Good Morning!

Feeling Better

Feeling much better now.I used some Vics First Defense spray yesterday and it has abated the sneezing  and dissipated the stuffiness.

I have no major visit until the 10t h at the moment so i will have almost a week of impoving health regimes under way.

The weather is similar to yesterday. Cold,with possiblesunshine coming and dry.

Wednesday Wistfulness

It looks like I will be quite busy this month around the 10th to the 20th with jobs in Kent. The ones, well two actually, I was going to do in the Brighton area has been cancelled but the same type of jobs now in Kent. Meanwhile, I have applied for some online social media and email, mystery shops that can be done at home during this fallow week until the 10th, which happens to be a payday - thank goodness.

Watched the New Year Day Doctor Who, which in my opinion, was the best of the current season. So whenever the 20i9 season begins I hope that the stories are better with less of the in-yer-face politicising.

Book-wise I might increase the challenge to 95 books or higher, undecided as yet, but I will make my choice once I have finished my first book of this year,

Hope you all have a good new year.

Just Wondering

Are you happier than you were a year ago?

Are you healthier, mentally and physically than you were a year ago?

What do you hope that this year will bring you?

Stina Nordenstam

I want to bring to your attention another of my fave artists that should be known better -  Stina Nordenstam

"Nordenstam's etiolated Northern Sky blues are definitely not for everyone, but for anyone who likes songs full of air and silence and oblique confession - and who knows how to relish the hours involved in a deferred seduction this is a late night addiction waiting to happen"

Stina Nordenstam - His Song

Stina Nordenstam - I'll Be Cryin' For You

Stina Nordenstam - Crime

Stina Nordenstam - Dynamite

Stina Nordenstam - Everythings Happen To Me (Live)

Enjoy.

Poems Of The Week

Two poems about the nighttime.


Night
Poem by William Blake

The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower,
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.

Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight.
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.

They look in every thoughtless nest,
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm.
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.

When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.

And there the lion's ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold,
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold,
Saying, 'Wrath, by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness
Is driven away
From our immortal day.

'And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep;
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee and weep.
For, washed in life's river,
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold
As I guard o'er the fold.'


Night Poem
Poem by Margaret Atwood

There is nothing to be afraid of,
it is only the wind
changing to the east, it is only
your father the thunder
your mother the rain

In this country of water
with its beige moon damp as a mushroom,
its drowned stumps and long birds
that swim, where the moss grows
on all sides of the trees
and your shadow is not your shadow
but your reflection,

your true parents disappear
when the curtain covers your door.
We are the others,
the ones from under the lake
who stand silently beside your bed
with our heads of darkness.
We have come to cover you
with red wool,
with our tears and distant whipers.

You rock in the rain's arms
the chilly ark of your sleep,
while we wait, your night
father and mother
with our cold hands and dead flashlight,
knowing we are only
the wavering shadows thrown
by one candle, in this echo
you will hear twenty years later.

Good Night