When wi wer cummin’ ‘ome at last
From het Somme and from et Trojan Wars
The ghosts of owa dead menfolk shuffled past

Making sense u’ livin’ is owa task
When th’ heart and soul are sad and sore
When wi eh cummin’ ‘ome at last

The rush an’ rasp of textures breaks et fast
We want to live ; we want to fight no more
The ghosts of owa dead neighbours staggered past

When wi all went mad ,wi acted daft
Wi felt dissected by yon eyes that saw
When wi were cummin’ ‘ome at last

Some we’ weeping ,others sat and laffed
Wi saw owa cat and touched her little paws
The ghosts of owa dead mammies staggered past

Do not kill that good that love adores
Do not dance with evil as ye source
When will we be cummin’ ‘ome at last?
The ghosts of owar own futures shuffle past

https://www.sheppardsoftware.com/Europeweb/factfile/Unique-facts-Europe2.htm#:~:text=The%20term%20Europe%20is%20generally,the%20lands%20to%20the%20west.

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/07/learning/what-role-does-envy-play-in-your-life.html

But is there anything to be learned from envy? If Socrates was right and the unexamined life is not worth living, then surely we should examine our feelings to find what we really care about as opposed to what we would like to think we care about. And what better instrument for this kind of self-examination than envy, a feeling as honest as a punch.

For instance, I often find a reason to become angry with people

Blossom hangs down from the bough

All is well it shall be sure

Do not leave it for your lonely grave

Do not leave us here when you are gone

Do not leave my heart in blood to bathe

We need your kindness your work is not ok done

Do not leave a sister all alone

Do not leave a brother empty sad.

You who share my skin and share my bones

Come back come back live not with the Dead

Here’s your daughter with her newborn babe

Here’s your eldest son k oh mother mine

Live again live again oh stay

Do not leave us yet without a sign

The tears run down our faces but too late.

The human world’s not ours to navigate

I got a in my art exam

I see

And I got F in the physics exam

But physics does not begin with F.What did you get for algebra?

I think it was x. The unknown quantity

How extraordinary. Was there equation that you can solve?

It was non-linear.

How can they expect children at school to study non-linear equations?

I think they were handing out

Teach yourself everything in algebra in one hour a week .

And how long do you do that for?

X of course.

I wonder who will be the next education minister.

Did they not tell you?

Boris Johnson

Well I will be damned

No you won’t. Hell is full

But what about Donald Trump?

He might make his ownm

I did not know Death was near again

It’s not the death itself, we fear the pain,

We fear the lonely empty space you leave

I don’t know if you want to be deceived

We all know that one day we must depart

From our little castle in the heart

But we if have the energy to live

To thoughts of death no hearing do we give

When the winter comes the sun is low

Little creatures hibernate .,go slow

Without a human mind are creature sad?

Without our weary thoughts we might be glad

Irrational numbers move about the paper when you’re not looking.

2 / 3 turns into to 3/2.

It plays hell with recipes for cakes.

Any number can become irrational especially in hot weather

The solution is never bake on a hot day. Ir6 to make cakes using cup measurements instead of weighing and measuring.

Bills are irrational when they exceed the limit on your credit card and/or your bank balance

God is irrational because he made right angles triangles with two of the sides of length 1 unit forcing he hypotenuse to be √ 2

And √ 2 is not a rational number. It cannot wait expressed as a ratio of two whole numbers.

But why?

https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/outface

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/08/01/style/the-seven-stages-of-grief.html

Reading the letters we receive, I’m always struck by how much, and how quickly, people convert their pain into self-loathing. My first thought when I read your letter, Heartless, was: Oh my god — you’re in pain. Your grieving isn’t over. The public ways in which your fiancé’s mom is grieving have reawakened the more private sense of shock and paralysis you felt when your father died. Your instinctive contempt for her displays of sorrow, and how she’s been able to elicit comfort, raises questions about whether you received what you needed 10 years ago, when you were so young and less equipped to ask for support, or even understand how to grieve.

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