Photo-a-Day (Saturday, 16th June, 2018)
If only Carlsberg did...
Michael 'snapped' the boat, there tied - once apple green and teal -,
And then perceived across its top Come in and dine with zeal!
My dear lady, kind and fair, I'd seen your door ajar;
And lovely home for all to see, with fare still known afar.
Then take your seat and feel at home, I'll bring my Irish Stew;
A composite of nature's gifts, with grace from Father Hugh.
Your Irish Stew I've loved so much, now see my bike outside,
I charge its battery once a week, which bolsters rural glide.
A 'manly' bike! with panniers two, and medium gloves of latex
But please take care; and mind the bumps, your fan-club wait 'the latest.'
I've seen this boat somewhere else other than at Crooke Mick. And I'm pretty sure I've seen another one somewhere, done up with the Guinness livery. I've also seen quite a few of those orange ex oil rig lifeboats on the canal network recently as well. There's two or three on the Kennet and Avon near Bath, and I saw another one only the other day on the Calder & Hebble around about the Halfax spur section near Salterhebble. If you're wondering why there aren't many comments today, it's because they're all acting daft on yesterday's page.
The captain's fine lines remind me of a rather quirky old film starring Burt Lancaster called The Swimmer, in which Burt swims across L.A. via the ubiquitous pools of the wealthy, chatting,drinking and dining has he goes.
I was wondering how many boats Mick visits during his travels.
May I add Philip that your verse is unmistakable. One knows it's you from one line,in the way one knows Mozart from one bar or the song of the Chaffinch.
Ozy this boats only just been painted, and on the photo its still not finished, it was done using spray can of paint
The Guinness boat was always parked up in Martland mill, then it was in Parbold, Rose bridge and Top lock, since then I not seen it.
BTW I like it not having many comments, it makes me feel more special than I already am.
Poet , I agree entirely with your observation
A word is mine
A voice is a bird
When both join we have music ,
the breath of God
To retreat into ones own , stops the word,
cages the bird , from then , how can the music flow ?
Thanks to Poet, Julie, and, in anticipation of his next 'Photo', Mick.