https://www.merriam-webster.com/thesaurus/destiny

Allocking means killing time

.Agate means at wotk in Bolton dialect

That’s killing time

Am allocking agen today
That’s killin’ time, as now we say
Ah,shud be agate but oh ah can’t
Work ‘as gotten ‘ard teh find

Ma mammy’s ill and she’ll soon die
I must wear a suit and tie
Allocking meks me feel ill
Did mother make a legal will?

Am all allooan up on’t Pike
Rivington is weear folk hike
Am all allooan and ah feel low
Allocking is touch ‘n go

Where’s mi daddy an’ ‘is pipe
Where’s dad’s jacket,full ah smoke?
I want him back ,mi mam’s alloooan
You ‘ed wonder at ‘er groans

Where’s mi cat and where’s mi dog
Where’s ower’ handmade fireside rug?
Made ‘eh rags and hooked through cloth
Eeh, won’t God be filled with wrath?

God is never all allooan
Never allocks, he’s a stone
Amno bettin’ ‘eaven exists
That’s why all wa men get pissed

But ah’ve seen Hell ,oh Ama sure?
Nothin’ yooman shall endure.

By the lily pond 2012

Shimmering light
The lily pond
The music of your eye
The touch of your arm
Your always honey smell.
I love.
Rustling trees in a row,
A wide green lawn;
People stoop to see small flowers.
A snail on the path.
The perfecton of the shell.
I believe
Unusually tall dandelions
at the edge of this wood
Wave in the warm west wind.
We smile.
Sitting pen in hand
I wonder what I would have written
In all the letters I’ve not sent you.
Far away on the Ridgeway,
Cars,seem small as ants,
Rush towards the motorway.
They make us laugh.
How green the meadows are
How fresh the old trees.
I gaze at you.
I find I am.
It’s mutual.
I thank you

,Masud Khan thought

.human beings had “from time immemorial” needed an “other” to relate to in order to have stability and to learn about the self and, in prior eras, people used God as the “other” with whom they could relate.3 But as religion became less personal, the relationship to God was replaced by friendship with mortals, and mortals served the purpose as well as God had: “To sense oneself alive in another’s preoccupations is to be in a state of grace.”4 Love relations were important, he said, but friendship lasted longer.

From the book

False self

by Linda Hopkins

The path on Arnside Knott came to the shore
Where sea and river meet at my heart’s core
Where wild flowers grow, where butterflies float on.
The views of Lakeland Hills ,so ravishing

My heart was only half alive till then
The land surpassed imagination
I was used to mills and dirty air
Despite the heather moors and hilltops bare

Later death came near on Langdale Pike
My fingertips were hurting,feet agape
Then my toe was back on a foothold
The shadow of the mountain huge and cold

Beauty,love and death, the opera calls
Singing as we walk the danger walls

https://www.emmahigginbotham.com/recent-interviews/alexander-mccall-smith

 I recommend this  interview very strongly.

https://aeon.co/essays/a-rare-interview-with-philip-pullman-the-religious-atheist

 

 

“‘I like to say I’m a complete materialist but…’ Pullman allows himself an English teacher’s dramatic pause, ‘matter is conscious. How do I know that? Because I’m matter and I’m conscious.’ Once again, Pullman opts for complexity and nuance, and you can hear the same dislike of hierarchies in his critique of some popular science. ‘What you often get in people of this stripe (and Brian Cox — the TV physicist — goes in for it as well), is a sentence of the formula “X is no more than/just/merely/nothing but Y.” For example: “The world is nothing but the action of molecules” or “Love is merely the movement of electrons in the brains.” Sentences of that sort are nearly always mistaken,’ says Pullman. ‘I would prefer they were put in the form of “Love is a movement of electrons in the brain, among other things.”’

‘Among other things’ would be a great motto for Pullman’s ambivalence (or should that be multivalence?) about matters of belief, fiction and science. He is of the old school of secularism which holds that faith should be kept out of the public sphere, but still refuses the kind of inquisition that seeks to root out mistaken beliefs: ‘What you feel and believe are private to you and belong to nobody else,’ he counters. ‘What you do in the public sphere is what’s important.’

Yet on one thing, Pullman’s faith is profound and unshakeable. He’s now in his mid-60s, and though he thinks about death occasionally, it never wakes him up in a sweat at night. ‘I’m quite calm about life, about myself, my fate. Because I knew without doubt I’d be successful at what I was doing.’ I double-take at this, a little astounded, but he’s unwavering. ‘I had no doubt at all. I thought to myself, my talent is so great. There’s no choice but to reward it. If you measure your capacities, in a realistic sense, you know what you can do.’”

I do not see my future, how to go
But now I have steam cleaned the kitchen floor
If I run out of all my china plates
I’ll eat meat off the floor till I am late.

I only see a half of what most see.
But still enjoy to swill my throat with tea.
The world is so delightful, I must smile
My grin is wider than the Royal Mile,

We wonder about ethics and virtue
But what matters is our choice and choose we do.
The new doormat’s good, for it is bright
My little bay tree loves the air and light

When the dirt is vanquished for a time
I sit down with a pen and start to write.
Dirt’s a symbol of our human sin
Yet without it, plants have nothing to grow in

So dirt and dust, creative elements
Are only bad when they create a stench
I found some fruit that rotted in its bag
The odour was, in its way, very bad.

At first, I could not locate the odour’s source
I wondered if it came from my parts “coarse”
But no I’ve never smelled as bad
As bananas stuck inside a plastic bag

And do it is when we wear manmade cloth
The heat of polyester brings out wrath
For sweat or moisture can’t evaporate
We swelter like a vine of purple grapes.

She has  an Ulster on tow

So there’s more than one Elstree then?

Does your Android Copperfield?

It was just Barbara King’s ulva.

Where is an ulva  or all of you laugh?

This is not my English sense.

Is it your Irish scent?

Do you mean my accent?

I didn’t know your act had an odour

Is  it the order of sanctity?

I see someone who’s not a bishop has been made a cardinal.

It’s all just Circus location.

I suppose the odour and the accent traveled around with the circus

Well they couldn’t travel by themselves

I have never seen an accent without seeing a person

Because you have heard an accent without hearing the person?

Similarly it’s unusual to impel an odour without seeing somebody.

La casa address

I mean a psychiatrist.

What about a psychoanalist?

You’re fined

What for?

The smell icing.

Well there’s always been a bias against dialect.

That can’t be true because at the beginning the dialect was the language so they couldn’t have been a bias against it

It’s the people who spoke the dial out Lucifer from bias

The people who spoke the dialect who suffer from the bias o or the prejudice

Oldest started because I’ve got an ulcer on my toe and from that much stranginess is flowed I only wish the also would flow or fly

Or else,oh!

https://www.thetimes.com/article/39979ebe-07fb-4ab5-8b0e-81f0685bfc4c?shareToken=c0ead3d35ceb4bf0615f1d0b6b605790

King solver says that

sexist and racist attitudes are now less acceptable. “But classism, we have made no progress. Urban well-to-do people still make jokes about dumb hillbillies … Even the very progressive people still buy into the meritocracy

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.

Iris Murdoch