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Good Morning
Oct. 9th, 2016 09:17 am
I know it is Sunday but it is best to get up soon yawning cat!
Oct. 9th, 2016
I know it is Sunday but it is best to get up soon yawning cat!
Today I ...
Oct. 9th, 2016 03:30 pmListened to Radio 4 and Radio 4 Extra.
Had lunch - lambs liver,mashed potato,peas and carrots
Had a couple of beers.
Watched a few episodes of Charmed.
Read a book.
Lazy day in general.
Had lunch - lambs liver,mashed potato,peas and carrots
Had a couple of beers.
Watched a few episodes of Charmed.
Read a book.
Lazy day in general.
Poems Of The Week
Oct. 9th, 2016 11:10 pmTwo poems from an anthology pf poems i am reading at the moment.
Moonrise
Poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the morning:
The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe of a finger-nail held to the candle,
Or paring of paradisaical fruit, lovely in waning but lustreless,
Stepped from the stool, drew back from the barrow, of dark Maenefa the mountain;
A cusp still clasped him, a fluke yet fanged him, entangled him, not quite utterly.
This was the prized, the desirable sight, unsought, presented so easily,
Parted me leaf and leaf, divided me, eyelid and eyelid of slumber.
The Spirit Wooed
by Philip Larkin
Once I believed in you,
And then you came,
Unquestionably new, as fame
Had said you were. But that was long ago.
You launched no argument,
Yet I obeyed,
Straightaway, the instrument you played
Distant Down sidestreets, keeping different time,
And never questioned what
You fascinate
In me; if good or not, the state
You pressed towards. There was no need to know.
Grave pristine absolutes
Walked in my mind:
So that I was not mute, or blind,
As years before or since. My only crime
Was holding you too dear.
Was that the cause
You daily came less near—a pause
Moonrise
Poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the morning:
The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe of a finger-nail held to the candle,
Or paring of paradisaical fruit, lovely in waning but lustreless,
Stepped from the stool, drew back from the barrow, of dark Maenefa the mountain;
A cusp still clasped him, a fluke yet fanged him, entangled him, not quite utterly.
This was the prized, the desirable sight, unsought, presented so easily,
Parted me leaf and leaf, divided me, eyelid and eyelid of slumber.
The Spirit Wooed
by Philip Larkin
Once I believed in you,
And then you came,
Unquestionably new, as fame
Had said you were. But that was long ago.
You launched no argument,
Yet I obeyed,
Straightaway, the instrument you played
Distant Down sidestreets, keeping different time,
And never questioned what
You fascinate
In me; if good or not, the state
You pressed towards. There was no need to know.
Grave pristine absolutes
Walked in my mind:
So that I was not mute, or blind,
As years before or since. My only crime
Was holding you too dear.
Was that the cause
You daily came less near—a pause
Just Wondering
Oct. 9th, 2016 11:17 pmDo you talk to yourself?
How many vegetables and fruits do you buy weekly?
In your opinion, what's the most delicious vegetable?
In your opinion, what's the most delicious fruit?
How many vegetables and fruits do you buy weekly?
In your opinion, what's the most delicious vegetable?
In your opinion, what's the most delicious fruit?
Good Night
Oct. 9th, 2016 11:58 pm
Time for the sack. Big day of interviewing customers tomorrow at Gatwick.
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