Monthly Archives: November 2012

What do you think she’ll say?

When I finally come to ask her,

What do you think she’ll say?

Will she wrap her arms around me

Or turn her face away?

Is there any way of knowing?

Cos my mind’s in such a mess

Whether she’ll say no

Or whether she’ll say yes.


It’s been 4 years and counting

And I think my timing’s right

And I always think about it

And it wakes me in the night

And how do you phrase the question?

Because I really must confess

I really ought to get it right

If she is to say yes.


There’s many ways to do it

You gotta give it thought

Do you drag it out for hours?

Or keep it sweet and short

Do you do it in the bedroom?

Do you do it on a date?

Do it in the morning

Or wait til it gets late?


We’ll I’ve heard it done on aeroplanes

And seen it done on ships

In Michelin star restaurants

Over a bag of chips

You can scream it from the mountain tops

Or whisper in her ear

Do it in the pouring rain

Or wait until its clear.


For me I think I’ll stay at home

And cook her favourite food

Put a record on the player

So to create the mood

I’ll wear my tuxedo

And she will wear a dress

I’ll ask ‘darling will you marry me?’

And I just hope that she’ll say ‘yes’!


(she did!)


Mack and Pritch (I preach to thee)

This is a little poem I penned for two lovely lovely colleagues and friends who are moving on to pastures new.

Way into the distant night, when others’ work is done,

a couple work by candlelight, long after the sun.

An awesome twosome, some might say; some say ‘an institution’,

give ‘em an inch and they’ll do the rest, they could start a revolution.

Nothing these two can’t achieve – dinners, graduations.

Nothing outside their domain, (well, they are Stakeholder Relations!)

May I recount a favourite tale, of these two HE treasures?

T’was Manchester 2010, I thus recount these pleasures.

Whilst at a party conference, you’ll guess it was for Labour,

the Mack turned on the famous charm, so to rope in a favour.

A small request or so it seemed, but it was hard to gauge,

we wound up on the conference front row, ten yards from the stage!

Slightly dazed, we then shook hands with leaders of the day.

As we gazed forth, they stared back, thinking, “Who the **** are they?”

‘Tis just one tale, there will be more, we can’t recount them all,

they’ll go out of their way for you, nothing too big or small.

So say it true, but soft and low, away from prying ears,

their combined effect on UoB, has grown over the years.

No-one’s irreplaceable; their work will carry on,

But I think I’ll miss‘em loads; I’ll know it when they’ve gone.

Car Journey

The tempered road of grey unfolds the endlessness of day

It turns and winds and broken signs they help him on his way

The wind sings long a painful song, the timber trees twist benter

The noise unto his ears can bear it pierces to his centre.


The journey’s end so far yet in his mind he is but there

He sees and smells his hands are pouring through her golden hair

The rain drives down and obstacles are littered in the road

His eyes see a beauty face, the most he’s ever knowed.


Since last they met she may have changed, inevitably true

But he still knows her hair’s still gold and eyes still bottle blue

And can they grasp the moments that they had right from the start?

No change can move the place of her that’s settled in his heart.


The road now is deserted like the time they first did meet

Just them alone with nervous pounds of every heart that beat

Far into the distance is a lonely flickering light

Reminds him of the lantern used that saw them through their night.


A passing car it flashes past, a tear falls from his eye

Reminds him of a flash of pain that nothing can belie

For in a jolt some day long gone a flash appeared so fast

A strangers arm took her hand and thus defined his past.


And many cars are passing now, but there are none to mention

He has no cares for them his heart cannot be brought to question.

And many times he’s tried to recreate that which he has lost

But candles in the winter garden can’t prevent the frost.


But still he drives, he’ll carry on. It’s now or it is never

His ties to her made of a kind that none can truly sever

And if it’s so she’s found a life of happiness and laughter

He’ll turn about and trawl the road to begin his second chapter.