An Obituary originally printed in the London Times.

The Death of Common Sense

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years.   No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.

He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:

–  Knowing when to come in out of the rain;

–  Why the early bird gets the worm;

–  Life isn’t always fair;

–  and maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don’t spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place.

Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.

It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn’t defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason.

He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers;

– I Know My Rights

– I Want It Now

– Someone Else Is To Blame

– I’m A Victim

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.   If you still remember him, pass this on.   If not, join the majority and do nothing.


The Truth About Smarties

By Hannah Richards

A teenager’s life

is like a box of Smarties.

A colourful variety, yet more or less the same.

Usually they have a hard shell around them,

but when held too long in your hand,

they melt.

Making it out of the box,

can be a good or bad experience.

But the ones who make it out never return;

at least,

never return the same.

Some Smarties have pieces missing.

Chipped, cracked, or crumbled;

Do not toss them aside!

Sometimes it’s the odd ones

that taste the best.

Love between Smarties

comes and goes,

depending on how you shake the box.

While most of them get all mixed up,

there are a select few

that stick together forever.

But then again,

when you’re among Smarties,

there’s no such thing

as forever.

The truth about Smarties

is everyone secretly wants to be a red one.

(You eat the red ones last).

Cherish your Smarties

because before you know it

they’re gone.

11:15 am »

The Cherry Factory

By Hannah Richards

In Norfolk County, the cherry trees grow

Field upon field, row upon row

The fruit smells sweet, but the job is sour

Standing, waiting, nine-fifty an hour.

Bucket after bucket, thirty pounds each

My mind aloof, with thoughts of the beach.



With no days off, for three weeks straight

My frustration grows with every missed date.

Instead, my time is spent on the line

Wishing, hoping, for something sublime.

The foreman passes with an unwinking stare

And forklifts sound off with obnoxious flare.



The label machine stinks of gas and ink,

Dizzying, foul, it makes my heart sink;

To think, I watch thousands of buckets a day

Passing me by, with mind numbing dismay.

Malfunction causes social interaction:

Blow the whistle! Get the boss! Pray for a decent reaction.



In solitude time passes by slow

With nobody to talk to, and nowhere to go.

Water on the floor makes my boots rot

Getting out of here is my happiest thought.

Once queen of the sun, now consumed by cement,

My new persona, the lead malcontent.



Here It Goes Again

Hello dear readers, if you are out there.

After completeing my three month trip of Europe, and blog to boot, I am left wishing I could have continued on doing both; unfortunately, my funds no longer permit the traveling (until further notice).  Fortunately, there is nothing stopping me from creating a “proper” blog.  I say proper because I feel my last one was sloppy at times, and not nearly as fine tuned as I would have liked.  This being attributed to writing most of my posts on my tiny i-Phone screen.

So, here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again.

This time, I hope to bring you much more flaire.  Why vintage?  Personally, I have always been attracted to anything antqiue, and everything vintage, from the early medieval period right up to the swingin’ 60’s. I swear I was born in the wrong decade.

OMG, I almost forgot to mention vintage wine!

Hannah’s in Vintage is dedicated to creating a space where others meandering online can come for a vintage twist of inspiration dealing with a few of my favourite things: fashion, literature and other writing, interior design, and of course, food, glorious food!

As always, your comments are greatly appreciated.

Heart, Hannah.