Morning all

October 18, 2018

Slight chill in the air today. This morning seems kissed by winter beckoning to us from very near at hand, October into November. The sky above, overcast, exhales a pale mist of rain over everything.

Unbelievable

July 19, 2018

Another Sunday –

May 13, 2018

This says it all…

January 12, 2018

Up with the lark

January 12, 2018

It’s Sunday…

May 29, 2016

good morning

night

Diary 16th March

Earlier, a sky the colour of spilled ink, carelessly puddled over sleeping fields. No memory of daylight in its oppressive blindness. No suggestion of a dawn to come…And cold, too…Shivery cold.

The daffodils are out in patches along the hedgerow. I can sense them, not see them, but I know they’re there. It’s like standing in a crypt surrounded by fat cats on the patio. Soon the bluebells will dazzle visitors.

Now, I sit and watch the steam rise from my coffee cup…
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So far this week we’ve been told that foreign travel will become more expensive if we leave the EU. Our ports and airports won’t be able to cope with the influx of “visitors”. My Aunt Mabel’s tit will catch in her mangle…And now today we learn, horror of horrors, the high-flying Prime Minister of Malta, Joseph Muscat, said yesterday that if the UK exited the EU it would “not be trusted” again.

In any negotiate, he said: “EU leaders would be keen to show to their national audiences which might warm to the idea of leaving the union that such a process would be very ugly, painful and costly.”

And therein lies one of the major problems of the EU. All the politicians recognise how unpopular it’s become – not just in the UK, but right across the board. Yet they do nothing to address this situation…Let sleeping dogs lie; the gravy train must roll on!

Never mind. President Obama is coming to the UK to save the day…
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Recently read: “The Love-Charm of Bombs: Restless lives in the second world war”, by Lara Feigel, who has created an “ensemble piece” about five novelists who endured the bombs and blackouts in London when it was getting the shite kicked out of it by the German Luftwaffe. The novelists are Elizabeth Bowen, Henry Green, Graham Greene, Rose Macaulay and…Hilde Spiel (?).

“London is extraordinarily pleasant these days with all the new spaces, and the rather Mexican effect of ruined churches,” Graham Greene told Anthony Powell in December 1940. One hopes he had his tongue firmly planted in his cheek at the time (although I doubt he did!)…?

Henry Green was a volunteer fireman, Bowen and Greene were ARP wardens, and Macaulay was an ambulance driver.

Sex was a panacea to all that death and destruction surrounding them. The blackout became a time for heavy breathing and furtive couplings. Macaulay had an intense affair with a married man who had once been a Catholic priest. Green and Greene were both inveterate womanisers. Bowen lived with a husband who tolerated her affairs with other men’…only Hilde Spiel remained monogamous in this sea of bombs and adultery…

Enjoyed this gossipy book very much.
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Morning

September 21, 2015

ghostlyreaching

You come to me in a dream
dressing for your pre-dawn ride,
just as you did on the day
that you died, awakening me
when you turn on the light
to find some missing socks.
I scolded you then,
but now I plead, appeal to reason:
Since you know
what’s going to happen
please don’t go.
You touch my hair, pull on your jersey,
ride again into that dark morning.

Donna Hilbert