Uptight women, Chanel suits, fluffy little handbag dogs?

I went to the Free Verse Poetry Book and Magazine Fair in April 2024, looking for options for self-publishing. Meandering through the stalls, I spotted a book with a jacket that looked like the flag of Monaco; red strip at the top, white strip at the bottom. On closer inspection, I discovered it was a novella titled Monaco, by Juliet Jacques. Well, I know a bit about the Principality, so of course I bought the book.

Change is inevitable

Isabel Colegate's The Shooting Party gives away the end of the story on the first page: "It caused a mild scandal at the time, ... an error of judgment which resulted in a death." The book then describes events leading up to the incident, which takes place a few months before the outbreak of WW1, when Sir Randolph invites a group of privileged people to take part in a shoot at Nettleby Park. The old-fashioned peer has "all but bankrupted the estate" to entertain the late King.

It's Friday, it's five to five...

I must have been watching BBC's Crakerjack! aged six or seven, but all these years later, if someone says "It's Friday", my next thought is always, "It's five to five". So here's Friday's verse a triolet celebrating a kids' telly programme.

It's Friday night, it's five to five,
it's Crackerjack!
Oh what a time to be alive;
it's Friday night, it's five to five,
and on TV, a party vibe.
Hear that 'crack'-ing word? Shout back!
It's Friday night, it's five to five,
it's Crackerjack!

This is Thursday

The 1970s, IMHO, was the best decade for music, and you could get it all on Top of the Pops on Thursday evening.

Every teen in 70s Britain
on Thursday evenings would be sitting
at half past seven, in front of the box,
eagerly anticipating Top of the Pops.

Wednesday: half-day closing

Here's my verse for Wednesday.

Before the birth of the online store
buying goods was quite a chore,
and woe betide the afternoon shopper
who, mid-week, might come a cropper
'cos many a town across the country
had half-day closing, every Wednesday.

Not much to say about Tuesday

I thought I might as well write a rhyme for Tuesday too. Here's a Tuesday limerick:

Here's Tuesday, there's not much to say;
its child in the rhyme's full of grace.
With a spiritual bent,
the last before lent
is for pancakes and stuffing your face.

Monday starts the working week...

A lttle senior rhyme to start off the week:

Monday starts the working week
but not for senior retirees
whose waking thoughts are nearly always
"another day, but which one is this?"