Upward Bound…

I was sitting at the buh us stop,
One stop, but couldn’t be arsed to walk to top ooo ooo
On a tour? No, Spar Shop, got carrier bag in pocket and a fiver in my hand ooo ooo
Driver behind protective screen is darkly tanned wants one-fifty in his hand ooo

Upward bound
I was, I was
Upward bound

Shop, she wants spuds for baking
Shop, maybe get some cake in
Shop, where the cashier’s taking
My last three fifty from me

On journey had a short daydream
For the cake should I get some cream?
Single? Double? S’the same to me, Carnation’ll be satisfactory
Cholesterol danger I can’t see, sack those furred up arteries

Upward bound
I was, I was
Upward bound

Shop, she said get spuds for baking
Shop, and get some cake in
Shop, where the cashier’s raking
My last three fifty from me

Tonight I’ll have baked spuds at ten
Four hours in the ov, ov en
With beans ’n cheese ’n butter see, the basest gastronom’eee
Yes ten is where I want to be, comfort eating, not writing this parody—ooo ooo yum yum



For my son Sam this; I ad-libbed it earlier, have tried to firm it up

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Museworthy Man

Typically atypical man from Manchester with aspirations that'll never/maybe/could one day be realisations :-D

35 thoughts on “Upward Bound…”

  1. “With beans ’n cheese ’n butter see, the basest gastronom’eee” – I’m liking the extra e’s at the end, and – the ‘basest’ has me laughing too. Could have been ‘the’ basting’ gastronom’eee’, but only if the grub had included roasties, and that wouldn’t have been as funny anyway. I’m guessing Sam laughed quite a bit too. *smiles*

    – esme a fan of the odd yum yum herself upon the Cloud

  2. Ha, extra ee’s brought into play to shoe-horn the thing into half-rhyming shape.
    A cop-out equivalent of la la la’s—oo, yeahs in a song. ^ a fun bit of fast an loose this effort eh.

    It’s hard to make Sam laugh but I managed it. A mark of approval—yay.

        1. Oh, there’s no way he’s ‘one of us’ – he’s far, far too erudite for that – no offense to the occasional pick of the litter here, but it’s rare. (Laughing in cold silence like a fridge … omg, Hariod, you’ve outdone yourself now, in my imagination …)

          Okay, so might as well finish with my comment for ‘im here – Muse, I’m enthralled that you wrote this little ditty – I’ve long wondered if yours truly *could* write song lyrics, but I’d rather sing and play somebody else’s, when it comes to it … I’m a bit of a clipper, couldn’t likely sit with the oooo’s and aaaah’s necessary to flushing the thing out – too much eye-rolling in the wings, so I leave that to you. I am so glad you made a little side comment to mine on Esme’s and that I discovered you for myself. The day is getting far too short for the excellent reading on WP these days, but I’m glad. Aloha.

          1. With songs, in the round, yes I agree, singalong trumps ‘make your own’. For there’d be a bit of getting it out there and getting it remembered necessary to gather some singalongees ( or one sings alone). I cheated with the Paul Simon p̶a̶r̶o̶d̶y̶ ̶ pastiche and rode on the catchiness he’d created.

            I’m glad you’re glad you discovered me btw and doubly so given your field and cachet; my self promotion blog-wise is terrible on account it’s semi-intentionally dissuasive (the right kind of reader required). Pssst, you’re follower four in three years. I’ll double-check but I, me, myself may even be no. 3!

  3. I sure am Sir, to realise the ise’s have it, albeit *whispers* us Brits had them other ‘ize’s first. I’m figuring the setting for Death Valley and ‘Penny’s vernacular’ may have had you think me an over the pondite? Remiss of me to inform at the time.

    Replying by the way with the unconditional condition you enlighten me of yourself a smidge? Quite the mystery to me. Would silver beard be right? You certainly demonstrate the wisdom.

    1. Can’t stand all those bloody zees, and I assiduously eradicate them from everything Word and WordPress ‘correct’ me on. Appalled to see the dictionary bods up at Oxford continuing with them, though yes, we were indeed first to commit that great sin. That hardly forgives their emulation!

      Yes, as a newcomer here – at the invitation and wise recommendation of Ezme – I had only seen your Stateside themed pieces. Funnily enough, I also assumed her to be a septic tank upon first encounter. And yes again, fellow shunner of the zee, I am indeed an oldie – 93, in fact, as far as I recall. Not silver-bearded though, nor bearded at all in the lofty extremities. Any small amount of wisdom (how on earth was such detected by you?) has been very recent in accrual, and mainly resultant from my acquaintance with the aforementioned yum-yum appreciator, whatever such delicacies may be.

        1. From yum yum to yum to tum to bum. That route and departure from the latter preferred over the alternative ‘straight to the hips’ which tends to be that less than delicate delicacy’s sinister mission. The pic has made me salivate mind.

          1. Eat enough and you’ll end up coated, expanding perfectly in scale barring eyeballs, ears and, hmm… fingers, that’s the dead giveaway. *nods*.

            “delicate delicacy’s sinister mission.”- this is sweeter than the treats, darker too, I keep unintentionally adding ‘decadent’ in the middle to fatten it. *smiles and has a bit of icing*.

            – esme of Yum Cloud fame

      1. Thank you for sharing and I hope Esme’s recommend has been worth it. I can’t promise any ‘enwisenment’ nor consistency with this blog alas. You’ve likely noted the subject matter can be very changeable. Sometimes an emotional outlet, sometimes a stream of thought, others a vessel for a story or two. It’s a long process trying to reach a standard I’ll be content with—it’s my own discipline mereckons that brings the progress. Granted slow, but who knows; I may be able (given a few millennia) to please all of the people for a fraction of their time without too much compromise regarding my art. Just need some of those magical smoothies you’ve been drinking Hariod!

        1. Oh, a pleasure to be here, most certainly, Museworthy Man, and consistency can be so very dull in blogs, don’t you think? I read your ‘about’ page earlier, by the way, and thought it perhaps the finest I’ve yet encountered in my two years’ blogging. You’re quite right to refer to your efforts here as art, if I might arrogantly presume myself qualified to make such a statement. One final question, how best do you wish to be referred to as?

          1. It is the best I’ve seen to date.

            I wax lyrical with a microfibre cloth on the piece here Hariod –


            And he almost won the ‘Best ‘About’ in the Universe’ at ‘The Cloudies 2014’


            But was pipped to the post by myself. The Cloud assured me there was no bias on its part on the Judge’s panel mind you. Esme is straight as a die…probably. *laughs*

            – esme nodding upon the Cloud

          2. Exemplars both! Paragons of . . . er, . . . about-ness! You saw off some stiff competition, dear lady.

            *offers her a huge yum yum to beat off all-comers*

          3. I can confess, I guess, to being a James down here at the tip of a comment tail (quite shy of (the wrong kind of) limelight). I live a stone’s throw from the infant Mersey River twixt Manchester and Lymm. Um, am married with sprites who though aren’t as sprite in size as they are spritely in character; they’re all in higher education now.

            Thanks for The ‘about’ compliments — yes, I was quite pleased with it. Still am ; I was worried it may have been too much an indulgence and too strong a filter for any visitors. It’s succeeded though in pulling the right kind of crowd. 🙂

            I’m in and out of your blog a fair bit btw Hariod. It’s inspirational.

          4. Aha, well I shall continue to refer to you as Museworthy Man (MM?) given your understandable preference for privacy. I lived briefly at Padgate, back in the fifties, and wouldn’t be at all averse to returning to your region, having spent the interim mainly in the South. I’ve moved around a lot, after having worked from some years in London, all the while seeking to escape areas of gentrification, and currently being based in a bit of a no-man’s-land some short hop from Glastonbury. My grandchildren live 100 miles away, for now, but I’ve rather given up the idea of following offspring around the country, so my future destinations can be free of such biological fetters. I don’t think city life would suit me any longer, though I do miss the cultural aspects of London.

            Many thanks for your kind and generous words on my own writing efforts, MM, though there’s no attempt at art being made, which effort would be futile for me to pursue, and as must be obvious to you. The creative limits I might reach are all too apparent when I read offerings such as yours, or Esme’s, or Matty’s – another recommendation from yum-yum land. My writing, insofar as being a creative endeavour, is akin to my past attempts at music-making – mediocre. I gave up the latter pursuit having realised the last thing the world needed was more mediocrity in music. I may well come to the same conclusion as regards writing. We’ll see.

      2. Hahahahaha! I didn’t realise you were so surprized at all those ‘z’s’ … likewise, I, myself always sit up and take notice when I see words softened by the ‘s’ (instead) … xoxoxo

  4. I see no fault in what you write and the way you write it, save for being too humble with your after-mentions. Heaven help us scribes should you improve! Seriously. Your May post, line 6 through the following paragraph, I see as prime example of how to write. • < that black dot there is actually a black hole that's gulped all the superlatives I gush-fawned out. Any other stories like that; you'd have a lifetime fully paid up subscriber.

    Composure regained.

    My dalliances with London have been of the passing through kind, although I did stop in Bayswater for a short time once—saw the wares of the ‘Road Artists’ there which was/were quite memorable. Mainly though London has been a hub where through bus or train window I see life at a pace too ostensibly frenetic for me. An odd notion really as, if I had a moment to introspect, I’d see my lot here dense with activity. Though not as dense as •

    MM’s great btw, not wanting to sound pretentious—think Esme coined me with that moniker. It’s a very slick deal on the keyboard too. 🙂

  5. You can both call me esme. *nods*

    “The creative limits I might reach are all too apparent when I read offerings such as yours, or Esme’s, or Matty’s ” …

    ‘There once was a grey-beard from Lymm, (approximate, don’t quibble)
    Who no soul could ever call dim.
    He got caught by the fuzz,
    As he sat on the buzz, (accent)
    Cos his bard was more out than twas in.’

    *bows, apologises to said sprites and the misses, then pegs it, faster than usual*. – e.u.t.C

        1. I did, but I am versed in that which is abstract to many, yet seems perfectly normal to one (a right one), or two. Sharp MM. *nods*

          ‘Esme La Bum-Bum’ – I’ll be honest, I’m not so keen on this nickname, blimey, but I do appreciate the yummage. *nods again – great nodder that she is*

          – esme upon the Cloud a fan of long rambling comment threads pointing out that the anonymous limerick post is still open for submissions. By the by. Don’t be shy. (points at both of them) *laughing*

    1. Pardon the intrusion, but just to be clear, my ‘Sunday’ was no deadline, MM, as I gather Esme’s leaving time for us all. Come on now, two saucy limericks – how hard is that for a man of your creative talents?

    1. *mollification ensues.* Thank heavens the shackles didn’t need to be broken out. *smiles a smile just as bright as the sun*

      – esme enjoying the view from upon the Cloud

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