Ped’s weekends can be quite exciting
He’s turned from sailing to land-yacht kiting
For holidays, he loves to pamper
Sarah, by taking her in his camper
I’m not talking Winnebago here
No an old VW he holds dear
So that Sarah and he will not feel loners
He’s joined the VW camper owners’
Club, here’s something you may not know
Young Pedro really likes to row
And every year he sets the pace
On the Thames in the Great River Race
Co-opting in a willing crew
But for some reason, ‘not Big Stu!
Rumours that Pedro is now posh
He’ll surely find difficult to quash
The chattering classes are all a-chatter
About his appearances at Henley regatta
In blazer and boater, one of the toffs
At we poorer mortals he simply scoffs
Meanwhile, much to his chagrin
Stuart’s one-time cunning plan
To sell his boat and move ashore
And venture out to sea no more
Came badly unstuck four years ago

When his old mates, Martin and Jo
Bought Magnum, and started to race
Stuart thought it a disgrace
That in his old and fragile state
He was asked to navigate
“I don’t do cold, I don’t do rain!”
Poor Stuart’s protests were in vain
Come rain or shine we’ve dragged him out
He’s one of Magnum’s most devout
And loyal crew and I’m not joking
He recently had such a soaking
The rain came down at such a pelt
That even Big Stu began to melt
For a man, who I must confess
Could bankrupt the NHS
With the amount of medical intervention
And tests too intimate here to mention
With which he seems to fill his time
He gets on with it and does just fine
By now I think you’ll plainly see
That Ped and Stu have some history
Like Batman and Robin, Morecombe and Wise
Laurel and Hardy and all that implies
About each other, deep down they care
And there are lots of friends they share

Hence why they’ve shared this do tonight
It’s not because they were too tight
To have two parties, no siree
They simply wanted to share my fee!
So to our two dear good friends
We hope your friendship never ends
And remains forever well intact
You are the perfect double act
Happy 55th Ped and 60th Stu
We hope we’ll be here to share with you
And have a drink and a bit of a jive
When Stu hits 100 and Ped’s 95!

©Joanne Ross
March 2010

Ah, how my female heart yearns
For those yesteryear times of Rabbi Burns
When men were men, and women fair of face
Objects of desire, if firmly in their place

How would we modern women feel do you suppose
If our men were to liken us to a red, red, rose?
Would our hardened hearts not beat and flutter so
If they called us their Highland Lassie, O?

Could Cupid’s arrow possibly score a miss?
If on our lips our man planted Ae Fond Kiss?
With pleasure would we not nearly die
If his body met ours coming thro’ the rye?

We’d surely be delighted, truth to tell
If affectionately, he called us, handsome Nell
Toward him, how could we vent our spleen
If he held us tight and called us bonnie Jean?

Oh the romantic poet, handsome and so wise
Was no saint and he liked to womanise
But he did it with panache and with charm
And his flattering words kept him out of harm

Sure Rabbi Burns lived way back when
And this, now is of course 2010
So much has changed since Rabbi ploughed the land
If he saw us now would he possibly understand?

In his day he was quite a heavy hitter
But what would he make of Facebook or of Twitter?
Of YouTube, Bebo or the mobile phone
Of never being out of touch, or alone?

Yet many things have really changed so little
Are 21^st century hearts all that more brittle?
We women now expect equality
But we’d surely still go weak at the knee

If our men were just a little less pedantic
Less ‘modern’ and a little more romantic
I know that we have heard them all wax lyrical
Express their love without being satirical

For their sweet beloved lassie right enough
Yes, sometimes our men are made of softer stuff
There’s one of them who’s proven he can care
For the lovely looks of his Becky fair

And another who’s besotted as can be
With his cheeky little minx called Amelie
For one of them there’s never a bad word
About his swift and nifty, funny, sunny bird

And yet another romantic little man
Knows no woman cuts the mustard quite like Toucan
One clearly likes his women rich and hot he
Calls his special lassie his Posh Totty

And another who enjoys some slap and tickle
With a wee fair lass he calls his Lady Pickle
For one lass it might well be a drag
That affectionately she’s called his Scallywag

For another, it is quite plain to see
In his lassie’s arms it’s like a Rhapsody
One of them has such a sense of fun
He likens his lassie to a smoking gun

Magnum, he calls out when he’s fast asleep
With such emotion he could make a woman weep
Some men with their lassies are so elated
That what they call them is truly X-rated

Some are so fickle that before our very eyes
The poor lass Becky got a nasty Surprise!
O, once I lov’d a bonnie lass, Burns wrote
But lads, dear Rabbi didn’t mean his boat!

Yes you’re all full of bonhomie and banter
But could one of you pen for us a Tam O’Shanter?
Most of you could spin us a line
But what could you create for Auld Lang’s Syne?

Ach you may not all be poets, just mere men
And for us lassies you come in useful now and then
You may not all be like dear Rabbi Burns
But a woman loves a man who quickly learns

Girls he may not have fine words right off pat
But you know, a man’s a man, for a’ that
So lassies, raise your glasses now with me
And let’s toast the fine lads of RTYC!

©Joanne Ross
January 2010

To him your fitness is no joke
A gentle touch would make him choke
With exercise he’ll not let you flirt
His regime is cruel and it’s going to hurt!

Get running clockwise round the room
And do not let him see your gloom
This man just feeds right off your pain
He’ll up the reps the more you complain

The man who does one-armed press-ups with ease
Just loves to make you do burpees
The more you hurt, the more he grins
The more you scream, the more he wins

He takes no prisoners, that’s for sure
Your battle for fitness is his war
Like a sergeant on a parade ground
He loves to make you jump around

Press-ups, star jumps, squats and crunchies
You can take him chocolate for his munchies
But even choose his favourite flavour
You still won’t curry any favour

Lunges with weights on the bench
You should hear the way he maligns the French
But politically correct is not his style
At least he slags them off with a smile

And his methods work, no doubt of it
His victims now are pretty fit
So no wonder they’re feeling a bit of stress
What happens to them now is anyone’s guess

It really is quite a disgrace
Coz Andrew’s leaving Vintners Place
He’s legging it as fast as he can
To go and be a fireman

And though they thought that he was cruel
The pupils at his fitness school
Are now he’s going, getting crabby
They’re scared that they will end up flabby

They’ll be sad to see dear Andrew leave
If the truth were known I think they’ll grieve
So we hope in his new job he’ll do well
But remember those he put through hell

If going out and fighting a fire
Is not everything to which you aspire
You could always come back to see your chums
And help repair their saggy bums!

©Jo Wallen Ross
25th September 2009

Of a man who is much loved, who is a special one
Who has a serious side but a wicked sense of fun

Who attracts into his life a most eclectic bunch of friends
To whom he is so loyal that the friendship never ends

He shared his life for many years, with his one great love
Who sadly, was called from him to that resting place above

And ‘though Tony still misses him every single day
He has never let self-pity, stand in his way

He pursues his life with gusto, confronts all that it throws him
Yet always finds the time to help, anyone who knows him

At an age when many people would be curled up by the fire
Tony has so many things, to which he’ll still aspire

At work, his retirement plans, if I may be so bold
Seem to be, I have to say, permanently on hold!

That his expertise and knowledge, are still in such demand
Is testament to just how much respect he can command

For without him, many a surgeon would be caught on the hop
They can’t do without his steady hand to help them make the chop

Though he has been known, some afternoons, to enjoy a good siesta
It’s only to recharge himself for another night’s fiesta

Those half his age would find it hard, at night, to keep up
With this drinking, partying, night-clubbing, fun-loving young pup

Though he loves his life and all his friends he likes to get away
And likes nothing better than, a foreign holiday

His travel tales are legendary and always most amusing
You’ll not believe the sights he’s seen while on the high seas cruising!

Not for him the country pile, the acreage and the aga
He far prefers to sail the seas accompanied by Saga

Yes he has his favourite haunts, to which he’s really loyal
Like Booty’s in Limehouse and Ramsgate Yacht Club, which is royal

And fit for a queen, so no wonder he’s deserved
At RTYC to have his own room reserved

Of course boating is his love, in his eye it puts a gleam
And his home and pride and joy is his own boat, Eagle’s Dream

It’s not always been plain sailing, things sometimes ran amok
And the air turned very blue with him and Trevor in a lock!

He took Eagle’s Dream to Calais, how he got there no one knows
For his compass was a long way out nothing like the compass rose

The trip back it was lumpy and the boat rolled to and fro
Poor Tony spent the crossing with palpitations down below

Until that is the vessel reached the Thames’ own estuary
The waters calmed, the sun came out and Tony rose with glee

To sit upon the poop deck like a passenger on a ferry
Sun on his face and glass in hand, with his favourite tipple, sherry

He thought he’d try the east coast, with his friend, Stuart Carter
But they misjudged the depths, and Stu became a martyr

As the boat tipped slowly over, these two, not the most slender
Had to spend the night, cuddled up in Tony’s tender>

One holiday, he left the sea, for a hotel with a pool
But as he dozed he became the victim of a crime quite cruel

Someone had seized his handbag and without a second thought
Tony leapt up and did give chase, determined the bugger be caught

He fell and copped a bruising but some young firemen gave chase
They returned the bag but more than that, put a smile on Tony’s face

Yes he’s a party boy, a smarty boy, who likes to get about
But be careful not to cross him or you’ll get the Tony pout!

That pout could launch a thousand ships, wither the toughest of men
But it’s always done with tongue in cheek and soon he’ll smile again

So no wonder he’s attracted, so many here today
To help Tony celebrate a very special day

Friends and colleagues, raise your glasses, join me in saying cheers
Good luck, God bless, keep having fun, for another 70 years!!

©Joanne Ross

19^th September 2009

This year we had a staycation
We holidayed at home
Well they say there’s a recession
And it costs too much to roam

It’s all the rage you know
The very latest trend
If you’re running out of money
And the banks don’t want to lend

We went down to the beach a bit
And paddled in the sea
But ice-creams are expensive
And my mum has to buy three

Our friends did have a barbecue
So we all went along
It wasn’t perhaps quite Bondi Beach
But was fun, don’t get me wrong

No we didn’t go abroad this year
In fact we’ve never been
Mum and dad just can’t afford it
It’s not that they are mean

They’ve had one or two problems
They were nearly going to split
I’m glad they’re back together
But it spoiled the hols a bit

Still the summer wasn’t all that bad
I’m grateful for what I’ve got
I even spent one night away
From home on granddad’s yacht

And my brother he came too
Although he can be a pain
But we really had some fun
And at least it didn’t rain

So we didn’t reach Australia
Nor shoot for some far-flung planet
But we really had quite a lot of fun
At home on the Isle of Thanet!!

©Joanne Ross
August 2009

They say everything is for a reason
But sometimes we can’t understand
What on earth the reason could be
Why should something this awful be planned?

A life that just wasn’t to be
Why that is, not one of us knows
But we know that as well as the highs
Life serves us up sometimes real lows

You were hoped for and wanted, wee Maisie
And would have been shown so much love
But this wasn’t your moment to be here on earth
You were called to that place up above

So you won’t this time meet your sweet mother
And you won’t get to smile at your dad
And you won’t have the good things in life
But dear Maisie you won’t have the bad

You’ll never know terror or fear
Childhood illness will bring you no harm
No wars will disturb your peace
No criminals will cause you alarm

So we don’t know just why you’ve been chosen
But you’re safe now sweet Maisie, sleep sound
And know that we all will be waiting
‘Till we meet, the next time around

©Joanne Ross
August 2009

Helen, we don’t know each other well
But you’re a lovely girl, I can tell
You’ve not yet seen a lot of me
But suddenly we are family
I may have left it a little late
Now the horse has bolted, to shut the gate
But I thought I’d pass on as best I can
Some little known facts about your man
And the family you’re now part of too
Since that moment when you said,”I do”
Though he was his parents pride and joy
The young Richard was a ‘cheeky’ boy
A little too bright for his years
He knew how to turn on the tears
Then just as quick the winning smile
His older relatives to beguile
He was mischievous but to those who thought he
Might have been a little naughty
He had an answer; he’d heard his mum say
It was orange juice that made him that way
True, his hyperactivity had medical grounding
But it really was quite astounding
That one so young could compute the prognosis
And come up with his own diagnosis
It should have been an early indication
Of his ultimate vocation
His mother’s maiden name held the clue
To what he ultimately would do
Doctors, how proud they all would be
That at last one of them would become a GP!
The little rascal’s sure done well
A lovely young man now as all can tell
And in Helen he’s really met his match
Yes both have bagged their perfect catch
But Helen, it’s not just the man you marry
It’s his whole, extended family you’ll carry
Did you realise just what you’d be getting?
Just a few hours in are you regretting
Becoming part of the family Cassell?
I hope it won’t prove too much hassle
There’s Susan, your new mother-in-law
A lovely lady, that’s for sure
But did you know her party trick
Is in being very sick?
She loves the fairground but with the best will
The whirling rides do make her ill
Father-in-law, we’ll call him Dave
Is a guy who likes a rave
But although he likes a good party
He’s not as young as he used to be
He still wants to go to town
And thinks he likes to get on down
But now he’s not actually such a young pup
The problem he has is getting back up
Your new husband’s a man like no other
But, I’m afraid, he has a brother
Your new brother-in-law, I’ll call him Sime
But only coz it fits my rhyme
A lovely boy, as a rule
As long as you’re not back at school
Imagine having him as your teacher
D’you think his sense of humour would reach yer?
Would you have got your degree
With a teacher such as he?
It doesn’t end there, there’s uncle Al
I’m sure he’ll be a lovely pal
A weird sense of humour but he’s not to blame he
At least made Sara, Zoe and Aimee
There’s aunts, uncles, cousins galore
Monty, Sheila, Barbara and loads more
Nice people, Helen, don’t get in a tizz
But they have their idiosyncrasies
Now I don’t mean to put you off
The man you’ve married is a toff
And I’m sure you’ll be happy as can be
But you didn’t marry his family
So if you find it all gets too much
Just call me, I can put you in touch,
With a good lawyer, hey, there’s some in the room
I believe they’re related to your groom
If the family on you starts to grate
You could from them just separate
But we hope you won’t, coz we’re all delighted
That on this family you’ve alighted
So I think, what I’m trying to say
Is we’re all so proud to share your day
You’re so well suited, it’s plain to see
We know you’ll be happy as can be
Richard, Helen, the lovely new man and wife
May we all wish you both a wonderful life!

©Joanne Ross

8^th August 2009

To begin with the response was a little bit slow
But then the idea began to grow
A little email from Tommy and Sue
Saying sure, we’d like to come with you
And the flotilla ball began to roll
This lone little fish became a whole shoal
Once a couple of us had actually booked
Others one by one were eventually hooked
Till six boats and twelve very willing crew
Were ready to have a bit of a do

Experience levels they did vary
Take that of Pat and Graham Werry
Boats they love, but poor Pat pales
When she learns that this one has two great sails!
Jackie’s a pro and Geoff couldn’t be keener
But then I get a call from Dena
My old school friend, who’s so demure
Is thinking of coming, but she’s not sure
She’s never spent more than a day on a boat
The chances of loving it are remote
But we do go back a very long way
And in the end loyalty wins the day
Thus twelve motley crew all up for some sport
All wend their way to Gatwick airport
The start of our holiday’s frightfully early
It makes the crew fractious, a little bit surly
Then once the aircraft’s safely down
We make our way to Levkas Town
Which from Preveza is not very far
They drop us off outside a bar

And the thought of an ice-cold Mythos beer
Definitely brings a little cheer
One by one we’re introduced to our yacht
For some, 36ft is a lot
But not for Pat, who’s used to Spruce Goose
She saw Patmos and wanted a noose
For the neck of whoever’d persuaded her to roam
She wanted to turn and flee back home
I though I may too have heard some sobbing
From the yacht of Trish and Robin

He might have been a yacht promoter
If Lonaki had had a second motor!
Though Dena’s Kalamos was no liner
Its stripy fabric suited our designer
Pleasing Tommy and Sue was a breeze
They just asked for the same boat as last year, please
Which left yacht Seafarer for Martin and me
We pretended we owned the whole company
Next morning, we’re off to our very first briefing
We learn about safety and roller reefing

And then we’re let loose, off to Little Vathi
Us six, Lady Dafne and Peter and Kathy
Whose boat name we never did get to hear
But we heard her transmissions loud and clear
Three other boats we hadn’t yet met
And of course our dear lead boat with John and Colette
Stern to mooring, lines ready, now let down the anchor
Left a bit right, John yells without rancour
A group meal and to bed, that’s quite enough fun
The night it is stormy, so much for Greek sun

Tuesday’s forecast, Force 4, or maybe less
From the North, East or West, it’s anyone’s guess
Then we’re off once again, this time to Sivota
We get the sails out coz there’s quite a lotta
Breeze, and our Graham uses winds prevailing
To eschew the old engine and get stuck into sailing
There’s nothing like punch to break the ice
And Colette’s rum concoction was awfully nice
We all start to relax, we’re really quite chilled
By the time all our glasses are refilled

On Wednesday morning I awoke
And a thought dawned that made me choke
When I went to bed I was feeling fine
And I swear I was only forty-nine
But overnight something happened to me
When I opened m eyes I had turned fifty!
A more special day I could not have had
I cannot tell you all just how glad
I was that you all came all this way
To help make so memorable my special day!

The cards and presents began to arrive
Oh, it felt good to be alive
A beautiful necklace from my friend Sue
A wonderful necklace from Dena too
From Pat, a necklace a wonderful surprise
My neck was filling before our eyes
A necklace from Myra, another from Martin
By now my neck muscles are really smarting
Martin’s bought me two more and there’s two from my mum
I’ve a neck full of bling, Ali G and then some

We’re going nowhere as the wind is too high
But the day was a dream, I could almost cry
Breakfast and lunch, cocktails and a dinner
My 50^th birthday was such a winner
Then off to Fiskardo, we’re making a raft
And head into town in our own little craft
A first for Sue Foster, not her favourite pursuit
But the photos in the dinghy are cute
On Friday, John tells us the sailing is free
But alone is a scary place to be

He’s let us off our little tether
But we all got to Spartahori together
And arrive almost one and all
Just as there hits an almighty squall
A frantic half hour then ensued
We hoped Seafarer would not get sued
For damage, but happily in spite of the swell
All came in safely and all were well
Well apart from Geoff’s back, Trevor’s toe and Sue’s head
And Graham’s finger, which kind of bled

Safely round in Vathi were Robin and Trish
So they missed the saga of Martin’s fish
In vain he’d tried to bag a catch
But still he’d had not a snatch
The taverna owner in front of his eyes
Had speared a snapper you could hear Martin’s cries
When Geoff called him a loser and offered a sardine
Martin’s bottom lip trembled, they were all so mean
He’d show them, and went to get his rod
He returned with a fish, the silly…..cod!

Now the week is nigh over, the fleet has returned
I’m sure there’ve been loads of lessons learned
We’ve all had so much fun but excuse my cheek
Think this next one will be a quieter week!
If you hated it sorry, but if you had fun
P’raps we’ll do it again when I’m fifty-one!!

©Jo Ross

June 2009

Privileged, is a word that springs to mind to describe how I feel today
In the after-glow of what has been the most wonderful weekend away

Privileged to have found in life some truly wonderful friends
Who’ve remained a constant strength in life through all its twists and bends

Content, is another feeling seeping over me
These last few days have made me feel I am where I want to be

Unusual, for I’m sure it doesn’t happen as a rule
That five grown women have kept in touch since their early days at school

Amused, it has to be said that we really laughed out loud
Our fun-filled sunny weekend did not have a single cloud

Lucky, that all went to plan without a single hitch
But then with women of our calibre, why would there be a glitch?

Memorable, it surely was in our life a special page
A fitting and a worthy way to mark a very special age

So I’m thankful for your still being there, it’s really good to know
That I have four such fabulous friends as we all hit the big Five-o!!

©Joanne Ross
March 2009