How beautiful it was when the sun shone
And I walked with you,my dear husband, through the gardens.
How happy I was to sit with you by the lake
and to hear the water from the fountain splash.
It's our our favourite music now we cannot visit the sea
To hear the tide rush in,then fall sucking on the shingley beach.
But I see it in my minds eye.
Aldeburgh,the fishing boats go out at sunrise.
I awoke early and saw the sun across the sea
and the boats setting out in the soft light.
Dunwich,the heath filled with birds
the cliff and the beach where sometimes one can find marble
from one of the many churches washed away by the encroaching sea.
And Southwold,the marsh so quiet I heard crickets.
We went across the Blyth in the rowing boat
And saw the place from which our picture of Walberswick was painted...
If only life could be captured,slowed, for a few minutes
for us to receive the beauty and hear the sound of the sea
The everlasting music of the heart

A few weeks after Annie moved into the house next door to Stan,he met her when he was seeing his wife off to work.
Why does your wife not have a car? she enquired suspiciously.
She is trying to keep slim,Stan told her.
Well,she’s not been very successful,Annie said scientifically.
She might be much fatter than she is now if she drove a car,he stated ponderously
That’s true,muttered Annie meditatively
I am your new next door neighbor.she continued melodiously
Yes, my dear, said Stan,I have seen you sunbathing in the garden in your bikini.
How come? she asked scientifically.
There’s a big hole in the fence.
Is it legal to look at women through a hole in the fence?
asked Annie curiously.I know it’s illegal to look into their bedroom windows.
Is it really,asked Stan nervously,I had no idea.
How about women looking at men through a round hole?
Oh,they can’t be bothered to do that,she told him charmingly.
Well,said Stan,clearing his throat,I think I owe it to myself to tell you that I love you.
Wow,you’re quick off the mark,the lady said saucily.
What do you mean,you owe it to yourself? Why are you owed anything?
I don’t really,said Stan tepidly,I could not think how to word it.I mean I wish to unselfishly love you and admire your ripe body and your cute sense of color.I love your teal trouser suit.And you sing so well in the bath.
You didn’t mean you owe it to yourself to take advantage of me? she continued fluently
Not unless you want me to take advantage of you,the gallant old man informed her.
And you can take advantage of me.I make cakes and biscuits,wholemeal bread and I am training my cat, Emile, to do statistics on an i pad.
How extraordinary,Annie whispered.I didn’t know cats had an “I.” let alone pads.
Well,they have pads on their paws,he informed her intelligently.
True,she said,but where are their I’s?
Where are our I’s ?he responded in a manner to rejoice the heart of Mary Midgleyor Susanne Langer two of Stan’s favourite writers on philosophy,logic,symbols and ethics.
Not that he practiced the Ethics but he liked to know what he was doing wron
A man who seduces women merrily one after the other may have no idea it might be wrong.Neither might the women.Why is it wrong?Surely it’s better than killing people or leaving the lid off the jam all night so the wasps get into the jar?
Still,not many men get the chances that Stan got.No-one suspected this kindly,handsome practicing Catholic was a womanizer despite his blue beard,green eyes,white skin and red hair.And his slim yet strong figure clad in navy trousers and white shirts all the year round.Maybe his wife did but she preferred to read Aristotle in bed and dream about mercury… those little silver balls,so cute!
Well,as we know,Stan is about to make Annie his mistress but in such a cold wet summer,where can he take her to do the deed?
The shed?The public library? Cafe Nero?
I owe it to you not to tell you yet.That will give you time to think of a solution for this sweet old man and his naughty but nice neighbor.
Like,how about the confessional in the local Church?
Whatever next?I owe it to myself to keep it secret as you may come along and spoil the fun.
Stan went indoors and washed up in the boiling hot water he kept by him constantly as he owed it to himself to be ready to make a hot drink at any moment he fancied and by gum,he did fancy like no man has ever fancied before.So his daemon tells me.
Next time:Why did God create Stan and why does it matter?

I lie alone in my dark widows bed

The sheets are cold and do not comfort me.

How dare you leave me just because you’re dead?

When we mourn we find our friends have fled

The rites of passage lose the dignity

I lie alone it my dark widow’s bed

I remember little words you said

The blackbird sings alone in my pine tree.

How could you leave me just because you’re dead?

From our love what feelings have been bred?

Am I blind to what the world can see?

I lie alone in my dark widow’s bed

I’m angry and I’m fearful, my heart bled

If I fail the world might pity me

Why would you leave me even if you are dead?

The magic of the inner fantasy

Has no worldly power for you for me

Here I lie in my dark widow’s bed

I can’t forgive just because you’re dead

Mary cut her own toe nails
With her scissors she won’t fail
Sharp as Shap in winter snow
The scissors have a deadly glow

Today she never combed her hair
It’s so short she looks quite bare
Yet despite her hairless head
She has had some fun in bed

Maybe it was long ago
Never mind, her lover purred
Yes, she married Emile sweet
This dear cat makes her complete

But what is Emile’s second name?
Is he French or perhaps germane?
She is Mrs Nom de Plume
Emile saved her from her doom

Sometimes they ring 999
Her new doorbell is divine
In runs paramedic Dave
See his long curls as they wave

He is wearing a new skirt
With Emile he tries to flirt
But Emile is full of faith
To his new wife who is no wraith

See them eating creme brulee
So that they won’t fade away
One for Mary and Emile
Two for Dave , he had no meal

Here comes Annie with a bat
Look at this,’twas in my hat
Shall I tell it Jesus saves
Oh! what ridicule she raised

Bats can never go to Mass
They are free to sin en masse
Emile likes the Psalms and prayers
At the parson he will glare

Where is Stan, that dear old man?
He’s with a whore in hell, oh damn