Oh Heavens, Why On Earth Did I Follow That Blog? – 2

Some while ago I wrote a post explaining some of the reasons why I might occasionally choose to un-follow a blog. Surprisingly, it seemed to strike a chord with a great many readers, and has been my most popular post so far. The link is here if you wish to have a look.

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I thought I’d write a follow up post today, outlining a couple more reasons I might choose to un-follow a blog, or why I might decline to follow it in the first place.

Several times I have been sent invitations to follow a site I have never heard of. The owners of these sites have never had the manners to visit mine, or if they have they have not had the courtesy to acknowledge this in any way. The first I have known of their existence is a WordPress email inviting me to follow them. I will not be visiting their sites, never mind following them.

I have a couple of followers who have followed me, but only ever leave comments that invite me to follow their sites. Again, I shall not visit, for that is just bad manners.

This happens on other antisocial media sites, of course. I get terribly annoyed when someone I’ve barely come across messages me and says ‘I’ve just liked your page, come and like mine’. Er, no. Not until you learn some manners.

Then there are those bloggers who follow me, but only visit me after I have been on their site and left a ‘like’ or a comment. Instantly, they then visit for the first time in a month and ‘like’ three or four (or even more!) posts in the space of a few seconds. There is no way they could have read these posts in that time, of course. It is possible they think they are being polite by doing this, but I’m afraid it feels they only care about getting traffic to their sites.

I would imagine most people blog because they want their posts to be seen and read. Some ‘collect’ likes and followers, but most of us don’t (I do admit I am chuffed when I get a visitor from a fresh country, though, and therefore get a ‘new’ flag on my list!).

And I am extra double chuffed with fresh cream on top and little sprinkles of pure chocolate with the dozens of fantastic bloggers I have got to know since I first joined in with this lunacy a couple of years ago!

Despite the moaning, it was a great decision.

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Prayer Flags

Prayer flags are found wherever Tibetan Buddhism is found. As they flutter in the breeze, they use this wind to send blessings out into the world. Through many parts of the Himalaya they adorn monasteries and humble homes, chortens and bamboo flagpoles. They are tied in their hundreds and thousands to bridges, above mountain peaks, and in the courtyards of every conceivable building.

Elsewhere, they are to be found wherever exiled Tibetans live, and wherever their school of Buddhism flourishes.

The makers of the flags intend the prayers and blessings that adorn them not for their own benefit, but for the benefit of all beings.

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Prayer flags in the Yumtang Valley, Sikkim, India.

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Prayer flags, Observatory Hill, Darjeeling, India.

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Prayer flags outside a monastery in Sikkim, India.

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Prayer flags adorn a pair of chortens and walls of prayer wheels in Khumjung, Nepal.

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Prayer flags at Tengboche, Nepal.

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And adorning a bridge of the Dudh Khosi, again in Nepal.

A Christmas Carol – 3

All good things come in threes, it is said. Unfortunately, so do these.

Bah, humbug!

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God help you merry gentlemen,

If what you want is rest.

There’s not a chance of getting that,

For you’re off on a quest.

To fill your bags with goods galore

And booze to fuel the Fest.

So it’s tidings of Mammon and cash

Mammon and cash,

So it’s tidings of Mammon and cash.

 

Now in the town, you’ll find a store

Like none you’ve ever seen.

It’s filled with crap piled on the floor

Right up to the roof beam.

And you must buy a load of this

Or else we’ll think you’re mean.

So it’s tidings of Mammon and cash

Mammon and cash,

Yes, it’s tidings of Mammon and cash.

A Christmas Carol – 2

Another attempt at perverting rewriting a Christmas carol for 2017:

(Bob has a lot to answer for!)

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Once in Royal Tunbridge Wells

Stood a lowly shopping mall.

Where a horde of frenzied shoppers

moved like locusts through it all.

Searching for their Christmas loot,

Trampling others underfoot.

 

Finding bargains at the poundshop,

Cheap old tat that falls to bits.

Plastic toys all made of poison,

Tiny parts to choke their kids.

And the Christmas Trip will be,

An ambulance to A & E.

 

Spending fortunes on their own folk,

Presents that could sink a ship.

One month’s food to last just two days

Enough booze to float that ship!

Heed the message of our song,

Selfish greed just can’t be wrong!

 

 

A Christmas Carol – 1

I haven’t seen much of Bob, recently.

To be fair to Bob, he’s been rather busy. But he came round to my house the other day. Well,  the other evening, really. He was carol singing. And it was only just December.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ I asked him. He look puzzled.

‘Carol singing, of course. Why?’

‘Why? It’s only just turned December, that’s why.’

‘Well, all the shops have their decorations up now.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘And some have had, for the last few months.’

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‘True, but…’

‘And they’re all playing Christmas songs.’

‘Unfortunately true…’

‘And half the kittens on social media are dressed in red and white and chasing Christmas baubles around on the floor and then batting them with their cute little paws…’

‘Stop it, Bob!’

‘So why can’t I go round carol singing?’

‘Because there’s only one of you and it sounds awful!’

‘Oh…sorr…eee!’

‘And what are you collecting for?’

‘Huh?’

‘That tin you’re rattling. What’s it in aid of?’

‘Our Christmas lunch.’

‘Bob! You can’t do that! You’re supposed to be collecting for charity!’

‘Am I? Who says so?’

‘I…er…I don’t know. You just are, that’s all.’

‘Well, I’m collecting for our Christmas lunch!’ He rattled the tin meaningfully towards me. ‘Silent Night…’ he began again, his voice rising suddenly about two and three sevenths octaves. I shuddered. The kittens left their baubles and ran for cover. ‘Holy Night!’

‘Shut your bloody racket!’ Came my neighbour’s voice – slightly muffled, but carrying a clear threat of violence.

Bob left quickly.

 

In other years, I’ve written a few short stories for Christmas, but not this year.

Bob has inspired me to re-imagine a few Christmas Carols for the twenty first century.

Here is the first one.

Strident night,

Angry night,

Down cheap booze,

Get into a fight.

Punch and scratch and kick and bite.

Tell the other bloke he’s just a shite.

Sleep in a prison cell…oh!

Sleep in a prison cell.

For those of my readers who do consider Christmas to be a holy festival, I must point out that these little offerings are intended as my rant against the excesses and the commercialisation of Christmas today. I hope you will not take any offence, for none is intended!

Tengboche – 1

Tengboche is a monastery complex and a couple of trekking lodges on the route up to Everest Base Camp from Lukla, in Nepal. It sits high above the waters of the Dudh Khosi.

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Inside Tengboche monastery following a puja (ceremony).

Rightly or wrongly, I don’t like taking photographs of pujas in monasteries. It feels intrusive and bad mannered. I would feel the same in a church, mosque or temple. This has nothing to do with any beliefs of my own, but is born of simple respect.

I noted in my diary: We have just sat in on a chanting puja, but my meditation failed dismally. I was completely unable to concentrate on my breath as all that I could think of were my freezing feet!

It was blooming cold!