RattleBag and Rhubarb

A Marvelous Remedy for Wanton Vanity of Women

There I was I was minding my own business drinking an early morning cuppa in isolation, socially distanced and hunkered when there was a flash of lightning and a tremendous thunderclap right overhead. Just one, followed a quick pelt of rain. And because I was deep in The Black Death – the way one is in the novelty phase of…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Game of Swans

A group of swans is a wedge when they’re in flight, likely because of the shape a group of swans takes in flight. And while we can call a group of swans a bevy, a herd, a game, or a flight, they can only be a bank when they’re on the ground. Merriam-Webster But there’s more:  a gaggle of swans  a whiteness of swans  a herd of swans…

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Poetry, Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Brexit, Beowulf and the Bum Trumpet

The day after the Brexit referendum our dear leader – then candidate for the presidency – was on his way to Scotland to re-open a golf course. As soon as he landed he tweeted:  The response was fast and furious – an impressive torrent of inventive invective and obscenity that kept Twitter amused for days as the true significance of…

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