My washing will not dry laid on the hedge
But I stand here while nurturing a grudge
I rarely feel one so I must retain
The nasty feeling and the horrid pain

Yet since it hurts me,I must be a fool
The errant friend will turn into a ghoul
I’ll hear her footsteps from my ancient bed
Till she enters carrying her head

Oh God lift up my ruminating curse
Let me have your grace or I’ll get worse
I do not wish to have a bitter heart
Grudges turn to dread; it’s hatred’s art

For if I learn destruction and its ways
Cruelty will have the final say

My sister said she only wanted her family at Christmas.

What would St Joseph have said?

Did he adopt Jesus?

So as I have no children is my sister part of my family?

But not the other way round?

AB is not BA

Order matters.

Jesus killed a barren fig tree.

There was no fertility treatment then.Still he was crucified in the end.What sort of wood I wonder

Odd isn’t it?

Remember to comb the hair on the back of your head.

If you use a walking frame,polish it.

Don’t wear earphone at night or when crossing a park

Get wool hats for winter or steal a man friend’s cap

Knit a scarf.

Use a nail brush.

Put cream on your skin.

Drink lots of water.It helps arthritis on hot weather

The cartilege can crack when dry because it has no blood vessels in it.

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I wish I were on Hutton Roof again
The limestone and the little open flowers
The sea at Arnside like a distant gem
The spaciousness, like days with far more hours

I wish I were as agile now as then
I’d climb the mountains, hills,the little lanes

Windermere below still winding on
The handsome Lake the old man, Coniston

I wish I were in Dent, the curious shapes
The hills and their deep mystery engross
The height, the little river, the mistakes
The lost loved man alive, to hold me closeI

I yearn to be on Hutton Roof today
The holy smell of grass, the feel of air