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the person who causes me problems isnt some one i know from chat. he knew me in real life. I dont tell chat people anything. its foolish to do so
Customers that seem to think you are thier own personal slave. and ARCHIII!!!!!
Many happy returns mell xxxx
@grotbags wrote:
I think it’s very cliquey in F2.
No one has ever said hello to me in there and I have tried ever so hard to appear to be charming and approachable…to be honest, it’s wearing me down now trying to keep up the pretense :wink:
Seriously, I think it’s just going through it’s regular cycle, every so often it goes dead in there and then a new group of people seem to join and it livens up again…I think that happens in majority of chatrooms and online social places at one time or another.
People come and go, come and go…
it can be sometimes grotbags. next time you come in if i am there i will go out of my way to say hi :) x
@tinks wrote:
@blossom‘ wrote:
@tinks wrote:
I normally chat in f3 but the other night I went in f2 for a change……….there was no bickering or goading and the chat was nice and friendly.
Awwwww…… :wink:
ffs blossom’ stop winking at me you’re makin me nervous
HAHA blossom makes everyone nervous……. kidding
Little Red Cap – Carol Ann Duffy
At childhood’s end, the houses petered out
into playing fields, the factory allotments
kept, like mistresses, by kneeling married men,
the silent railway line, the hermit’s caravan,
till you came at last to the edge of the woods,
It was there that I first clapped eyes on the wolf.
He Stood in a clearing, reading his verse out loud
in his wolfy drawl, a paperback in his hairy paw,
red wine staining his bearded jaw. What big ears
he had! What big eyes he had! What teeth!
in the interval, I made quite sure he spotted me,
sweet sixteen, never been, babe, waif, and bought me a drink,
my first. You might ask why. Here’s why. Poetry.
The Wolf, I knew, would lead me deep into the woods,
away from home, to a dark tangled thorny place
lit by the eyes of owls. I crawled in his wake,
my stockings ripped to shreds, scraps of red from my blazer
snagged on twig and branch, murder clues. I lost both shoes
but got there, wolf’s lair, better beware. Lesson one that
night,
breath of the wolf in my ear, was the love poem.
I clung till dawn to his thrashing fur, for
what little girl doesn’t dearly love a wolf?
Then I slid from between his heavy matted paws
and went in search of a living bird – white dove-
which flew, straight from my hands to his open mouth.
One bite, dead. How nice, breakfast in bed, he said,
licking his chops. As soon as he slept, I crept to the back
of the lair, where a whole wall was crimson, gold, aglow with
books.
Words, words were truly alive on the tongue, in the head,
warm, beating, frantic, winged; music and blood.
But then I was young – and it took ten years
in the woods to tell that a mushroom
stoppers the mouth of a buried corpse, that birds
are the uttered thought of trees, that a greying wolf
howls the same old song at the moon, year in, year out,
season after season, sane rhyme, same reason. I took an axe
to a willow to see how it wept. I took an axe to a salmon
to see how it leapt. I took an axe to the wolf
as he slept, one chop, scrotum to throat, and saw
the glistening, virgin white of my grandmothers bones.
I filled his belly with stones. I stitched him up.
Out of the forest I come with my flowers, singing, all alone.
into playing fields, the factory allotments
kept, like mistresses, by kneeling married men,
the silent railway line, the hermit’s caravan,
till you came at last to the edge of the woods,
It was there that I first clapped eyes on the wolf.
He Stood in a clearing, reading his verse out loud
in his wolfy drawl, a paperback in his hairy paw,
red wine staining his bearded jaw. What big ears
he had! What big eyes he had! What teeth!
in the interval, I made quite sure he spotted me,
sweet sixteen, never been, babe, waif, and bought me a drink,
my first. You might ask why. Here’s why. Poetry.
The Wolf, I knew, would lead me deep into the woods,
away from home, to a dark tangled thorny place
lit by the eyes of owls. I crawled in his wake,
my stockings ripped to shreds, scraps of red from my blazer
snagged on twig and branch, murder clues. I lost both shoes
but got there, wolf’s lair, better beware. Lesson one that
night,
breath of the wolf in my ear, was the love poem.
I clung till dawn to his thrashing fur, for
what little girl doesn’t dearly love a wolf?
Then I slid from between his heavy matted paws
and went in search of a living bird – white dove-
which flew, straight from my hands to his open mouth.
One bite, dead. How nice, breakfast in bed, he said,
licking his chops. As soon as he slept, I crept to the back
of the lair, where a whole wall was crimson, gold, aglow with
books.
Words, words were truly alive on the tongue, in the head,
warm, beating, frantic, winged; music and blood.
But then I was young – and it took ten years
in the woods to tell that a mushroom
stoppers the mouth of a buried corpse, that birds
are the uttered thought of trees, that a greying wolf
howls the same old song at the moon, year in, year out,
season after season, sane rhyme, same reason. I took an axe
to a willow to see how it wept. I took an axe to a salmon
to see how it leapt. I took an axe to the wolf
as he slept, one chop, scrotum to throat, and saw
the glistening, virgin white of my grandmothers bones.
I filled his belly with stones. I stitched him up.
Out of the forest I come with my flowers, singing, all alone.When we first met, I didnt know you would make me fall for you.
You mad me laugh you made me smile, you made me cry too.The time we’ve been together has made our love grow stronger
I’ve known you such a short time, but our connection makes it feel longerI picture us in the future, two pentioners, walking hand in hand
Remembering the old days when we had a naughty roll in the sand.my love for you my darling will never fade away and die.
I will always remember these early days, when you make me laugh, smile and cryxxxx
Pasty now you have admitted to facebook, you know you have to add us all :P
@desmondy wrote:
@rockyblonde23 wrote:
We just need some fresh meat and everything will be fine :) xxxx
Fresh meat? I like the fact that you make Forum2 sound like a butchers shop rocks :D
I think some of the meats gone off to be honest :shock:
Are you saying were all rotten meat des? TUT lol
I dont have a best side, but certain angles look better and natural light is always best for me. Flashes tend to make me look old and washed out :(
