This is my first entry so maybe we should start with an introduction of sorts.
[removes Werther’s Original and clears throat]
I’m Mr Ormsby and thank you very much for dropping by.
I write about the people and events who enter my personal space on a regular basis so that you, the reader, can decide whether or not my views regarding this life are justified. And just so we’re clear: don’t expect it to be in any way accurate or truthful because that’s no fun. In fact, I’ve always taken issue with that Commandment because I feel it restricts the naturally creative among us who, when the occasion calls for it, display a natural flair for embellishment, be it returning swimwear without the receipt or spicing up one’s court testimony.
This year I started teaching in a new school so I haven’t had time to get to know everyone. On top of that, it has been pointed out to me more than once that I have replaced a very popular member of staff who left “before he was ready to go” (I don’t even want to know). This, now I’m only guessing here, might explain the slights I received in the form of gifts from my Secret Santa: a Yankee candle (they know I’m Canadian), a voucher for 10 free tanning sessions (I’m strawberry blond) and Maltesers (choking hazard). It’s the anonymity, of course, which is the appeal of Secret Santa but if I had to wager money on it I’d ascribe this unpleasant undertone to Jerry, our racist librarian. But I digress…
My true love is words: punchy ones, crunchy ones, tricky ones and icky ones.
I love to chew words, then blow bubbles with them until they splat everywhere.
I also love finding the perfect rhyme. To me, and you purists are going to hate this, poetry needs to rhyme. Well, mine does anyway. I mean, could it be worse reading free verse?
See what I just did there?
(they hate that)
In my blog you’ll find humorous poetry, vignettes, characters and outrageous word play along with the odd sober moment.
I hope you laugh ’til you fart.