November 7, 2016

 

 

Tune in to Tony’s Time Machine

‘Birthday’ Show on

Wednesday  9th November

11am – 1pm

Tony will be on top form

 

with Vikki at the helm

pouring the Champers. 

 

Enjoy lively chat & great music.

and recordings from Bury Song Writers Group

and an insight into Tony’s recent travels to Spain.

and music in the birthday memory of Glen Frey

 

and a poem written by Poet – Harriet Blackbury.

 

November 2, 2016

 

 

and Winston called

en-route to the river,

a morning welcome

to deliver.

That Golden Retriever

from across the way –

a trusted pal became

from the first day.

 

and Penny came by

every now and then-

the name we christened,

a very cute pea-hen,

who visited from

Harcourt Arboretum

at Nunenham Courtenay,

looking for a crumb.

 

And next door’s cat-

a fluffy ‘black and white’,

in her magnificence

appeared at daylight.

Our Siamese boys

always the first to see

her prompt arrival,

would then alert me.

 

and our ageing Setter,

when turning grey,

lived out his life

in the best way,

with daily walks

along Sandford Lock-

a place we still re-visit

when taking stock,

 

of the dreaming spires

and seats of learning,

and autumns bliss,

when leaves were turning.

Though short lived was

to be our stay-

A place in our hearts,

Oxford, to this day.

 

A life lived through animals

who came and went.

Everyone a gift

from heaven sent.

The joy of nostalgia-

that two-edged sword.

A constant reminder

life shouldn’t be ignored.

 

 

 

 

October 30, 2016

 

 

The truth of the matter,

when coconuts fall –

if you’re stood underneath,

then no life to recall.

 

 

 

 

Oh animals

that came and went,

some by chance

and never meant

 

to live indoors –

domesticated,

sharing abode –

sophisticated.

 

Oh animals

never turned away-

all cats and dogs

please step this way,

 

and make your stamp

and presence felt,

and prove your worth,

as hearts you melt.

 

Oh animals

pass on the word

that on the grape-vine

you have heard,

 

a ‘grooming service’

at your disposal,

exchanged for love –

a fair proposal.

 

Oh animals

quickly join the queue,

that keeps on gathering

down yonder view.

 

Such luxury

you’ve never known.

Inside and outside beds

to call your own.

 

Oh animals

that came and went,

and all in,

their element,

 

lived out their days,

and remembered still,

as new arrivals come

and always will.

 

Oh animals

that went astray,

in our minds so close,

to this very day.

 

and if you’re still out there-

Splodge –  just running free,

your Mum and brother waiting

by your favourite tree.

 

 

 

October 25, 2016

 

 

Everyone’s favourite and 60’s Icon –

America’s Bobby Vee, was loved by all.

He bounced into the charts in 61

with his first UK hit ‘Rubber Ball’.

 

‘Also in 61, four more Top 10 songs included –

‘Take Good Care Of My Baby’ at No.3,

And ‘Run To Him’ in December,

A Christmas hit proved to be.

 

‘Please Don’t Talk About Barbara’

and ‘Sharing You’ – hits in 62,

and ‘A Forever Kind Of Love’,

in the charts of this year too.

 

In 63, another song to captivate us,

was ‘The Night Has A Thousand Eyes’,

reaching as high as Number 3

 – this Star did mesmerise…

 

And fittingly ‘Bobby Tomorrow’ –

his last hit of 63.

Though christened Robert Velline,

to us, he’ll always be Bobby Vee.

 

Thank You for the music –

Rest In Peace   (1943 – 2016)

 

 

 

 

 

Tune in to

Tony’s Time Machine

Wednesday 26th October  & Wednesday 2nd November

11 am – 1pm

for a great mixture of Music & Chat.

featuring

Ramsbottom Festival artists

(Gorilla Riot and The Sound Of Sirens).

and also

Tony’s exclusive Interview with

Steve Howe of ‘Yes’ fame.

 

Tony will also be chatting to

Sam Priestly (Director of Creative Support)

with trusted  Station Manager – Vikki Snowden

at the Helm. 

and

there will be a reading

of ‘Fruit Rap’

written by Poet

Harriet Blackbury.

October 22, 2016

 

 

and two or three

or maybe four,

passed by this way

in days of yore.

 

Some stopping off

as travellers do.

To re-fuel tanks

before saying adieu.

 

and five or six

or seven more,

in intervals

knocked at the door.

 

Some getting in

as travellers do,

unless ‘No vacancy’

sign on view.

 

and eight or nine

or even ten;

all sad and lonely

weary men.

 

Some spinning yarns

as travellers do,

whilst selling wares-

rest overdue.

 

and eleven or twelve

or memorable thirteen,

down on his luck,

without a bean.

 

Some sob story given

as travellers do –

A bed in the shed

where rhubarb grew.

 

and fourteen or fifteen

and sixteen, I recall.

Arriving with two trunks

dropped in the hall.

 

Some magician of sorts,

he said, was he,

with an able assistant –

as fit as a flee.

 

and seventeen or eighteen

or nineteen, I did greet,

feeling it was time,

to put up my feet.

 

Some rest needed

from the hotel lark.

Time had taken it’s toll –

I was losing my spark.

 

Good job that twenty’s key,

fitted like it should:

Home Sweet Home, a blessing;

returning back for good.

 

Some loving comfort needed;

his timing spot on.

The door firmly bolted

now we two back as one.

 

 

 

 

and the bid for drunkenness exalted,

with a bag of crisps, so lightly salted,

 

and then before we say adieu,

we make a move on a sweet cashew.

 

Then, down the street, in the next bar,

we raise ‘good health’ with another jar,

 

and wash it down, with some pork scratchings,

as fat in arteries forms new attachings.

 

Then ‘one for the road’, the road to hell,

when ‘Last orders’ heard from that demon bell.

 

As steps retraced, are now updated,

and centuries of gold nectar, still appreciated.

 

 

 

 

It’s a clause

in the contract;

a codicil

of love.

A passage

to freedom,

and ultimately

a deal breaker.

Sign on the

dotted line –

I don’t think so!

 

 

 

 

Let’s meet and talk mumbo-jumbo,

and put the world to rights.

Let’s yap until our throats dry,

about nothing until dawn lights.

 

Let’s skate around the houses,

and up and down the alleyways,

without revealing anything obvious,

that on our cautious tongue stays.

 

Let’s have a drink, then another,

and one more to make memory flee,

until we forget if we’ve done what we came for,

so another guilt trip, there won’t be.

 

 

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