guy hoisted the weepy small boy onto to his shoulders.  He walked on,  with the infants in the buggy, and the small boy on his shoulders. It was a lovely scene --  peace had been restored. A bit later I walked again with Penne,  Once again I came across the two guys. I said to the older man  "that was  a lovely moment when you hoisted your weepy son onto your shoulders". He responded with "that was not my son, that was my grandson". Well I never. The middle aged man was the grandfather. The youngi...