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Monday Monday
This poem came into my head today. Well, it did once I got home and the work buzz kept going. Long Legged Fly That civilisation may not sink, Its great battle lost, Quiet the dog, tether the pony To a distant post; Our master Caesar is in the tent Where the maps are spread, His…
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Auld Lang Syne
We twa hae paidl’t in the burn, From morning sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roar’d Sin auld lang syne. That is my favourite verse from Burns’ poem, a masterpiece which is still being sung around the world as I type. I have just been looking at comments on Facebook and I…
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Powerless
Thinking about anyone who reads this who was left without power on Christmas Day, as a result of the storms, that must have been grim. Here in Château Holmes we have lost the power, temporarily I am sure, to upload photos to BTW, not that any of my Christmas ones turned out as intended, but…
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Christmas Eve
It is blowing a gale out there and I am not happy, too many memories of high winds and damage done. I know full well that being powerless to do anything about it, beyond chaining down the buckets, is what freaks me out most about it. Who Has Seen the Wind? by Christina Rossetti …
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January
So. Yes. Anyone who knows me and my family will know what’s going on just now. But, onto other news. Mincers are in the production room, finalising the tracks and just amazed at the capabilities of the producer, Michael. Thanks are also due to Steve and Audrey, with everything happening in their world they…
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Haiku
Some days are golden. Some are golden, also long. Some are gently both. Oh come on people, that’s been up for days and no-one has pointed out the deliberate mistake.
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Doldrums
Well documented swathes of time can hang heavy in January, usually because of the continued short days and long nights. (Other reasons are available). Should finally see the Cooks today, it’s been far too long. I have just checked my facts about the Doldrums, which I understood to be an area of the ocean (Atlantic…
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Misty and mellow
It’s frankly sad that a well-loved poem becomes a cliche, I was walking to the train station yesterday and the view from our hill was beautiful, leaves changing colour, low morning sun, wraiths of mist slowly melting and I remembered that Keats probably has never been bettered. But because so many people know the poem, …
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A Guid New Year
..to ane and aw, and mony may ye see. Paul & I are quietly raising a glass to all our chums; in Scotland, the UK, Europe, America, Africa, Australasia and Asia. We don’t know of anyone in Antarctica yet, but please get in touch! It’s been another busy year, with weddings, births, and the sad…
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Against the dying of the light
I don’t know about you but at this time of year my thoughts can become a tad gloomy, morbid even. I know I am not alone in this, whether it’s the missing faces at the family meals; the fact that disruption to routine inevitably finds me staring at a chunk of time with no allotted…