6 weeks in Buxton

Fake ice, fake snow
They'll fake anything don't you know.
Pretty pink blossoms, sprouting daffs
The plastic roses were a bit naff
New born lambs bouncing around
Not a sound
To be heard
But the bleat bleat bleat bleat. Pretty sweet.
Watching sunrise every morn
Wrapping late to catch the dawn, too
Yawn.
My muddy shoes and a bright pink hat
I think I became
Renowned for that.
Ridiculous layers and endless tea
The cold, the wind, the sleet, the rain
To much for me- on the moors
Standing in with my ally
Prince Ed
Turn right, move left, now tilt your head.
"Nobody move there's been a murder"
Was one of Gary's best judged murmers
Of something apt, silly twat!
And I'll never forget Lynn
When she stood in
Mincing along with candlestick and grin
Oh how I laughed!
Oh how I laughed!
Judy and Penny
They come as a pair
Both lovely and smashing and acting with flair
Oh yeah! And Edward's crap wig, the wig that I love
That though hideous and rat-like
Did fit like a glove
He'd lose it then find it
Then don it with pride
Then shove in his pocket to keep safe by his side.
Jane walked 'with a purpose' everywhere it seems
Accross moors, over bridges
Through bog muddy streams
Whilst Rochester cries "Damnation"
In basically every scene
Falling off horses and haunting her dreams.
What's for lunch?!
Well jam roly poly, treacle tart
Apple crumble- and that's just the start!
Bowl of custard to make you feel better
Fruit salad
In a cup
Save it for later.
Rolling, cut, going again, swinging a lens
Quiet please!
We've had to shout a few of these again and again and again and again
Shhhh shhhh shhh shhhh shhut your face please. For once. Thanks.
Haddon Hall how I adored you so
Our last day there
Just did not want to go, no.
Cold cool stones
Dark dusty rooms
And the stunning gardens over which you loom
Wobbly glass panes, green and gold
Venture down corridors but you must be bold.
Ghost hunts; spooky shadows and ominous grunts
Watch your back now, don't get slack now.
Rossshestarr!
Broken car. Two of us on the minibus.
Cocktails at the Monk Bar.
Pizza Express. Simply Thai. St. Moritz.
That Indian Palace where the food was shit.
Nats Kitchen just me and you
And ending up at Level 2. Oh dear!
Old Hall Hotel, I shall miss you, lo!
If you visit Buxton tis the place to go
Oh! And the Opera House of course-
What a fine place to be
Watching Dara O'Brien
On my own, on my billy, laughing silly, just me.
And the Pavillion Gardens were good for a run
With tea rooms and brass bands
And pensioners- loads of 'em
What jolly good fun!
The mission back home seemed never that far
With Tina Turner pumping and shaking the car
Empire of the Sun, Disco massif
Eurythmics too-
Sweet Dreams and Put your loving in my box
I'll sing them for you (If you ask nicely).
Now back in London, I'm feeling quite glum
Missing the fields, the sheep and the sun.
We've a week left to shoot
With plenty to do
Pinewood and Broughton
Are our pastures anew.
And when those days are through
I shall get back to you
For reflection and thought
Of what next I will do.....