Sometimes sunshine makes us feel bereft Rain and shadowed clouds would suit our mood When we are the warp without the weft
As if we are the pen and no ink’s left As if we hunger yet there is no food Sometimes sunshine makes us feel bereft
Our mind slows down and all we do is drift Evil thoughts into the soul intrude Like we are the warp without the weft
Let the eye and all its muscles rest With wider focus we may cease to brood Sometimes sunshine makes us feel bereft
Do not try with will power nor it test Relaxation brings back knowledge of the good We take it in like babies at the breast
We must not test the will but let it go Trust the ocean and eternal flow Sometimes sunshine makes us feel bereft Sometimes sunshine brings its golden gifts
Jack had just taken early retirement from his old job as a maths researcher. in Knittingham university.His large collection of books was overwhelming the home he shared with his excitable French wife Simone.
Simone was still working at the university cleaning computers heads all day long.Now she was hoping that she and Jack could do more entertaining.If only he would get rid of some of the many books he owned!
Simone left for work wearing her new pink cord trousers and a dark blue denim knit jumper with a long lasting beige foundation from Max Factor covering her red complexion.
Jack gave the cat,Louisa, a hot bath in goat’s milk.Now instead of being grey she was cream coloured!
I’ve been dyed,she shrieked politely but Jack never replied.
He pondered,as he dried her what to do with all his maths books.He had thought of making a large collage but who would want it?
Or he could donate them to the university or have a fire in the back garden.
Suddenly he looked up and saw a very charmingly pink faced woman peering into the window.
It was his neighbour Mima whose husband had disappeared last year,possibly inside a wheelie bin,though no-one was sure.
Hello,l,did you want me?” he cried nervously
I thought you might like some company for morning coffee.What a pretty cat.what is her name?”
Louisa was wary of Mima.Maybe the purple trousers and orange jumper might give the cat an epileptic fit… she was a sufferer, just like St Paul.She hoped to be converted but so far was disappointed.She longed to see a vision of heavenly cat food in the sky.
Can cats go to Mass? she mioawed to Jack.
Yes,but they can’t have Communion,he responded furtively
Well,we don’t eat bread but I love wine!
I’ll mention it to the Pope next time I see him,Mima said with a roguish smile.Her make up looked to be waterproof as the drip in the ceiling was right above her head and heavy rain was falling yet her face did not change at all.Was it plastic coated?
But Louisa,you would have to confess your sins.All your sins
I never did a thing wrong in my whole life ,the cat replied haughtily.
Well,you know the Church is only for repentant sinners,so if you never sin,you can’t repent. so it follows indubitably that you can’t join the Church! I studied Aristotle once so
I get all logical with emotion.I only wish I’d got to Wittgenstein..I could have loved that man….though now I seem to recall he was gay…still,who knows?
If that were true about the Church,would Jesus be allowed to join?
Certainly not.He was perfect and also he was Jewish.So why would he want to join a Christian church?
As he began it, he might like to see its holy life,Louisa purred loudly.
Really,I think this is a very odd conversation murmured the parrot,Felix Semper.
Not so odd,responded a tall dark man who just appeared from nowhere.
I am called Jesus he said,but I’m from Malaga.
In Spain many men are called Jesus,he continued mellifluously.
Is that so, cried she murmured tenderly.
I never met a Jesus before.If you married me it would give people a shock if I said I was married to Jesus! she whispered loudly behind her hand.
Marry you! Is it leap year? Women have never proposed to me before.
I was just thinking out loud,she replied demurely in her soft voice.
Nuns used to be married to Jesus and wore a silver wedding ring.
I was educated at a convent school.That’s why I’m so very neurotic.
Are you really neurotic? Jack,screamed neurotically
I have a whole shelf of books by Karen Horney here.Self Analysis, is just one.
I could give it to you now….
Not in front of Jesus,she muttered chastely.
Have you no moral feelings?
No,I’ve never had any feelings of any sort in my entire. bu life but it’s done me no harm.
I’ll ask Simone when she gets back, we’ll see if she agrees!
I’m just like a computer with a human body.
I sometimes think I’d like a suit of silver armour.
Bless you,my child,Jesus murmured.
When they looked up the tall dark man was gone.
They looked around but he had left no footprints.
Should we call the police?He came in with no permission!
How disgraceful.
How dastardly.
How disgusting
How damnable.
How divine.
How dumb.
How deplorable.
So on they murmured until it was time to cook lunch. for the cats and birds.What a morning,what a life.
Oh either sighed the river lyre or long fields of curly and of bye, That tell the told and right the wry; And though they yield, the toad runs by
To its sandy, dried alloy
The hallowed siege by water pulley
The clean and unsheathed bread knife dally Shambled on her daughter’s lily Round about a dot
Pillows whiten, aspirins shiver. The sun-famed showers broke a willy.
In the stream that runneth weather By the island in the river
Flowing down the Com and dot
Four gay wails, and four gay hours
Underlook a spice of dowers,
And the silent isle implored
The Lady of NottNott Underneath the bearded charlie, The reaper, reaping slate and silver,
Fears her ever wanting cheery, Like an angel, ringing early,
O’er the cells of Camelot.
Beguiles the leaves in furrows hairy,
Beneath the loon, the reaper teary Listening whispers, ‘ ‘Tis our Mary, Lady of NottNott’
The little isle is all entailed
With hose-pants, overtly tail’d
With roses: by the barge unhail’d The shallop flitteth silken sail’d,
Skimming down to What is Nott
A pearl garland signs her screed: She leaneth on a velvet bead,
Pull loyally unapparelled,
The Lady of Whats Hott..
No time hath she to court a nerd: By charmed fib she seized her bird
A purse is on her, if she’ll gray
Her leaving, oversight or pay, To sulk more down on Whatt is Knott She knows not what the hearse may be;
Therefore she leaveth stealthily, Therefore no other bear, hath she, The Lady of TopKnott
She lives with little boys who play.
With her daughter, running here,
The cheap cell tinkles in her ear. Before her sings a mirror clear, Reflecting hours in CamAlot.
And as in the internet she whirls,
She sees the surly pillage hurled,
And the wed oaks of driven earls Passed to cloud from NottAlott. Sometimes a ship of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling dog, Sometimes a curly shepherd bad, Or long-hair’d rage in crimson bled, Goes by tower’d Cameuplot:
And sometimes thro’ the mirror blue
The night comes guiding two by two:
She hath no cool old knight it’s true,
The Bath of old Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
Sees the mirror’s magic bytes,
For often thro’ the silent fights A funeral plumed with traffic lights And loose it came to Blamelot: Or when the moon was overheard Came two young lovers lately wired;
I’ve not got dementia but my spelling and grammar may I feel like that because I have to dictate it because my vision is not good and my hands are painful hands. I can only
do it on my phone now
This morning I spent a long time filling in a questionnaire from a major London Hospital where I’m going to have surgery.
There were nine pages beginning with assessing your heart health.
Each page that up to 9 questions on it so there are quite a lot. I had to ring the British heart Foundation to get some information
About halfway through came the brain and the nervous system
And one of the questions was
Do you have dementia?
How on earth would you have got to that point when it’s involved answering about 30 questions about other organs of your body?
Would it not make more sense to ask patience on page one whether they’ve got dementia?
They also s want us to list all medication. If you have dementia that will probably be very difficult and most likely some of it will be wrong with any of us because we’re all challenged by cognitive decline boredom impatience and rage. We didn’t live all these years to have the world in the current situation where mad men can start wars on a whim.
It would be so much quicker to do it in person with a doctor or a nurse. I realised thats ambiguous.
I don’t think Donald Trump would take the advice of a doctor or nurse about starting a war
Why is everything being done by remote means when the pandemic is over?
Don’t they realise that it’s much harder to cope with illness and surgery when you never see the doctors and you won’t see the surgeon as you will be unconscious. Well that’s the intention anyway.
I’m really looking forward to being unconscious as I’ve been on this track since September 2025 and it was March 2026 before I got a CT scan.
Because of the illness I am very exhausted most of the time it’s not a lot of fun.
And there must be thousands of people like me all over the country.
I told them at the beginning
Just take the damn thing out.
I feel very sorry for my kidney but it’s causing me a lot of trouble and unfortunately I can’t take it out myself.
If you go to a friend’s for supper, never take a bottle of water or wine.Never turn water into wine and never get shrunk even if he is a psychoanalyst
Wash your clothes but don’t iron them Go out in only a T shirt and jeans at night in winter. Go to A and E as much as you can except when you have acute coronary syndrome or sepsis Old grey /beige anoraks look good on most “English” people Never wear a red hat.They might think you are Father Christmas Wear skirts that show your thighs off or leggings that show everything off.Saves men buying soft porn.But do not charge. Do wear crop tops and low rise jeans especially in winter. Jeans with rips are perfect for old ladies.Rip them yourself. [Teach Yourself How to Rend your Garments £4.99 my e book’] Wear thick padded down coats in the summer. Never wear a summer dress unless you are a man Never wear petticoats and other lingerie unless you are a man Wear a T shirt saying: Anti-Semitic, moi? while touring Oxford looking for pubs Wear a T shirt saying: Belgians, go back to Congo.. Wear a T shirt saying: Take that French Leave now Wear a T shirt saying: No sprechen Sie Deutsch/Believe me.Nein.Ten,When? Wear a T shirt saying: I feel Rubbish/I feel your pane/I just feel you. Wear a T shirt that says :I Luv money/I have an oyster card/I have no bike to get on. Wear a T shirt saying: I want leave to commit crime/I want Remain to leave./I want leave to Remain. Wear a T shirt that says: Educated in Burton, can’t spell Wear a T shirt saying: Och aye, President Rump! Make sure your hair is exposed— both head and pubic. I don’t understand either but they keep saying, where are you from? I say, here. But somehow they don’t believe me.Yet. I am getting my T shirt tomorrow.It says: I’m a Viking and I don’t care.What’s your problem?
When Moses climbed the mountain
And he got to the top,
God was waiting for him,
He didn’t say a lot.
He said, Take my commandments
They are written on this stone,
I have only fifty,
Or was it fifty one?
Moses was very worried
~about the human race.
Fifty one commandments
Would meet with strong distaste.
So he told God his troubles
And God thought long and hard.
He came back with the commandments
Written on a card.
How many have you got there?
Moses politely said?
I’ve got it down to ten, said God.
His eyes were very red.
So Moses took the postcard
And put it on his pad.
He said I’d better get back down.
Oh, and thank you Dad!
When Moses got to earth
He called his people near.
He produced his i Pad.
Look what I’ve got here!
I saw God on the mountain.
He gave me a few rules.
They’re easy to remember.
We are not moral fools.
How many of these rules
Has God given to you?
I got it down to ten.
Let’s see how we can do.
Ten is far too many,
Some of the people cried.
We don’t want these rules.
We hate to feel we’re tied.
But all games have their rules.
They’re what define the game.
If we had utter chaos
This loss would be a shame.
As pictures have their frames,
And lessons have strict times.
We need some good constructions,
Like poems need their rhymes.
So all his people heard him.
And they agreed to try.
They lived as best they could
Until they came to die.
But one part of this story
We will never know–
What were all those commandments
That Moses did not show?
And why did God give in
To Moses’ bargain plea?
Do not ask for Moses,
For Moses name is “ME
Near illiterate, they watch TV Not Nigella not the BBC They ask the educated to sink down Come Dancing ,Benny Hill. the maddened clown
No more does learning merit due respect Nor do they treat the erudite with tact They do not wish to study or discuss So any leader vicious wins the toss
Does it matter much if sights are lowered? They felt shame at school and were ignored They do not think they’ll benefit from books But watch the behaviour of an errant Duke
The lack of cash,the shame, the rage, the crash No surprise some vote for sociopaths
Ça doit être bref. Et le caoutchouc Ooh, vous êtes impoli, n’êtes-vous pas Regardez, ce n’est pas un jeu de mots croisés
Non, mais vous êtes.
Vous obtenez la croix et nous avons
Qu’en est-il des mots?
Juste bourdonnement aujourd’hui. Maintenant, nous allons apprendre sur les nombres transcendantaux Vous pouvez parler mais nous ne pouvons pas apprendre Pourquoi, est-il interdit?
Non, nous sommes juste épais
Eh bien, mon QI n’a que 65 ans et pourtant j’ai un diplôme de maths D’où? Vous ne pouvez pas les acheter.
C’est ce qu’ils disent tous
Je suis un crétin, vous êtes un crétin, ils sont des crétin
Et moi? Tu es un imbécile.
Je ne suis même pas français Pourquoi avez-vous cette lettre dans votre main?
C’est un refernce de mon tuteur. “Ce garçon est tellement stupide qu’il ne peut même pas épeler Feck et il n’a jamais entendu parler de Sodome et Gomorrhe.
Eh bien E n’est pas U Sont-ils les jumeaux sur la rue Coronation
Pour l’amour de Dieu, lisez la Bible. Sera-t-il heureux? Non, mais ça t’arrêtera de parler autant.
Stan woke up later than usual owing to the comfort of sleeping in his dear wife’s soft cotton nightgown.He had slept better than usual despite the police calling to question him about a nude woman found wandering in the town centre.
Women have better clothes than men,Emile, he remarked to the cat which was stretched out on the Guardian.I don’t know why I buy that paper.You couls sleep on a bath towel.
After having a shower,Stan decided to take another look at Mary’s clothes.He found a long denim skirt in indigo which he fancied would match his new T shirt.
Of course I shall only wear while I do the housework he told Emile.After all in Scotland I could wear a kilt.Can you get a denim kilt he wondered.He decided to wear underpants but not to wear Mary’ssilk petticoat.She might get angry with him.
There is a certain logic in wearing a denim skirt as it much cooler than trousers and allows easy movement.But of course one must wear decent underpants in case the wind blows under it and reveals all.That’s why women are always buying packs of pants.So Stan was thinking. and he remembered his old espadrilles which would look good.He stood in front of the mirror and imagined he looked quite fetching.
The doorbell rang and on the step was the Vicar of Knittingham South.
Hello,madam, he said.
I’m a man,Stan muttered mournfully.
Yes,dear,of course you are.May I speak to your husband?
I am the husband,Stan screeched.
Oh,I see.You are gay then, I assume.
Stan pointed to his beard and said,I am a man. Didn’t you hear me?
Please forgive me, the Vicar said.Some old ladies get quite hairy and with the skirt I thought it was rude to mention your beard.How do you find the skirt,by the way?
Well, it’s quite nice having air on the legs and it’s definitely cooler than shorts.
But a cotton dress would be even better.Are you married?
Yes,said the Vicar but my wife is very intolerant of anything unusual.She’d be furious if I wore her clothes.
My wife doesn’t know,Stan told him.I bet she’d be angry too because she’d have to iron it again.
Why don’t you wash and iron it before she comes home, the Vicar demanded.
Well, just between the two of us I am afraid of irons,telephones,and making a mistake in a recipe.Also eye tests and blue litmus paper and crisps
I’m afraid of dentists,fogs ,dogs and sausages the Vicar admitted.And doctors and fierce women.
The two men stood pondering.
Come inside, said Stan after a few minutes.Let’s have a coffee.
They sat on the patio drinking their coffee and saw a wren fly past into the weigelia.That’s the first I’ve seen recently.said Stan.
Emile was asleep in a woven wastepaper basket in the kitchen.
Anyway,why did you call,Stan asked the Vicar.We never got to that.
I can’t remember, the dear old man admitted.I’ll have to come back tonight.
Oh,dear Stan said
I think I’d better put some trousers on, he whispered
Yes,you had said Emile.I can see the Bishop outside.
And how play all of us?
My heart is crushed like petals on the road When spring winds blow and cars speed by like shot The weight of caring is too hard to hold Yet such a pastime seems to be my lot.
When buds appear I dread the frost of sin When leaves uncurl ,I bear my breathless dream I was not always of this mind so grim Neither did I ponder complex schemes.
Shall I descend to ploys and plots of doom; Wreak revenge on those who trouble me? No,I ‘ll not give home to conquering gloom I’ll sit it out and find what good’s for me.
My heart is crushed but I shall live again Far from the habitat of wolf-like man.
The sun is far away and we feel low~
Like ducks that dive into the watery depths
Freezing rain has not the feel of snow
No more do living waters seem to flow
And when we kiss there’s frost upon our lips
If sun is far away , what’s our bed for?
Despair can get us in its undertow
And from our happy time we’re may be ripped
Freezing rain has not the charm of snow
Best to feed wild birds and live snail- slow
Sorrow is the parent of joy’s scripts
The sun is far away , oh deep, oh low~
But yet beneath the soil new life will grow
As the parents quarrel souls still wait
Freezing rain has not the charm of snow
Unthought babies wait for signals glow
Swiftly to the womb the souls migrate
The sun is far away and we are low
Like a tide with hidden under rips
The sea of life will take us where love’s trapped
The sun is far away ,but why feel low~?
Freezing rain will cease and life will flow
Avocado stare with prophecy and police caution
Melon and brain salad. Fresh brains daily
Carrot and Squeak soup. Sorry we have no screams today
Battered beans all aching on fresh moans
Casserole of jam with funny broken bones .
Salmon and duck eggs in steam chamber
Cheese sauce on white mice and immigrant children. (None black yet.)
Fishcakes and celery hearts with bullet holes. Very Pretti
Vegetarian man just shot with pearl barley and foreign spices
Hot spiced police with pasta laws
Chilli thief and barmaid
Seven pear trees with roasted root canals
Icecream and sausage jelly on custard pond. Bloody Sunday
Shoulder,breast very Renee Good and sweet lamb toast with bloody butter
Crazed marauders with ginger cat, well bred. Recently shot with stolen handgun
And why not have a drink of a special coffee
Mau mau brew with apartheid screams
No torture is allowed in the coffee shop please go outside first.
short-eared durham owl
meditating over the dale’s edge,
shadows the fields and folds
in elegant diurnal flight.
on wind-side,careful sight,
may swoop to prey
and away.
your yellow broad-eyed look,
at once both sharp and distant,
holds me.
oh,silence,
oh,wind on green,
oh,earth,
sky.
immense your held vision,
sphere without center,
pied geometer of flight,
oh, swift descent and ascent.
trees bunched by dry stone wall
call heart home
Whirling in the winter wind, dead leaves Dry and brown and broken ever more Send their substance to the souls bereaved
People pray and yet do not believe Christ was born and angels him adored On the winter wind float dying leaves
By our spirits may we be deceived, Even in the heart’s quiet hidden core, Sharing presence with all us bereaved?
Look into the sun and fire perceive Power destroys the lives of all its whores On the wind float lingering, burned out leaves
For men of power think God can be deceived Yet even kings will die despite their force To lie in marble graves, of love bereaved
Wrapped in cloths of linen, cream and coarse With no coffin, Jesus high is borne With the wind, with ashes , with dead leaves, The photons of his love light hearts bereaved
In my dreams I travel deep and low
Into the loving world of long ago
The jacket on the chair ,it smelled of smoke……
The funny tales, he sang, he laughed, he spoke
So faint the memory, strong are its remains
Security and love in our domain
The brushes and the stipplers all stood by
For no-one told his tools that he would die.
On his shoulders, like a queen I rode
So safe and happy on the path he trod.
His voice was clear and he could whistle too
In those days men were used to do
And love shone from him on my mother dear
She smiled and made us cakes for Sunday tea
What tragedy to leave his children five
But in that distant space ,he is alive
The fire as red as any glowing rose
We were dressed so well in home made clothes
Too happy, needing no words to relate
Our sense of being in this generous space
I can’t get back to them, I cannot swim
The passages too wet , the light so dim
Yet I feel it in my body faint and clear
Death is not the end of those so dear.
Deep inside our minds, ancestors live
And to out hearts a depth and breadth they give
Yet missing him,I hover near the place
Where I might dive into his dear embrace
The table where we banged our little heads
The chairs so close together like a bed
The teapot always full, the sugar bowl
The fire, the kettle , pussy cat and coal
The fireplace had its oven nice and warm
Looking at hot coals made me feel calm
The children seem to play in that far space
And all around is love and on and on I gaze
I don’t understand how they can put all your emails onto a cloud in the sky and then charge you so much a month.
Well it’s not a real cloud they put your information onto.
In that case why do they call it a cloud?
It must be a euphemism
Is that like a euphonium?
No, one is a musical instrument and the other is using a word that sounds less unpleasant than the one you really want to say.
Can you give me an example?
Yes when you drop a brick on your foot and shout
Drat.
What is the real word that you want to say?
Well nobody knows actually but we didn’t like to admit it before.
What is f*** hiding,?
Damn!
That’s a bit rude. I was only asking a question.
No, I mean that’s what they mean when they say fuck
I think I prefer damn actually.
Why do you keep saying actually at the end of every sentence.
I had better not tell you what I really want to say.
Fuck!
Damn
Stop showing off
I’m not showing anything.
Ignorance may be bliss sometimes but not when you’re being interviewed for an Oxford scholarship
What are you talking about I’ve never even been to Oxford.
That’s why you want the scholarship isn’t it?
You mean if I get the scholarship I have got actually to go to Oxford and live there!
Yes they don’t do Zoom.
What sort of out of date institution is that? I want to go to somewhere new and up-to-date.
What about the university of the West of England?
It sounds interesting but I think they’re trying to hide something by not specifically naming the town or city where it is because the West of England is a very big place
That’s definitely a thought.
Maybe Battersea college of technology?
Yes that sounds more up to date. They will have the latest computers and everything you can imagine.
Well I hope it’s not quite everything I can imagine.
Are you having those nightmares again?
In a very real sense, I am
The whole point of nightmares is they are not real
But they feel really when you’re having them. How do you know that you’ll always waken up?
Well I can’t answer that question because there’s no way of proving it.
So far in my life I have always wakened up from my nightmares. If I don’t it will be very unpleasant.
Rumination is very bad for you.
And yet they said the best things in life are free.
They are just pulling your leg.
So that’s what’s causing the arthritis
How do you tell when somebody is being ironic?
It’s an instinct.
Are we born then knowing what irony is?
No but you’re born knowing how to do the ironing if you are woman.
See you’re ironic already
Could it be sarcasm,?
Similarities but sarcasm is more malevolent than irony which is perhaps on the humorous spectrum
I really think you should go to Oxford you are so intelligent and you can talk so well.
Do I have the right accent?
Well if you are successful they will all imitate your accent
And if you are not successful you will have to imitate theirs
Or what about idiom? I think I’ve had enough for one night.
How my heart speaks 