Stan was feeling somewhat glum,nay even despairing,on Monday morning.
Mary had gone to work on her new folding 6 gear bicycle with own basket and an extra basket from Wells-next -the- Sea 1995
[the wicker basket now somewhat grey in hue.]
He was left at home sorting out all his art work and materials as well as doing the baking,cooking and bathing Emile,the delightful yet trying male cat.
Sunk in dark misery,Stan sat in an old uncomfortable chair in the darkest part of the room, while Emile snored on the rug by the bright French windows
.Stan went through all the possible reasons for his state of mind.Was he guiltyabout his flings with his alluring next door neighbour Annie?
Could it be his failure to toilet train Emile? Or his omitting to carry out the penance given by Father Brown after Stan confessed to stealing sweets on the way to Confession in 1956?
The longer Stan brooded the more reasons he found for his depression.
He could hardly get up to make a cup of coffee ..even instant seemed too much trouble.Would he even clean his teeth which somehow he’d failed to do?
The doorbell rang… it was a new cord for his laptop as Emile had been chewing the current one ,and 29 books in a sack from Amazon which his wife must have ordered,as he had no recollection of any such foolish spending.
How would they pay the bill on the credit card? he ruminated.
Later in the day.Annie peered through the window.She tapped on the glass with her well manicured blue finger nails.
Let me in she cried.
I’m too tired for any hanky panky he murmured lovingly as he ran his fingers through her thick red tresses.What is this delightful perfume,beloved,he questioned her.
It’s Poison! she replied.Oh no,sorry it’s Iris and Jasmine Eau de toilette from the Bodyshop.
Despite his lowly sunken state Stan loved this perfume.He sniffed rabidly at her well rounded form
.Well,shall we have some tea,she enquired.
Stan sat there hand on chest.I’ve been feeling a little gloomy,he muttered.She peered at him.
You look terribly pale,Stan.Where’s your angina spray?
I can’t recall,he said.Oh,here it is in my vest.
What a strange place to keep it,she responded.
Mary made pockets for all my vests.at one time you could buy vests with pockets
She’s good at sewing despite being so clever.In fact she loves doing things with her hands.
Annie got the GNT spray out and handed it to him.
Have you got a pain?
Well,yes,now you mention it,I do,he replied verbosely.
Well,in the name of God, use the bloody thing,she whispered endearingly into his left ear.
He opened his mouth,raised his tongue and with his hand resting lightly on his chin he pressed the button with his forefinger.
His head began to throb.
Annie appeared with a cup of Earl Grey tea and a biscuit.
Why,you look a little better.Do you need another dose?
No,I feel much better now.I’ve had it before.
He drank the tea but didn’t eat the biscuit which he threw out later in crumbs for the field mice in the shed.
His spirits began to rise.Why did he always forget that physical ailments can worsen a mood?He still felt a trifle glum but nothing a meringue wouldn’t put right.
OK,what shall I make for Mary’s supper? he enquired.
You sit there in the window and I’ll just make my special spaghetti,Annie replied gaily,as long as I can stay too.
Yes,I’ll open some red wine he said youthfully,and we can have fried apples and bananas for pudding with non fat Greek yoghurt.
What a wise choice she murmured gently into his ear………that will use up some of the newly picked apples,the bananas were from Lidl’s as usual.
Well,Stan you look better.said Mary happily,You’ve been pale all weekend.Was it Annie who cheered you up,not to put too fine a point on it?
Actually it was nitroglycerine,he said roguishly,but Annie made me use it.
But for us women you’d be dead,she replied equably.
But for you delightful creatures I wouldn’t be here at all,he moaned ecstatically.
Now then Stan,control yourself she urged,After all we have a visitor,Annie!
What a hoot,he thought as he twisted spaghetti round his fork in a careless manner splashing tomato sauce all over his new green acrylicjumper.
Thank the Lord for washing machines,Mary said.
I didn’t know Jesus invented them,Annie said with a tone of mild sarcasm but no-one bothered to reply.

As told by Emile to the local paper.
And believed by all of us

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Characters/ClassicalMythology

Artemis

Goddess of young women, of virginity, childbirth (yes, both at the same time), Women’s Mysteries, forests and hills, hunting, and, later, the moon (along with Selene). Essentially a liminal goddess who protected women throughout their lives. The Romans equated her with their goddess Diana.

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• Action Girl: A talented archer and warrior.
• All Amazons Want Hercules: The only man she may have been interested in, depending on your myth, is the great hunter Orion. Unfortunately, Apollo disapproved of their relationship and tricked Artemis into killing him.
• Amazon Brigade: Had a train of warrior nymphs assisting her in her hunts. They were sworn to virginity and severely punished if they broke their oath.
• Archer Archetype: She emulates Zeus by standing on the peak of a mountain and shooting down arrows on whatever she feels like.
• Disproportionate Retribution: Actaeon, Callisto and Niobe are the most famous victims.
• Does Not Like Men: And that’s putting it mildly. Pretty much the only guys she was pleasant to were Apollo, Orion, and her priest Hypolitus.
  • It’s often subject to Flanderization in modern media. No, she didn’t like men, but looking at her relationship with Orion, Apollo, Zeus, and others, she didn’t dislike them either. Considering how much misogyny was in Classical Mythology, that’s actually rather impressive.
• Half Identical Twin: Her brother Apollo.
• Humanoid Abomination: A surprising example (especially when considering how Olympians are essentially humans with powers), her Ephesian depiction, while humanoid, makes her pretty much Lovecraftian. To the point that some Cthulhu Mythos writers identify such statues as an image of Shub-Niggurath.
• Improbable Aiming Skills: Was tricked into sniping Orion from an island while he was in the middle of the ocean.
• The Lad-ette: Commonly portrayed as such in modern media, but the original myths often suggest otherwise.
• Lunacy: She was associated with the moon.
• Masculine Girl, Feminine Boy: Rough-and-tumble Masculine Girl to her brother’s artsy Feminine Boy.
• Naked First Impression: This happened with Actaeon. It didn’t end well.

• Plague Master: She was also the goddess of disease, plague, and sudden death.
  • More so with her nymphs. In his Hymn to Artemis, poet Callimachus asks himself what nymph obtains Artemis’ love and then proceeds to list her favorites.
• Virgin Power: Was one of the three virgin goddesses, along with Athena and Hestia.
• Western Zodiac: Traditionally associated with Sagittarius, as the archer.

Why not donate to McMillan Cancer Care if you are British?See more photos

http://www.redonline.co.uk/health-self/self/reading-poetry-is-good-for-you

 

“It reduces feelings of isolation and depression

As readers we take comfort in knowing we are not isolated in our struggles. Somebody has felt this way before! If you’re anxious, melancholy or grieving, the poet’s words mean that you no longer have to feel alone, and poetry can give hope for the future and even some excellent advice. Dorothy Parker’s splendid company at any time, but particularly if you’ve just been dumped.

It can boost your mood

Poetry isn’t just for leaning on during hard times. It’s a thrill to read a poem that encapsulates – more elegantly than we ever could – how it feels to be deliriously happy, or perfectly tranquil, or deeply in love. It’s one of the reasons that sharing poetry is so popular at weddings.

It can take you to the country in the heart of the city

A poem becomes an incantation to transport you from the humdrum daily world, an escape hatch from the commute, the queue and the waiting room. Choose verses about dancing daffodils, dappled things or stopping by woods on a snowy evening to provide yourself with a mental gulp of healthy fresh air, a magical five minute trip to the countryside while you pound the pavements.

It can calm you down

When I find I’m really about to lose my temper, counting to ten is good – but reciting a silly poem is better (out loud, it has the added benefit of getting the attention of tantrum-throwing children, but in your head is probably better for the platform when your train is delayed.) The poems from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland are my go-to for these times. It’s impossible to grit your teeth while mentally running through ‘You are old, Father William’s perky stanzas.

It can say what you can’t

Poems can also say something we might find difficult to, if we can’t find the words to comfort the bereaved, or are too bashful to talk about our affection. Candlestick Press (http://www.candlestickpress.co.uk) publish a range of beautiful pamphlets covering all manner of subjects from kindness and tea through friendship to cycling, which can be sent instead of a disposable greetings card and enjoyed over and over again.”