Wahing days

Hi everyone, I hope Wednesday is going well for you.

It's been a busy day, catching up on the inevitable office work, accounts etc, but as the weather was bright this morning I thought I had better wash the two quilts I acquired last week. Sadly the couple of marks on them didn't wash out, but they certainly look fresher and I am sure will sell fairly well.  They are now spread on the maiden in the spare bedroom finishing drying and airing out nicely.  When I gathered in the washing today and yesterday I was wafted back several years to when my children were small and had been playing outside on dry autumn days, remembering the delightful aroma that came back inside with them of autumn days, conkers and toffee apples.  It was this aroma that was encapsulated in my laundry as I brought it inside and reminded me of such delights. I love to see the clothes blowing on the line, the arms and legs filling with invisible limbs by the wind waving and kicking in delight as they fly whilst held securely by their pegs.  It used to be that my mother always did her laundry on a Saturday, getting uniforms ready for the next weeks school, and I loved helping peg the clothes on the line, and helping my grandmother who lived in a annexe to our home using the mangle to squeeze out the excess water from her hand washed items, I don't think she ever had a washing machine and certainly didn't use ours, even though it would have saved her masses of time.  But then time was not an issue, there was plenty of it and you used it as and when you wished, not like now where time is at a premium and every second must be used not wasted.  Thats one of my reasons behind my musings, that I sit and contemplate the delights of my life and share those with people who may be interested, literally picking up the threads and bringing the important memories back to the fore not left in a heap in the corner.

Still that's enough from me, I will be back again tomorrow,thank you joining me and please have a wonderful day wherever in the world you are.

Siwzy

Laundry

BY RUTH MOOSE

All our life

so much laundry;

each day’s doing or not

comes clean,

flows off and away

to blend with other sins

of this world. Each day

begins in new skin,

blessed by the elements

charged to take us

out again to do or undo

what’s been assigned.

From socks to shirts

the selves we shed

lift off the line

as if they own

a life apart

from the one we offer.

There is joy in clean laundry.

All is forgiven in water, sun

and air. We offer our day’s deeds

to the blue-eyed sky, with soap and prayer,

our arms up, then lowered in supplication.

Hello everyone and welcome to a bright sunny day in Cardiff, hope everything is well with you.

I had a lovely walk to the village this morning, all sunny and crisp, leaves lying in a patchwork of browns and golds on the grey pavement sun reflecting on them, absolutely glorious.  The leaves reminded me of an Eva Cassidy song see below, probably one of my favourite singers, but then I have so many , like poets, I don't know which one to choose.  Eva's music and renditions of popular songs as well as her own compositions are wonderful and can be a constant companion to me, if you get the opportunity listen to her, a lot of her work was recorded live on her tours for private use by her parents and released after she died from cancer to raise money for cancer charities in the states.  She was discovered in the uK by the late Paul Walters (producer for Terry Wogan) and I understand it was he who persuaded her parents to release them as albums.    It is sad how much talent is lost to death at such an early age.  

We are fast approaching Halloween and I should be stocking up for the hungry trick or treaters that may appear at my door, should I bake them brownies or buy sweets, having lived in the rural countryside in the last 30 years I am not sure what to expect and whether our road will attract many youngsters, I think a box of sweets will do!  All we did as children was hollow out a swede and put a candle in it, never went out or had parties to celebrate the occasion  which is in fact All Hallows Eve, and not a dedication to ghosts, mummies or witches, but a celebration of all those lives that have passed.  

On that note as I pick up my beasom and fly off into the night, I wish you all a goodnight wherever in the world you are, and thank you once again for joining me.  

Siwzy

"Autumn Leaves" (sung by Eva Cassidy from the French lyrics by Jacques Prévert, English lyrics by Johnny Mercer, )

The falling leaves
Drift by my window.
The falling leaves of red and gold.

I see your lips,
the summer kisses,
the sunburned hands I used to hold.

Since you went away
the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter song
But i miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall

Since you went away
the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter song
But i miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall

I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall

Storm clouds gather

Good morning all, I hope you  all had a wonderful weekend, even if we in Britain were preparing for the worst storm in 25 years, for some it may well have been absolutely awful but I think for most according to the news, or lack of it, the storm passed with little consequence. My thanks to Alistair Muir from Kettering Northamptonshire for his inspiring poem below.  A new poet to me and one I shall be looking at more closely as he writes a lot about nature in all it's awe and beauty, a subject close to my heart.

We had a fairly uneventful weekend, pottering, me dealing with household chores and finishing the knitting the cardigan, sewing up all that is required now; better half cleaning up the head of the MG engine he is restoring, an intensive wash in the dishwasher helped no end and I have to say left no nasty residue, my thanks to Mark Evans British TV car restorer for that tip! Indian grand prix watched and Australian Masterchef watched, if you haven't watched this give it a go, it knocks or british version into a cocked hat.  Who could ask for more?  One other thing I keep an eye on the freecycle offers and was about to ask for a cot bed, when a Mamas and Papas cot was offered in good condition and we collected it on Sunday afternoon, now upstairs awaiting assembly and ready for our lovely granddaughter to use.  Today I embark on my Autumn clean of the house, preparing for the winter onslaught and if the rain stops I will clear the front garden borders ready for winter planting. 

So happy Monday everyone, have a lovely day wherever in the world you are and keep safe. Thanks as always for reading, back again tomorrow.

Storm Clouds Gather (Alistair Muir)

Storm clouds gather – fill the sky –

Feel the tension – taste the charge;

Electric dreams up on high;

Purple sky – indigo cloud –

A crack like a death rattle;

Atmosphere a funeral shroud;

A flash of light – forked at tail;

A static-white explosion –

Blinding – a pause – and then hail;

Spherical missiles descend –

Aim unerring yet random;

Nature would champion send;

Havoc wreaked – and then the rain –

Cometh out of Nature's eyes –

Our Mother screams out her pain;

One more rumble – sound distorts –

A wall of wind thunders in –

Man now reaps his just desserts;

Hear and see the sky reports --

No escape – no-where to hide

When Mother Nature retorts;

The Earth and Man take a blow –

Anger vented – peace reigns true;

For now but more will follow.

Birthdays and burnt cakes

Hello everyone, and apologies for yesterday's absence, let down once more by my internet provider luckily my annual contract is up for review and you can be sure that I will review it very hard!  Sorry for the rant.

You will all be really pleased to know that the fruit soaked in tea worked a treat, everything was plump and tasty without that sweet tinge you get from sherry, and didn't affect the moisture in the cake whatsoever.  However, the oven was another kettle of fish, the cake took no time at all to bake (sorry burn) on the outside even on gas mark 1 but never quite cooked on the inside, it was a complete disaster but tasted wonderful, however the brownies, which should take 45 minutes on gas mark 4 took 1 minutes on gas mark 2!!!  I think I am going to have to get an oven thermometer, can't afford a new oven, so will put up with the idiosyncrasies of this one!  So to Jo in Tasmania, yes use tea to soak the fruit it really tasted great.

I have almost finished my granddaughters striped cardigan, just the neck and button border to do, photo next week , and yes the bamboo needles are still working a treat.  I have card and hardboard for quilting templates and am fired up with enthusiasm and energy to go  I think you may hear the strains of hot scissors and hot machining over the weekend.

For my poetical tribute today, I am dedicating it to Dylan Thomas who would have celebrated his 99th birthday on Sunday 27th October, not allowed to forget this as it is shared by a friend of mine who is probably Dylan's number one fan.  So to all I wish a wonderful weekend wherever in the world you are and look forward to speaking to you next week.  Thank you as always for reading.

Poem in October (Dylan Thomas)

 "My birthday began with the water -

Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name

  Above the farms and the white horses

         And I rose

     In rainy autumn

And walked abroad in a shower of all my days"

Harvest home and moon

Hello everyone, I hope that you are all ok today.

I just noticed the typo in yesterdays title, it should have read Balloons, not Baloons,note to self, I must remember to check the title as well.

Busy morning so far, washing blowing on the line, fruit cakes in the oven and brownies waiting to go in, I am tired of buying chocolate bars for the lunch box, and this must be much better.  The fruitcake is a boiled one and instead of using golden syrup, I use honey, this gives a much nicer flavour and has to be better for you doesn't it, also I had some chopped dates that needed using up.  I tried something different this time, in anticipation for the christmas cake, instead of costly sherry, I soaked the fruit overnight in earl grey teabags (already in the cupboard) and the fruit was lovely and plum and smelt very mellow this morning without the sweet smell you normally get from sherry.  If this works I will use it in the christmas cake.  Brownies, again I had some cocoa powder about to go beyond it's sell by date, and I bought some white chocolate instead of plain for my piece of chocolate a day to aid cholesterol reduction, so used that up as well.  So, pantry sell by dates checked as well. My pickled onions from year before last look very enticing and should go down a storm at christmas, it always pays to keep them for a couple of years, although truth was, when I was baking for the Country Market, I couldn't make them fast enough, people were coming back week after week in the lead up to christmas to get more as they tasted so good. The secret ingredient, one large helping hand from my better half!  So with the pantry stocked with home made goodies, and  yet more apples to collect and turn into apple sauce, I am feeling very virtuous.

Thank you for joining me gain, and I wish you all well wherever in the world you are.

Harvest Home (Chris Spurrell)

The spring planting was done and fruits ripen under the sun

The farmers have worked hard through the year

Now is the time to reap what they sowed

The wheat and the barley are about to be mowed

Carrots, turnips, potatoes and swede

All the food that we really need

Cabbages, cauliflowers fresh runner beans

All have to be picked before day is done

So everyone is working hard out in the sun

The apples for picking and the pears from their trees

There'll be lots of fresh fruit for you and me

Bundles of hay stacked neatly in the barns

And there it will stay and come to no harm

We have all worked hard but not alone 

To bring the harvest, harvest home. 

Baloons and parachutes

Hello everyone , I hope I find you all well.

I see from our old friend Google Doodle that it is the 216th anniversary of the first frameless parachute descent, from a hot air balloon, by it's inventor Andre-Jacques Garnerin. The doodle instantly brought to mind many happy bank holiday weekends spent watching the balloons "pop" up from the Tavistock balloon fiesta into the sky and drift off whichever way the currents and breeze took them, all sorts of colours and shapes an absolute delight for around three hours over two afternoon/evenings.  We had a wonderful vantage point from our farm on the top of the hill overlooking Tavistock, as we also did on bonfire night/weekend.  No two guesses as to the subject of my poetic conclusion today then.

I have been blog shopping over the last couple of days, inspired by the Patchwork and Quilting magazine and found some very inspiring blogs; www.bijoulovelydesigns.com;  www.incolororder.com; www.alisonglass.com.  Some very inspiring work and materials, my head is swirling with the possibilities.  I also  popped into a charity shop on the way to collect my husband and found a pair of double sized quilts they were about the throw away and gave them to me for a song.  Cleaned up these may sell for a decent price, if not the material will unpick and the backing and the filling will save me quite a lot of money.

Bye all and thank you for reading, speak to you tomorrow and have a wonderful day wherever in the world you are.

Air Balloon Festival (anon)

Drifting away...
Ageless
Careless
Weightless
Worriless 

Hopeful
Colorful
Playful
Dreamful 
Just drifting away...

No secrets
No fears
No tears
No pain
Drifting away...

Just a seed
In the air
In rainbows
Flying with hummingbirds
To our secret place

No human knows
Kites are lonely too
Strings do break loose
From shoreless blue
To drift away...

Rain that never comes
Souls that never show up
Pennies that drop in unexpected places
Flameless  candles
Drifting away...

Monday, Monday, so good to me......

Hello everyone, I hope you all had a good weekend ours was normal but lovely nevertheless.

Couldn't help myself but woke up to Monday singing the Mamas and Papas song, Monday Monday, and it has stuck, which is really quite nice for a bleak grey day outside, washing done and hanging on the maiden upstairs, Frugal Queen would be proud of me, chutney made as well, Spiced tomato with the last of our greenhouse toms and two peppers that needed using up, fruit bought for the christmas cake and puddings, sage and thyme drying in the kitchen.  Feeling quite pleased with myself.  

Saturday morning brought Quilters Group round again and saw me steadfastly drive to the community hall ready to partake in the fun that is quilting, to my dismay the hall was closed due to the excess rain last week and an upsurge of the sewerage system, not the place to be and in the process of being deep cleaned.  But all was not lost as the group had secured the use of a smaller hall behind the community hall for their workshop and sew and chat group alongside.  I am glad I wasn't in the workshop, supposed to be for beginners  but those experienced quilters were getting quite a lot of flack from the tutor, I think she may have packed me up and sent me home with a report that I must try harder!!!  Still whilst those in the workshop toiled hard, the rest of us cosied up with our work and beverages to sit and chat about the last two weeks events and lives, needless to say nobody seemed to get very much done, other than jaw exercises whilst I was there, and I came away feeling uplifted and included in my new group.

I have found three greens for my christmas sack, only another two to go, the pattern is all worked out, templates cut and backing material sorted.   All in all not a bad weekends work topped off with dinner at my brother and sister in laws last night along with my son and nephew.  If truth be told, life is as good as you make it and I want it to be really good.

So this  is where I came in with Monday Monday, and will end with the same, although my sentiments stay with the first two lines, but being a child of the 60's I loved this song then and despite the sadness I still find it uplifting.

Thank you for reading and have a lovely day, wherever in the world you are.  back again tomorrow.

Monday Monday (Mamas and Papas from The Big Chill)

Monday Monday, so good to me,
Monday Monday, it was all I hoped it would be
Oh Monday morning, Monday morning couldn't guarantee
That Monday evening you would still be here with me.

Monday Monday, can't trust that day,
Monday Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be
Oh Monday Monday, how you could leave and not take me.

Every other day, every other day,
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
You can find me cryin' all of the time

Monday Monday, so good to me,
Monday Monday, it was all I hoped it would be
Oh Monday morning, Monday morning couldn't guarantee
That Monday evening you would still be here with me.

Every other day, every other day,
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
You can find me cryin' all of the time

Friday again....

Hello everyone and happy Friday to you all.

It's been a busy day, I never did make it to the Yarn shop, but spent the day with my husband catching up, better than a coffee and knitting/sewing.  We went in search of a workbox for my sewing, and my brief was quite clear, little compartments to hold bit and bobs, a cantilevered top so that I can get to the other bits and space in the bottom to store longer term embroidery silks etc, and cheap!  Well we searched long and hard and finally found the ideal contender in a local DIY masquerading as a tool box, it might be lack and bulky but it fits the brief exactly and was only £9.99, dare I say more, my two spare bobbins from a craft shop cost me a third of the box!  Now all I have to do is organise it, find all the various bags around the house and neatly pack everything into one convenient box, job done.  But as it is Friday I have all weekend to do it.

Have a wonderful weekend everybody wherever in the world you are and I will be back on Monday.  Thanks as always for reading.

Friday  (Anon)

Friday is most certainly the greatest of days.

The reasons it’s great are too many to say.

But with that said, I’ll try to explain

Why Friday is better than a day without rain.

You see on Friday, you can work with a smile.

You need only work, for a little while.

For the weekend is near and then you can play.

Much fun to be brought by the most generous of days.

And generous it is, as morning treats can attest.

The cream filled donuts are definitely the best.

But don’t dare forget, the bagels are good too.

If there’s none in your office, that’s too bad for you.

Friday isn’t all treats and happy things.

There is but one obstacle the day does bring.

And that, my friend, is the slowing of time.

But if you can bare it, you’ll do just fine.

So join with me and laugh and cheer.

The work week’s end is drawing near.

Join with me and praise this day.

I’ve said what I’ve said, and I’ve nothing more to say.

Happy Friday Everyone!!!

BTW- there are no bagels or doughnuts on the Death Star.  Only misery instilled into the coffee pot

Departing House Martins and Swallows

Hi everyone, I hope Thursday is everything you hoped for and more.

As I snuggle into the autumn weather and adapt the house to suit, I notice the house martins and swallows are gathering on the telephone wires ready to make their long trip south to warmer climes, a little later this year than last, always a lovely sight to behold, pointed tails flicking as they sit on the wires taking in their horizon and getting ready to fly away.

I used my new needles last night and found that I knitted for longer and was much more comfortable than on previous nights.  Only an initial comment, as agreed I will give it a week to see if the benefits are really there.

I spent some time on Tuesday clearing out the tomatoes, courgette and beetroot beds, all need digging over ready for new crops, not this year as we want to re-arrange the garden and build a bigger raised bed for next years veggies, our winter project in the garden, and hopefully remove the old diseased apple tree, which in summer completely shades the old greenhouse!  Another project is erecting my washing line which moved from Devon with us,, this is a lovely large rotary line which winds up to gain extra height for drying, just needs putting in the ground, but whilst I have a little battered rotary plonked in an umbrella stand, the urgency seems to have disappeared, however, having had the smaller one blow over on many occasions I think the time has come to resort to the better line.  One of my frugal savings is the use of the tumble dryer, in the past used liberally and unnecessarily  now I monitor the met office weather site and check for good drying weather, get the washing done in that window and air on the maiden in the spare bedroom, just one of my changes to a more frugal life.  That and of course with autumn upon us, more casseroles with cheaper cuts all done in the slow cooker and soups for the weekends again done in the slow cooker. Fabulous.

Have a wonderful Thursday everyone wherever in the world you are, and I leave you with a picture of The Swallow a poem by Ted Hughes.  Thank you for reading and I will be back tomorrow.

A Swallow  (Ted Hughes)

Has slipped through a fracture in the snow-sheet

Which is still our sky –

She flicks past, ahead of her name,

Twinkling away out over the lake.

Reaching this way and that way, with her scissors,

Snipping midges

Trout are still too numb and sunken to stir for.

Sahara clay ovens, at mirage heat,

Glazed her blues, and still she is hot.

She wearied of snatching clegs off the lugs of buffaloes

And of lassooing the flirt-flags of gazelles.

They told her the North was one giant snowball

Rolling South. She did not believe them.

So she exchanged the starry chart of Columbus

For a beggar’s bowl of mud.

Setting her compass-tremor tail-needles

She harpooned a wind

That wallowed in the ocean,

Working her barbs deeper

Through that twisting mass she came –

Did she close her eyes and trust in God?

No, she saw lighthouses

Streaming in chaos

Like sparks from a chimney – She had fixed her instruments on home.

And now, suddenly, into a blanch-tree stillness

A silence of celandines,

A fringing and stupor of frost

She bursts, weightless -

to anchor

On eggs frail as frost.

There she goes, flung taut on her leash,

Her eyes at her mouth-corners,

Water-skiing out across a wind

That wrecks great flakes against windscreens.

I need to build an ark!

Hi everyone and a wonderful Wednesday to you all.

Woke up this morning and felt the urge to go out and build an Ark, but unfortunately it would have been too late, the deluge had already started, the rads were like fast flowing rivers with the occasional lakes along the way, the bow waves from the cars as they swooshed through the water was fantastic to see, the wind was howling and all in all I felt good with the world, especially as I was in a tin can with wheels and dry, I may have felt differently if I had been on foot bending against the wind with wet feet, but I wasn't thank goodness.  Positively the duck pond must be refilling, the dust will have been washed off the roads and the ground nicely watered.  How I love our british weather.

As I had to go the bank I looked out for a new wool shop that I had been told about, (new to me that is) Calon Yarns in Cardiff, and dropped in to see what they have to offer and came away with a pair of KnitPro bamboo tips and KnitPro 100 cm interchangeable needle cable which may revolutionise my knitting, apparently no more aching arms, we shall see and I will report back when I have used this system for over a week to see if they really do improve my knitting posture, only an investment of £5.00 so not too bad really. There were some lovely yarns all tastefully displayed, a knitter's paradise.  Not only do they sell yarns, they have a nice sofa seating area for about 10 people to browse patterns, but more importantly this area is available for those who want to join them on a Monday or Friday between 9.00am to 11.00am for a social knit/chat, no charge, no pressure just be there and spread the word.  Guess where I am going to be this Friday all being well!  And tomorrow night there is a craft group at a cafe locally, hopefully I will be there and lo and behold it is Quilters group this Saturday, am I finally getting a social life in Cardiff?

On this wet and blustery day I wish you all well and hope that wherever you are in the world you are having a good day and leave you with a short excerpt from the Rime of the Ancient Mariner.  Bye all and thank you for reading

Rime of the Ancient Mariner (Excerpt from)

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

All in a hot and copper sky,

The bloody Sun, at noon,

Right up above the mast did stand,

No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted ship

Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, every where,

And all the boards did shrink;

Water, water, every where,

Nor any drop to drink.

Matchstalk memn

Good morning all I hope Tuesday is great for you.

I sit at my laptop and look at the people bustling by, reminded of an LS Lowry street painting, although my road is a lot quieter and normally with few people, but there seems to be a lot of bustle today, probably people happy to walk on this crisp morning in the warming sun with the pale blue sky overhead, sun shining on the houses and the windows reflecting the light, what a happy sight it is.

I am continuing to cut down the mountain of material in my dining room to a more manageable size, have picked out the materials for a pennant for my granddaughter and are about to start creating templated for my quilts.  So much preparation and so much fun in doing it, I really am enjoying myself. I was reading Frugal Queens blog from yesterday, talking about strength and overcoming things and took time to take a good long look at my life over the last two years and the things I have achieved.  I have lost weight nearly 1.5 stones in weight, stopped biting my nails, after 60 years, stopped drinking and feel so much better in myself for doing so, become much more frugal without feeling I am losing out,  exercising more, taken up hobbies which I had long since forgotten, and I have also moved from Devon to Cardiff.  All good changes to my life and I am pleased with the progress I have made and intend to make more as time moves on.  I would say the only downside to the changes are moving away from my beloved daughter, her husband and now my new granddaughter, but we are connected daily by phone and our visits are longer with much greater quality, in terms of time I probably see more of them now that I did when we lived 30 miles away.  To sum it up I have made changes that have enhanced to quality of my life and makes to difficult areas much easier to bear.  Which brings me back to bustling people, all going about their busy days, fulfilling dreams and making changes to their lives, may it long continue.  I have a painting depicted below by L S Lowry, along with the words for a 70,s song Matchstalk men celebrating his art by Brian and Michael.

Thank you again for reading, have a lovely day wherever in the world you are and continue or set about achieving your personal goals.

Street painting by L S Lowry

Matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs,

(Brian and Michael)

He painted Salford's smokey tops
On cardboard boxes from the shops
And parts of ancoats where I used to play
I'm sure he once walked down our street
Cause he painted kids who had nowt on their feet
The clothes we wore had all see better days
Now they said his works of art were dull
No room all round the walls are full
But Lowry didn't care much anyway
They said he just paints cats and dogs
And matchstalk men in boots and clogs
And Lowry said that's just the way they'll stay

And he painted matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs
He painted kids on the corner of the street that were sparking clogs
Now he takes his brush and he waits outside them factory gates
To paint his matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs

Now canvas and brushes were wearing thin
When London started calling him
To come on down and wear the old flat cap
They said tell us all about your ways
And all about them Salford days
Is it true you're just an ordinary chap

And he painted matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs
He painted kids on the corner of the street that were sparking clogs
Now he takes his brush and he waits outside them factory gates
To paint his matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs

Now Lowry's hang upon the wall
Beside the greatest of them all
And even the Mona Lisa takes a bow
This tired old man with hair like snow
Told northern folk its time to go
The fever came and the good lord mopped his brow

And he left us matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs
He left us kids on the corner of the street that were sparking clogs
Now he takes his brush and he waits outside them pearly gates
To paint his matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs

And he left us matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs
He left us kids on the corner of the street that were sparking clogs
Now he takes his brush and he waits outside them pearly gates
To paint his matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs

And he left us matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs
He left us kids on the corner of the street that were sparking clogs
Now he takes his brush and he waits outside them pearly gates
To paint his matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs

And he left us matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs
He left us kids on the corner of the street that were sparking clogs
Now he takes his brush and he waits outside them pearly gates
To paint his matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs

Another wonderful weekend

Hello everyone and happy Monday,

Sorry for the silence last week, I was away from my laptop and once I got home in the evening and cooked dinner I was too tired to write.  Suffice it to say I had a good fulfilling week, followed by a wonderful weekend playing with my beautiful granddaughter and taken to see Warhorse, a Christmas present from last year after eight months eager anticipation.  If you haven't seen the staged version of warhorse you really should try, the splendid puppetry along with the simplicity of the sets was magnificent. Thank you to my daughter and son in law for a lovely present. Being given a present that you can spend months anticipating and then fully enjoy is lovely, Christmas before last my son gave my daughter and I a splendid day at a local spa, just some lovely special time for the two of us.  I am truly blessed with a lovely family.

Back to War Horse, Michael Morpurgo's book and stage play brilliantly depicts the futility of the first world war and the terrible waste of life, both human and animal,and the horses ability to adapt his life purely for survival and his love of his owner.  Rather than give you an excerpt for Michael Morpurgo's book, I have taken a poem by Steven Cooke, but would urge you to go out and get a copy of Michael's book and or see the play.

Until tomorrow, I hope your day will be wonderful, wherever in the world you are.

War Horse (Steven Cooke)

(In memory of the 3 million horses killed in War) 

Taken from Cloven fields, 

Where skylark and Grouse Linger.

Into the bowels of a troopship

No scent of Morning Dew, No Bird song

Only sweat and urine, 

And the distant sounds of war.

No light, no grass of home, only the whip.

For he is bound for Flanders field

His rider glorious in his regalia, sword in hand

He was his master now, and the horse’s salvation.

Kindness, a quiet word, an apple, their bond complete

His last feed, bathed in a red sun, which

Hovered above the morning mist hiding yesterday’s sin, 

For this is the place where death is king and reason is lost

This day, where man throws sacrifice to the gods, 

Like so much sour grain, crushed, and discarded, 

To blow away into the winds of time, 

Recorded by nations into the ledgers of loss, 

For now it is time

The lines gather, then the slow trot, their proud heads, restrained, 

Their mouths foaming on the bit, 

These beasts of burden knowing no fear, 

A site worthy of Valhalla

Their Trust, in man, galloping where heroes dare not go

Onward, onward, they gallop, 

Row on row into the fog, No grass here, 

Only mud, and wire, 

Waiting for the days cull.

This place, Mans, ultimate betrayal, 

Onward, Onward, Nostril’s flared, Eyes wide, steam rising from his Flanks, 

Every muscle, straining for the next stride

Then the Stumble, a moment’s recovery, 

Blood pours from his proud neck, then the ground.

His head rose, a hand strokes his brow, the last kindness.

A wavered shot ushers his life away, like so many before, 

No one will weep for you my War horse, 

No letter home, 

They’ll be No mention in dispatches, No Memorial

For you are just an animal, 

Sacrificed on the altar of man, left to rot in Flanders field

But for those precious minutes, he was more than man, 

This day, of all days, he kept his bond, did not flinch, 

Though death was all around, 

Galloped blindly through the death rattle of the guns, face on, 

No retreat, Onward, Onward, 

The magnificence of the horse, No equal, never forget, 

For it is the shame of a nation, a sin of mankind, 

To undo the hand of god

No glory here, only an empty cup left on the altar of insanity.

Taken From Cloven Fields, 

Where the Skylark and Grouse Linger

For I will weep for you, 

My noble friend, 

My War Horse, You Magnificent Beast