So as to enhance his street cred,

My Vin got himself a new shed:

Defence shutting out the world’s strife,

Life’s irritations – and the wife …

He beamed with elation and glee,

Then grabbed his transistor*, made tea

And, with the cry: “The match is on,

The Spurs are playing!”, he was gone.

And then for hours, from within,

There issued most enormous din

As Vinnie whooped and wailed and yelped,

Oh how I wished I could have helped

But did not enter (not that brave):

The sign that guards the shed? Man Cave!

*Radio

British passport – what a prize!

It’s your birthright, lucky guys,

But, to aliens such as me,

It’s as precious as can be,

So I greatly cherish mine,

Which does make me feel so fine

(More so as I am quite skittish),

I’m thus loving being British;

This is why I, with great pride,

Share my status far and wide

Half-expecting a huge cheer;

Enter Ian*, who’d appear

On my walks from time to time

Undertaking the odd climb

(You remember? He’s the guy

Who has rubbished my mince pie);

Ian, hearing me thus boast,

Looked as if he’d seen a ghost:

“British passport? You?? How come???”

What a bummer – and then some:

His demeanour was so shocked

That my world just shook and rocked;

How much more of toil, sweat, grit

Till they see me as a Brit????

*I am very fond of Ian, by the way. He has a fabulous sense of humour and is great fun to be around. Although we tease each other, it’s all done in a friendly and playful manner. I’m saying this because he thought he had offended me by his incredulity; in fact, I found his reaction absolutely hilarious. No hard feelings, Ian, I hope.

A keen fellwalker having the good fortune to be surrounded by breathtakingly beautiful mountains, I lead a fabulous walking group called the Roamers. Well, at least I try to lead them – but sometimes I do manage to lose some of them. As on that infamous occasion at Easter when traffic was heavy, our parking spot had been unexpectedly blocked and my mobile decided to die on me. Unable to communicate with the drivers of several other cars in our group, I contrived to lose one vehicle with its precious cargo of four Roamers. So much for my being a leader …

If you heard my moans and groans,

They were all about the cones,

Traffic cones – I kid you not –

Blocking our parking spot;

With no parking to be found,

We drove round and round and round,

All five cars – and all spread out –

Nightmare, without any doubt;

With my mobile on the blink,

I was flustered, couldn’t think

(You go into panic mode

When you’re missing a car-load);

We then started our hike

Without John, Rose, Pam and Mike;

You could not – not if you tried –

Find a soul as mortified

As I was, but I must say

It was John who saved the day!

Sage and with a brilliant mind,

Our John’s one of a kind:

On his gizmo, also smart,

Our route he did – yes! – chart

And, with deftness and no fuss,

Led his party straight to us!

Dearest John, believe you me:

In your debt I’ll always be;

Your computing expertise

Has now put my mind at ease

‘Cos I know that, with your aid,

Roamers cannot get mislaid!