https://www.theguardian.com/healthcare-network/2016/jan/28/advice-nhs-111-helpline-blind-wrong

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2022/sep/17/michael-rosen-and-his-son-joe-look-back

https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2023/mar/26/race-disparity-police-strip-searches-of-children-england-and-wales?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

My old blue fountain pen allows
The ink across the page to flow
Like wet paint from an artist’s brush;
And words come in a rush.

Enchanted by the hand that writes,
Bewitched by art, beauty alights.
The script is like a music score
Through which you pass as through a door.
Imagination’s home.

As,mysteriously,to you,to me,
The spirits of our hearts are tamed,
By rhythms of pen,of brush,of mind,
They enter vision quite unplanned,
Like moths to flutter softly round
Fire joined heart and hand.

The pen slows down,the hand goes still
And just as dreams at daybreak will,
They shrink,they disappear,they’re gone,
I almost caught that one.

Blind sight scattered my wits Like whitened bones Across the deserts of my mind. I descended into darkness. Love shrank into the tame cat By the fire,unacknowledged hate Grew to fill the room. I stared too much. A full stop grew gigantic Crowded out All the words in the sentence I saw nothing but this dot Now a gigantic black hole Into which I was dragged. An energy coming from within my own head Sucked me into the black hole. That place was the wrong sort of darkness. Within that full stop, Love Fundamental became invisible. Disappeared into the dark. I dragged my eyes away And saw the moon appear,so eerie, It shone,grey silver. If I had opened my eyes wider I would not now lament What I destroyed in the wormhole Of the black dot that drew my eye Into a tunnel of darkness It blinded me to the light Did not let me read the sentences Beside the full stop. An error of focus left hate Unacknowledged,unmitigated, unredeemed, Kept from love or goodness Afraid to spoil my love with hate, The fear of hate became That which spoiled all else else, By freezing Love itself.

I dream at nights of my old friends
My husband and his loving hands
I dream of all the cats we had
Alfred who slept on the bed
He laid his head upon my foot
As I wrote a poem of love
Jimmy who was small and black
She bit my hand if I got up
I did not wish to wet the bed
She did not understand a word I said
The last night here she gazed at me
I think she knew she would not be
Lucky was the nervous one
Black and white , apartheid none
He liked my husband’s shoulder dear
He draped himself and lost all fear
Now the cats have all gone off
I am frightened by my cough
My husband comes to me at night
Fortunately he cannot bite
He touches me with tenderness
Smiles and wished me,God Bless.
When I waken I feel lost
So I have to wear a watch
I seem to have no solid self
I feel nervous of those elves
I don’t mind an angel fierce

He could rub my aching feet
I will have no other man
They are frightened of women
They don’t like to lose at Chess
They don’t like to wash my dress
They will brush my winter coat
Never ask me what I wrote
I do not wish to anger men
They might shout and bawl again
I think maybe I will turn gay
Ask a lady, what to say?
They may not understand my needs
Killing flowers to help the weeds
Talking all the weary night
On the whole they’re parasites
Also they may menstruate
I can’t give them seeds to take
So they will leave and get a man
This is where it all began
Eve and Adam,God and man
Cain and Abel, apple flan
Noah and his Ark so fine
I wish I had one in the rain
I wonder when the world will end?
I am old so be my friend

My wife has left me for an adverb.
I don’t know which one it is!
Is it slowly,quickly, nearly?
Life should not be like a quiz.

She told me that she “nearly” loved me,
When “dearly” was what I had hoped.
Life is full of lost illusions…
How do deserted people cope?

I think I should have kept it secret,
For now I sit and sadly grieve.
Do you think my wife is cruel?
What a strange excuse to leave!

Would she leave me for a pronoun?
Would she leave for a full stop?
Would I leave you for a quote mark?
Would I fall into a dot?

Come back,darling for I love you.
I have learned I must take care.
I will go for grammar lessons.
I am sure I can learn flair!

We can write a poem together,
You can choose the topic,dear.
I will hold my pen and write for
They say true love drives out fear.

Did I fear her? Did I love her?
Was she worthy of my heart?
Did she dislike my hairy nostrils?
Was that why we had to part?

Come back Mary,come back Mavis.
Come back Sunny, come back Sue
Without my wife I feel quite lonely.
What is a poor man to do?

I admit I was unfaithful.
God made men to procreate.
Yet I loved my wife the best…
And how I loved her homemade cake

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/aharon-shabtai

https://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/7290/the-art-of-fiction-no-243-pat-barker

Stan and Mary were sitting on the patio in the damp heat of August.Emile was draped round Stan’s shoulders looking like a stole.Suddenly the door bell rang.It is aways sudden to the old
Mary got up and hoped her voile summer dress was not transparent as she walked the door nervously
There on the new Porch stood Stan’s cousin Arthur who had disappeared 30 years earlier
I thought you were in the USA, she cried in amazement and shock
I came back last summer,he told her informatively
Come in, she told him and they both appeared on the patio giving Stan a shock, though it was not electric
I’ll make some tea, she told the men,even though I am a woman.
Stan spoke briefly to Arthur, as if he were speaking through the window of the Flying
Scotsman departing from its home country
Hi,Art, I’ve got to go out in few minutes
Art stared at him before shouting
I don’t believe it, a fox fur was bad enough but to wear a dead cat
as an accessory is beyond the Pale.
Stan went red with anger
Emile is still alive,he cried
That makes it even worse, said Art
But he likes to sleep there if he can
Oh,I am sorry.I have got a UTI and it’s making me demented.Art answered nastily
I thought he was tied round your neck, he continued merrily
He would bite me if he were tied there,Stan said wisely
That’s possible,Arthut murmured nervously.I have had a breakdown and I am not very calm
In future, think for longer before attacking someone,Stan said insensitively
Alright, said Art.But at my age I might forget to remember and I could break down again
Mary cut the lemon sponge cake with a pair of barbers’ scissors, ignoring Art’s plea for help
Try this, she muttered,as she poured the tea from a coffee pot of china
What are those scissors for,Art enquired.We used a cake knife at home till Brenda died
I can cut my hair with them but they are good for other things
Is it legal,her cousin in law asked?
Do you think we need to ask for legal advice?Is there a law about scissors?
Stan stood up,I’ve had enough
What of,Mary asked.
I’ve not seen Art for 29 years and we are quarreling already
Old habits die hard, said Mary calmly
Monks’ habits, said Art in wonder?
All sorts of habits like chewing your nails and smoking
Are they alive?
I suppose it’s a metaphor,Mary said ponderously.
It means change is hard, on the whole
Yes, people are cracking up at the thought of Lockdown ending,
Stan sighed.
Everything that happens now is a trauma or is abuse, his cousin said
furiously
Well, maybe it was before but we weren’t allowed to mention it
Emile woke up and stretched
It’s Twitter and FB, he mewed.People with no knowledge of an issue write as if they are experts and then other people believe it
Like already people are saying they don’t believe Meghan Markle
could be depressed when pregnant.Yet there is evidence that pre-natal depression exists or at least anxiety about looking after a baby can worry many people
A woman drowned herself recently in the reservoir as she was terrified of giving birth and the pain
Well said,Emile,shouted Art.I think we can be friends
No, you can’t,Stan told him in a cruel tone
I never want to see Art ever again.
Shall I take all the pictures down, said Mary
What are you talking about?
Well, they are Art!
Women, why are they so clever?
And so say all of us

Mary was sitting feeling quite lonely in the waiting room outside the doctor’s office when she saw Emile hiding under a chair..
What are you doing,she whispered.I’m glad of your company
I jumped into your cab, the cheeky cat informed her proudly
I want to be there when he examines you.
Don’t worry,she answered,they always have a chaperone nowadays.
Just then a pretty young black nurse took Mary into a room and said to her
Take off your underpants,please!
I don’t wear underpants,said Mary,but I can go home and get my husband’s if you want me to.
We use underpants as a generic term,the nurse informed her in a kindly yet menacing voice.
Wow,they are so intelligent nowadays,I don’t think I knew what generic meant till recently Mary told herself stupidly thinking of the hours she had spent trying to grasp infinitesmally small numbers as they flew by.
I have no underpants,Emile mewed.peevishly.
No and I am not making you any.I have quite enough washing to do already.Mary responded thoughtlessly yet maturely imagining Emile wearing a three piece suit.
It’s not fair, said Emile.All my friends have underpants and T shirts too.Why not me?
But the doctor came in and looked nervously at Mary and at her female parts.
Mary was used to this but all of a sudden she got a nasty pain when he opened the speculum out
Ow,ow,ow,she shrieked,what is that pain I got?
It’s ok,said the nurse,just old ladies are not used to this sort of thing.
I’ll have you know many older ladies are very used to sexual activity and joy but not when they are unaroused .Besides men’s organs are usually kinder than metal or plastic if and only if the lady is willing.Can’t you put more lubricant on the damned thing
The doctor tried to remove the speculum but was clearly agitated.
Ouch,cried Mary.Ouch.It hurts still!
Thank goodness I didn’t know it would hurt.Do you think we should be shown a romantic arousing film in the waiting room to make it easier for the doctor?
We can’t do that,said the nurse.We might be accused of running a brothel.
But the doctor is not paying me,said Mary.I am paying him, in a sense,as a taxpayer.
You are too clever for me,said the nurse sharply
I shall bring a vibrator next time,Mary told her,though she had neYou can’t bring a vibrator or the doctor will be angry as he might be accused of misconduct if you enjoyed yourself, the nurse whispered
I thought it was only misconduct if he enjoyed himself,Mary cried loudly
He has seen so many ladies, it is just like seeing into a mouth for him,said the nurse churlishly.
I expect one gets used to anything in time,Mary murmured,but I hope he will not do that again to me.
No, you seem ok,the doctor said,but I seem to imagine I see a cat under the table.What is he doing?
I am just keeping an eye on you,mewed Emile.I live with Mary.
No animals are allowed in here ,the doctor shouted.
A bit late now,mewed the cat.Are you sending for the cat police?
Dr.Grey picked up a very large speculum and threatened to strike Emile.
Now then,said the nurse, he might scratch my legs.Leave him alone.He’s just protecting her.
Fat lot of good he was,Mary thought.
The doctor approached Mary and told her she would be seeing a consultant soon… in the meantime should she do anything to prepare… she asked.
Well, do try to relax if you can, he told her gently.It is trying for ladies of riper years to attend hospitals but we only want to help you.
I’ll have to help myself,Mary thought wryly as she got down off the table and put on her red and purple knickers or “underpants” as they are now referred to as.
Thank God,that is over,she whispered to Emile.Let’s run out and get a cab.
She hobbled to the door and phoned the taxi firm with her mobile.I just want to get home she told the driver.
Don’t we all, he said in an Eton accent.Surely it’s not David Cameron in disguise canvassing patients?Thank God he’s not conducting pelvic exams on them!That would lose him the election whether he was any good or not… in my view,but then what do I know about the British electorate?

My Irish accent was so bad it perforated UIster
I asked for Chicken Kerry not a Dead Duck
Do we really need Cork with everything?
I have Celtic feet not sweltering heat
I said,Donegal, not, don’t call
I said Castlebar not how far
I want a trim to my hair,Antrim I spy
I said Dublin, not “love in”
I said we went to Howth not I swore an oath
I said Nelson’s column not “hell is coming”
Where is County Teeth and why not Meath?
That’s a relief from belief
I like Tralee but does it like me?
Why is the Spanish lady Irish?

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2024/feb/04/we-are-free-to-change-the-world-hannah-arendt-lessons-in-love-disobedience-review-lyndsey-stonebridge?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

https://lithub.com/pat-barker-to-be-a-writer-you-must-resist-the-urge-to-clean/

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/jan/04/pat-barker-women-carry-the-can-long-term

https://hbr.org/2016/11/have-we-been-thinking-about-willpower-the-wrong-way-for-30-years

https://www.themarginalian.org/2012/12/12/montaigne-on-death-and-the-art-of-living/

https://www.perkins.org/resource/chromebook-and-low-vision-maximizing-success/#:~:text=For%20students%20with%20more%20significant,in%20half%20into%20a%20tablet).

Standon church, the village and the ford

How the eye will wander as it stares

Lazy cows stand idly by the gate

How deep silence holds and melts our cares.

The heavy load of work, the children’s gaze.

The weight of coppers spoils the father’s clothes

The cake stand gleams, sadistically exposed

The cat sleeps on,while Barclays Bank is closed

We left the car beside the butcher’s shop

Climbed up to the church his mother moaned

She enjoyed the view down this long Street.

Despite the aching of her twisted toes.

Now they’re gone and I stand here alone

I see your face, your eyes,your smiling bones

When I went out this morning I was wrapped in a red and blue coat with a blue scarf covered in red hearts wrapped twice round my neck.A man came along by me and looked back.He was speaking

“You’ve got something on your leg”

I looked down and there was a red and blue silk tie round my ankle, the property of my late husband
So I said, can’t you just leave me a note? I see you approve of my colour scheme…..

Sometimes I find a tie in the bathroom.I find a newly ironed hankey on my chair.If only he would iron my trousers or my pink blouse with rows of shirred pleats that’s been waiting for 4 months.

More often I find a coin and ,if lucky, enough for a cup of coffee.I wonder what will happen if I go out with a man…. will he be happy? I shall never know as I refuse to date anybody.I still believe my husband will get permission to return like Jesus did.But will I know?

The geese have changed their flight path to the lake
For further to the East a river runs
Once used for milling flour for bread and cake
For making bulbs for lights and wartime guns

The lightbulbs were a fiction in the War
Radar was the secret they researched
An old man in my Art Class once worked there
A physicist who worshipped still in Church

God and radar,guns and shells and tanks
Angels,demons,Jesus Christ we’re damned
Money lenders,presidents and Banks
Evil now seems normal in our land

We saved the world from Hitler but we died
No souls survive nuclear matricide

Attracted by the light that is enough

We need not look for wisdom somewhere else

Wandering through the world so dark and rough

We may find the secret in ourselves

The sacred is as spare as leaves are fine

No wasted bud no colour in excess

So loving senses decorate the mind

We need not hide from chaos or distress.

The secret Life is here, the every day

This is where wknow the mystic light

Our tongues alone will tell us what to say

Our normal eyes will show us holy signs

for with our shadowed selves we rightly play

Enlightened by the flowers so wild and free

The sacred is on earth for you and me

O

Why You Need a Network of Low-Stakes, Casual Friendships https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/06/smarter-living/why-you-need-a-network-of-low-stakes-casual-friendships.html?smid=nytcore-android-share

Mathematics cannot say

Why the branches with air play.

Nor how the chilly winter breeze

Rearranges these bare trees

How they dance above their roots

Though they have no feet nor shoes

In the dark night while we rest

They dance to music ,loving guests

When humid heat weighs down the air

They dance lightly everywhere