When I cannot tell you how I feel
When I want your presence without speech
I talk about the weather like a fool
Sometimes when I’m tired I feel unreal
Or life seems lost and meaning outward leaks
Then I can not tell you how I feel.
Some months have their winds to make misrule
Others throttle throats and freeze the cheeks
I talk about the weather , as its cool.
We must keep moving or our blood congeals
So sheep must on moorland frosty, bleak
I don’t want to lie , for life is real
When winter mocks our age I find it cruel
Yet you are old and for amusement look
I talk about the sunshine like a fool
Oh, happy snowfalls keeping us from school
As on the ice we tumbled with loud shrieks
When I cannor tell you how I feel
The weather stands for what I have concealed
The need for some simple source of relaxation can be seen in the initial surge in popularity of the adult colouring book, as well as last year’s 13.3% increase in sales of books providing spiritual guidance on how to live in a hectic world, and the mindfulness “mega trend” seen in Hehadspace, the meditation app that has been downloaded more than 15m times. Those of us who spent our money on these products were presumably searching for answers to some of the same questions – and many of us are still looking. The bottom has now dropped out of the colouring book market, with Forbes declaring it “dead” in May, and, in June last year, Headspace laid off 13 staff members.
According to a report by Ofcom this summer: “Most people in the UK are dependent on their digital devices and need a constant connection to the internet.” It found that 78% of us now own a smartphone – rising to 95% of 16- to 24-year-olds. We check these phones on average every 12 minutes of our waking lives, with 54% of us feeling that the devices interrupt our conversations with friends and family, and 43% of us feeling that we spend too much time online. We can’t relax with them, and we don’t know how to relax without them. Seven in 10 of us never turn them off.
The clinical psychologist Rachel Andrew says she sees the problem every day in her consulting room, and it is getting worse. “I’ve noticed a rise in my practice, certainly over the last three to five years, of people finding it increasingly difficult to switch off and relax. And it’s across the lifespan, from age 12 to 70,” she says. The same issues come up again and again: technology, phones, work emails and social media.
Kicking back in front of one screen or another does have its place, says Andrew – but it depends how you do it. “Sometimes people describe not being engaged in what they’re looking at – totally zoning out, not knowing what they’ve done for the last half-hour,” she says. “You can view this almost as dissociation, periods of time when your mind is so exhausted and overwhelmed it takes itself out of the situation. That’s unlikely to be nourishing in any way.” Maybe that is why, after I have spent an evening staring emptily at Twitter, or dropping off in front of the TV – less Netflix and chill, more Netflix and nap – I wake up feeling as if I have eaten a load of junk food. I have confused feeling brain-dead with feeling relaxed.
The psychoanalyst David Morgan, of the Institute of Psychoanalysis, believes that for many of us this deadening retreat to our screens is both a reason for and a consequence of the fact that we no longer know how to relax and enjoy ourselves. Our screens and what we use them for are all techniques of distraction, he says. “People have got so used to looking for distraction that they actually cannot stand an evening with themselves. It is a way of not seeing oneself, because to have insight into oneself requires mental space, and all these distraction techniques are used as a way of avoiding getting close to the self.”
Some of her patients, Andrew explains, simply never get around to thinking about how they want to spend their time. “People say they are so busy doing the ‘shoulds’,” she says – whether that is working, caring for family or being a part of demanding friendships – that by the time an evening or weekend comes around when they might do what they want, there is no energy or motivation left for anything but “flopping out”. She adds: “That’s a difficulty – because how is life enjoyable or satisfying in the long term if you’re only doing what you should do the whole time?”
For others, the notion of being in touch with their own needs and desires is totally alien, says Andrew. People who grew up in a family environment that centred around the needs of a sibling or a parent might have spent their whole lives never being asked about what they wanted to do. “It might genuinely be something they’ve never considered before,” she says. For those people, identifying something they might find enjoyably relaxing, and pursuing it, can be a huge, life-changing shift. “It can be quite dramatic.”
Another problem is that it can be tricky to untangle our own wishes from those of the people around us, says Nina Grunfeld, the founder of Life Clubs, an organisation that aims to help people live more fulfilling lives. It can take a lot of effort to discover where your enjoyment ends and your partner’s begins. “When my husband and I were young,” she says, “we went to Rome on holiday, and he wanted to go to every church, every restaurant, every everything. And I got home completely shattered. It was only after coming to know myself, after thinking about my life without him and what I like as an individual, that I realised that for me to enjoy a holiday and to come back feeling relaxed and refreshed, I need to read and be still. Now we’ll go on holiday and he goes off to do the churches by himself, but I’m very happy just lying by the beach, pool or fire and reading. It’s a real treat. I might join him for the restaurants, though.”
Speaking to Grunfeld and Andrew, and hearing their advice (see ) on how to identify different occupations that might relax and reinvigorate me, I begin to feel optimistic. I think back to how I liked to pass the time when I was young; the quiet times sitting reading a book, the rowdier times baking with friends. I resolve to make more time to do the adult versions of these things over the next year – then realise I am making excuses. If I could redirect the evenings I am already wasting on screens, that would be a good start.
The fact is, I do already do all those ideal things occasionally, but sometimes it feels as if being in the world is too much, and I need to disappear from it by losing myself in a screen. It is as if I crave that brain-dead feeling, even though I know it isn’t good for me.Having psychoanalytic psychotherapy is helping me to think about the reasons why I might do this – and for Morgan, therapy can be an important pathway out of being stuck in a screen-gazing rut, because it is somewhere a person is encouraged to use his or her mind. “The therapeutic space is the opposite of distraction – it’s concentration,” he says. “When people come into my consulting room, they often tell me it’s the first time they have ever felt they have had a space where they can’t run away from things.”
I have found that not running away from things, but confronting them and reflecting on them, can feel as exhausting as the running itself. It is difficult, disturbing work. But in a room with someone who can listen and help me to make sense of things, it can also be a relief. Morgan tells me: “We have all these various ways of distracting ourselves from the most important fact of life – that we live, and then we die. Having a mind to help you think about things, having a person who can think deeply about things with you, is a way to manage this very frightening fact of life.”
The flip side of that frightening fact is, of course, the realisation that since we don’t have much time on this planet, it is a shame to waste any of it voluntarily making ourselves brain-dead.
Top tips: rediscover the lost art of relaxation
• If you are spending time with family or friends over the festive period, Nina Grunfeld recommends assigning each person one hour in which they are in charge of the group’s schedule, when they can choose whichever activity they consider most relaxing. “One of my children might decide we all have to play a video game; another will decide we are all going for a walk; another will make us all bake cakes. That way you all get a bit of ‘me-time’, and you can experience someone else’s – and it’s very relaxing not having to make decisions for the whole day,” she says.
• Try to remember what you most enjoyed doing as a child, then identify the most important aspect of that activity and find the adult version. Grunfeld says: “It might be that you can’t remember, and you have to ask friends or family, or look at old photo albums. There are normally themes in all of our lives, and if we’re missing those themes as an adult, it’s almost as if we’re not a whole person.” If you loved playing in the sandpit, you might want to try pottery, or if you liked building things, you might want to make bread.
• Experiment with looking at the world in a new way. “Allow yourself to explore. Just walk around wherever you are and see what you can find that is completely new. Try to get lost – whenever you get to a turning, ask yourself do you want to go left or right, and see where you end up,” says Grunfeld.
• If you have no idea how to start relaxing, look at the science, says Rachel Andrew. “There is a growing body of research to suggest being out in nature is uplifting and nourishing.”
Q
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I once became interested in virtue and perception.It began when I read a little Aristotle about virtue being a habit.That was quite recent.Before that for many years I believed virtuous acts would follow from being able to perceive well.But when we are fraught our minds and eyes tighten up and so we perceive only what may be a danger to us.To perceive others well we need to be in a position to trust others and we need to feel secure.How is this possible?
From my studies I read that our ability to trust begins with a trusted caregiver in infancy,[See” atttachment and loss “by John Bowlby reference to come] We may be able to become more secure later by good fortune,friendship and love.
If not,I seem to get the idea that if we are insecure and nervous we cannot truly perceive others and they may be in the same position.If we are very afraid then virtuous acts may be hard to accomplish. The reason is obvious… when. we are concerned with mere survival as a person , in that state what we do to others may be impossible for us to consider.We cannot truly see them and so we cannot act well towards them except by good luck.
Or if we are able to tolerate great anxiety,we may see better…. if not we are incapable…. Those whom we cannot see properly we cannot truly consider with feeling and act on this feeling.We see them partly or mainly in terms of the fearful fantasies in our minds and cannot see them as other and interesting.When we make a friend online we may feel safer but in fact we are more likely to misperceive them.
When we are from a sad a or difficut background it may help greatly if we have some friends who might point out our errors if we trust enough to tell them.Or we may pretend to be hard and tough.Neither leads to virtue.
If we trust God it may help but I believe we see God through the lens of our parents.. which is not good…depending on the parents. When we live in fear,we cannot see what is there before us.We cannot let go.We cannot accept grace and love nor give it.We will try to live by will power.Ironically people who are fearful inside can develop a shell of toughness and pride and so are not seen as vulnerable and/or lovable.Tbey may seem frightening to others. This account may help to explain why politics is the way it is and also we see that arguing is not persuasive when the other is not able to open up and see things more broadly.Arguing makes us tighten up and see less well.And it can be frightening too though some cultures find it more acceptable than others.
“There is a fundamental difference between practising the Greek virtues of patience, justice or courage, and practising the American virtue of cheerfulness, which borders on psychosis. Patience asks us to change our behaviour, but it neither asks us to feel differently nor to pretend to feel differently. Granted, Aristotle believed that practising patience over a length of time would naturally make us more patient, but pretence was never part of the deal. You can act patient while feeling impatient, and it’s no lie. But when you fake cheerfulness, you are telling someone else that you feel fine when you don’t. This encourages the most maddening American T-shirts and aprons that say: ‘Smile! Happiness looks gorgeous on you!’
Cheerfulness conceived as a virtue – à la Boy Scout Law – instead of a spontaneous feeling is a pretence. It’s not an action but it is an act. Whistling while you work might be worth defending, but forcing yourself to smile when you don’t feel like it amounts to lying to the people around you. ‘Fake it till you make it’ has brutal consequences when applied to the emotions. “
Drowned by words whose owner could not speak Disordered and untimely they came down Her mind had lost its senses, its critiques
She did not wish to see a world so bleak She lay there like a fox on bloody ground Crowded by the slobbering hounds she shrieked
I asked if Su Doku would bring her peace She beat me with a heavy pan all round Her mind had lost its pity in her grief
I begged her use a hammer,kill or tease She cried out, oh, my wi fi has gone down She drowned in mobile phones which could not speak
She begged me to cook dumplings with the beef Atora still make suet, it’s renowned, Her mind had lost its legacies, its reach
I bought a bunch of roses from a clown The thorns a sharp reminder of her nouns Spared the words this woman could not speak Our silence gave me comfort, yet I weep
And now,Mrs Mary Tan, will you tell the Judge and Jury what you were doing at 6.45 pm? I was doing the Times Super Fiendish Crossword Puzzle no 76 But why would that stop you answering the door? Er,I had stomach ache Do you find Su Doku a cure? No,I only wish I did.I see how many puzzles I can solve while in the bathroom What is the average Three What is the range? From 1 to 5.I am afraid I don’t know the standard deviation What is the most ever Five.I am hoping they will make some harder ones So you heard the bell ring.You were upstairs.Could nobody answer the door? I suppose Emile might but the lock is too high Who is Emile? Is he your Lover No, he is my cat. Can he speak English? Well,I think so.Why don’t you come round and see him? I have no time. So you cleaned the floor and made the bed Then I set to work on Dirac’s Equation Does Dirac mind? Why should he mind? He is dead. Oh I hoped to see him. You must go to a Seance then So you were lost in thought when a magpie tapped on the window Correct What does it mean? It wanted a mince pie. But who had been knocking on the door Another magpie Are you sure? No.It could have been a Crow Well, that’s all the questions I have for this person.My Lord Next witness please Hello,I am Mrs Magpie You are human! I believe so
Never finish a sentence before ending it Never begin a sentence with a word Never end one with but. Never free associate if writing to the government Never be over-cautious. Never end a word with a letter.And vice versa Never give your name to the papers Never dream about yourself Never pass water.Have a drink. Never take a random sample of your dreams out of your head Never cut your own hair while typing on it Never believe anything you read. Never eat breakfast before you go to bed Never do su doku puzzles unless you are in the bathroom all night Never say a cross word.Just smoulder. Never sulk for more than 5 minutes Never make preparations after you begin
Mary heard a very strange sound as she came down the polished stairs of her bijou home.It was a loud two part shriek. I wonder if that’s the new answering machine, she thought as she went to put the kettle on to make a pint of tea.She heard it again,but it was not continuous Well it’s not the carbon monoxide detector either,she told Emile who was eating a sardine.Then she remembered hearing it before. It’s the old phone handset with a flat battery,se murmured as she washed her hair in the kitchen sink with some Persil Silk and Wool detergent. Annie came to the door What’s that beep ?she cried.And why are you washing your hair here? See if you can spot the phone.I can’t find it,Mary told her.I wash my hair sometimes just to clear my brain Well,why not keep some shampoo here or that new wash and condition in one go I have found the phone.It was in the waste paper basket!But you can’t put it in the bin,can you? No I will have to pay £20 for a cab to the recycling centre,Mary said philosophically. I’d better not leave it “by accident” on a bench given the current climate of fear. Well if we remove the batteries it won’t shriek any more,Annie told her kindly. How is the new phone doing ? she rambled on unthinkingly OK.It has a special button so you can block someone after you have picked it up.There is some much fear now about WITHELD NUMBERS.At one time we only knew after we picked it up.If I use my phablet my sister hates it..Mary disclosed.She refused to have more than 2 numbers for me so it comes up as UNKNOWN What is a phablet? Annie enquired sardonically,her little soft eyes crinkling with laughter which showed off her turquoise eye shadow which is actually a pastel stick from her art box! It’s just a small tablet but you can make phone calls with it. I didn’t know you had one of those! Neither did Stan,Mary said with a touch of sadness.I only wish we could phone heaven from earth. Wow,said Annie.Maybe it would spoil heaven… How true, her friend responded.Let’s hope they have some attitude that they makes them have a different point of view from us. Now,I’ll dry my hair and you can tell me why you came. Oh,dear,said Annie.Let me drink some tea.I can’t remember except that your wisteria has climbed up the rowan tree. Was it shopping? Was it Dave?Let’s ring 999 and see what he has to say. We’re all gray here,no fuss We’ll all go play with puss,Emile,come back
When Mary came out of the chiropody clinic, she walked round the corner to the new cafe where she ate a piece of cake and had a cup of tea .The cafe was almost empty and the waitress seemed delighted to see her ;she sat gazing at the Tudor wall across the road. The cake was delicious, indeed it was sinful to a normal person and deadly to a diabetic. After drinking her tea she went into the Polish shop to buy some of their wonderful bread. The only problem with their food was that all the labels were in Polish and Mary decided that she had enough to do without learning Polish As she approached the till by the door, a young woman seemed to be having some trouble with her groceries. She looked in her purse, she looked at the assistant she seemed to be trying to remove some groceries but could not make up her mind which to keep and which to leave behind ; she took a credit card out of her bag but it was not accepted Mary realised that this young woman could not actually afford to buy the food that she needed and Mary’s arthritis was very bad. Selfishly, she asked the young lady if she could not pay for her food.
No I can’t ,said the lady anxiously
And do you have some children at home Mary asked her ?
Yes the lady said Mary turned to the shop assistant and said “I will pay for this lady’s food and for my loaf. then she turned to the woman and said to her
“You can give this money to the poor at Christmas” thinking to herself that it would not seem so rude to pay the bills and assume that the young woman would do nothing in return Isabelle, as this Polish lady liked to call herself, was amazed by this old English lady with excessively short hair standing on end like the head the toothbrush
What ,you are paying for my food ?
Definitely said Mary thinking to herself that she had just spent 5 pounds in the cafe when she didn’t really need a piece of chocolate cake Suddenly Isabelle came to Mary and asked her her name ;she hugged her closely and whispered I will pray for you as she kissed Mary’s cheek Thank you so much, said Mary. She gave the shopkeeper a note then she took the bread and walked up the road past the shop selling baths and lavatories in amazing beautiful white china;there were lots of school boys standing in groups chatting and laughing I’m glad you’re all having a good time, Mary said to them with a smile I don’t think I’m going to tell Annie about this, she thought to herself ;she might think I’m stupid for paying somebody else’s bill but isn’t it nice to think that we can do these actions purely because we are suffering from arthritis and can’t stand in a queue So it looks like illness does have certain benefits like making us more generous to other people At the bus stop a crowd of wet and damp people were waiting and unfortunately it was quite dark as well I wonder if I will be able to get on the bus, thought Mary. she stood there in her light teal coloured woolen winter coat from Lands End in the sale last year with a pink fleece hat meant to protect her from the rain and at the same time to completely ruin her hairstyle On her face she was wearing a moisturiser which was also a sun screen and on her full lips she wore coral coloured lipstick from Reverend Makeup for ex Christians made with holy water blessed by the Bishop Bath and Wells. in the West of England as it ran down the road Her mascara was said to be waterproof but eating the chocolate cake in the cafe had made her weep with joy so her mascara had run down her face making her look like a zebra in human form
Fortunately, Mary did not know about this and she stood at the bus stop or rather sat at the bus stop on a horrible plastic seat. Imagine how bl she looked…… rather peculiar but then Mary always has looeds peculiar even when she was a young woman with golden hair that ran down her back in ripples like waves breaking on the seashore except that they did not make any sound as they waved in the Breeze and had no deep melancholy roar,as Mattthew Arnold might have written It is quite true that the sea of faith seems to have disappeared but maybe there is a pool of faith somewhere were some goldfish might be Baptised By the parish priest now that the number of people going to church had declined dramatically.Sexual misbehaviour and even rape had destroyed a lot of young people who had trusted the priests and so never were able to enjoy a normal sex life with a chosen partner No doubt many people do not have much love and sexual pleasure and they may be too shy to approach anyone .Why is life so hard? Some people have luck and others have terror and hunger,even torture
The bus drove up the road in the dark with a neon Street light flashing in a horrible manner; she did not like that colour and wondered if anyone might want to change it to something like silvery gold especially at Christmas time When Mary got home she rang her old school friend Margaret. Margaret, I am so selfish I paid a woman’s bill so I wouldn’t have to stand behind her waiting to pay or to come out of the shop without any bread at all That’s a funny way of looking at it said Margaret it was very nice that you suggested that she give the money to charity at Christ.mas because then it’s being passed along from one person to another to the benefit of everybody You are so clever, Margaret. I wonder what Annie will think. I wonder what Emile will think also being a cat he is not very expert at dealing with money or shopping ;he thinks that we should go out and kill something that we found in somebody’s back gardens and then we can eat it raw and so we won’t have any washing up. If ever there was something other than snails and worms in Mary’s back garden maybe she would have taken the cat’s advice
What would I eat Mary thought.. a fox, a hedgehog, a lion, a dog ? I’m afraid I could only eat the leaves off the forsythia and maybe some holly berries since it’s Christmas I don’t think that will be easy to digest. not much protein in that. Maybe I’ll eat Emile and then we’ll see what he thinks! I think I might be getting dementia she thought to herself.
I’d better go to McDonald’s and have a cheeseburger and a large portion of chips followed by a large tub of ice cream I’m sure that’s better than eating things in the garden.
I wonder if Annie would like to come to McDonald’s? it will be a change from the kind of food we normally eat like roast beef and Yorkshire puddings or lamb chops on a bed of onions mushrooms and tomato. Topside with green peas or Lancashire Hotpot yum yum I wonder if they sell steak kidney pudding anywhere in a restaurant? When Mary hung up she was so tired she fell asleep on the sofa and when she woke up it was late; she had some Weetabix protein and went to bed where Emile was already lying trying to warm it up for her and to save her money from using the electric blanket too much Emile is a very thoughtful cat ;perhaps he would like to go to McDonald’s as well in Mary’s handbag.
I shall ask him in the morning she thought and then she dreamt about the bottom of the ocean and all the beautiful fish that swim ; she saw Stan trying to explain social statistics to a mermaid.
What a terrifying sight. So that’s where he is, she cried not in heaven with Jesus .l I think Jesus would understand that some old men still love women even after they have died and any women around might be mermaids who have been living in the sea of faith for 2000 years and will be living there much longer we all hope And so say all of us
I saw you on the pavement with your old brown dog You were shabby,poor,ragged, Sat on your tartan rug. You had water for the dog, You hugged him and you sang, But the people walked on by, And no-one looked at you. No-one looked at you.
But you still sang your song. And you sent me so much love It crossed from eye to eye. I felt it coming in.
I heard that you had died, Though you were only thirty three. Only thirty three.I wonder,where’s your dog?
I felt our souls had touched, You gave to me so much As I wandered in my grief Through the roads and round the streets. In your glance, you touched my heart. I felt love swimming through, From you right into me
.Will you come again? I see all these dim, grey men Who cut your benefits To give more wealth to few; So that the needle’s eye, which is waiting when we die, is forgotten, for they want protection for their wealth.
I wish that beggar man would come back here again. I liked to hear his songs But I can’t recall the tunes; Maybe I’ll write songs myself, That’s the highest sort of wealth Our creativity Is a path to dignity.Come back every one! I wish you had not gone. come back in my dreams and give me some new themes. I’m singing like you sung. it’s this world that’s so wrong. come back beggar man, I knew you were the one.
I know that's how death will come, Suddenly flying into another orbit when I am photographing flowers It's not a gentle transition. No-one will know where I've gone. One step wrong and I'm off the high wire And plunging into the no safety net. Flying for a while Jumping into hyperspace,spinning electrons Startle my wide eyes. Transiting the new black sun I'm on a double gold helix, Spider on her web, Knitting furiously Into the future heaven on gossamer wings. Butterfly goodbye, I'm off to see the stars. And the black holes. No one will come with me. I'm shaking off,evaporating into mist. I'm a flying saucer on a circus mission. I can't say no to a new invitation. Make it fast and break with tradition. Time is passing smoothly till that break In the music, I've been transmuted into a different key someone else will play me on their violin I'm a tune, I'm a thought, I'm a whisper in your vision. Goodbye,darling. I'm under orders Ready to leave for my performance On the electric carpet. Death dancing to a tune on a violoncello, Arpeggionne sonata I'm playing your words upside down In a new foreign translation, Accompanied by solo artists,ice cracking I'm going in. It's too sudden. I'm flying. Spinning faster to amuse the clowns, too many ups and no downs. I'm going right out of orbit I've broken the pull of gravity, And fly with pure equanimity Into my future life, I'm off at some moment An instant,a crack,a loud smack That was me passing
She gave him an impersonal smile. It was cheaper just to have one smile that she gave to everybody rather than having to individualize them. Spontaneity was not known to her at least consciously.
She gave him a dutiful kiss. He said he’d rather have the money next time.
Her eyes were shifty and sharp, like blunted vegetable knives mixed up in the drawer.
My brain is like a plastic colander when someone’s poured boiling water through it.
She looked after the children with dull emotion. That reminded me I need to polish the silver tonight.
Her smile had little energy. The message was plain.
Her eyes could speak but they had a very small vocabulary.
The doctor took total responsibility like a zoo keeper would for a small sick monkey.
The nurse didn’t know what a hospital corner was. Maybe they don’t have any in that hospital?
His handwriting was perfect in form yet had no originality. That is a very difficult thing to achieve for a human being.
Her eyes were smiling but she bit her lips tastelessly. I asked her if she would like some HP sauce but she said it was not feminine enough.
I was full of chagrin when I saw the doctor photograph me naked. I said couldn’t you couldn’t you at least give me a hospital gown? Mysteriously they are all in the corridor he told me politely with no expression whatsoever in his voice except contempt.
She asked me why I had three colanders in the kitchen.So I asked her, should I keep them in the bedroom? They are no good as chamber pots. She said I just wondered why you had three. So I told her to think animal vegetable and mineral
Mary was in her bedroom which once had been a study.There were books every where all randomly arranged
Shall I toss away “Functional Analysis “by Riesz-Nagy?I can’t remember it but it’s a classic text.She looked at her other books and found three rhyming dictionaries…. and Strunk’s guide to style.
Is American style the same as English ? she asked herself.I’d better read that.
When she opened her desk drawers hoping to find a ring she had lost she was thunderstruck by how dirty the white bases were.She sat there on her folding chair musing on this and wondering about Purity and Danger by Mary Douglas.
A whole jar of nail scissors and pens stood ,previously unnoticed, by the window.So that’s where they went,Mary thought.Things seem to appear and disappear disconcertingly at random.Perhaps she had never achieved what is called object constancy by Freudians which must not be confused with objecting to constancy.That is something quite different. that some men like to do
Mary had some clear polythene bags by her and Emile watched as he hid inside the open wardrobe under Mary’s dresses and cardigans.She found some shoes under her desk so put then into a green bag; the socks she collected in a white one and the pens and art stuff went into a box.
What chaos there was in the room with face cream and books on the bed and boxes of tissues and cotton wool balls strewn about.
Emile came out of the wardrobe stretching and yawning as only tom cats can
Shall I ring 999 , you look tired, he said mellifluously.
Oh,how kind, she responded politely in her delightful way
Soon Dave the transvestite paramedic appeared wearing a maxidress from Marks and Spencers’
Does that need ironing,~Mary asked him
No, it drip dries really well, he answered gracefully
I wonder if I should buy one,she muttered cautiously
If you go to your GP you might find you can get one on prescription
Do you think so? I’ve never heard of that before,she responded
Well, you could say it will cure your depression and grief from losing your dear old man
He will say that no double blind experiments have been done to prove dresses help women to feel better. when bereaved she told Dave cautiously
How about a double bind operation,Dave asked scientifically
What do you mean? Mary said philosophically
We tie ourselves together with string and then kiss and hug and see how it goes… one never knows when old
Well I don’t see why we need string.Someone might think we are a parcel and post us to China or even North Korea.
How about Israel?
Why do you think we’d end up there?
They have some great museums.And we could Wail at the Wall.
I could do with a good Wail,Mary replied as tears ran down her pink and cream cheeks.But I am unsure if one wails there out of grief or is it something more? Like sorrow about the Temple being destroyed.Why do they not get over it?
Well it’s rather like England and the Tudors… all those films and books as if Henry 8 th deserved such fame for ever
I’d prefer the Temple to him, said Mary fastidiously.That was a place of worship and beauty
I’d love to see the Temple.If only we could go back in time,Dave informed her.But the main point is Mary I love you so I must leave your bedroom before I die of repressed desire and lack of your tender touch
I am sorry Dave,I never knew you felt that way about me,Mary told him .Perhaps we should go to the kitchen and make some nice hot tea.And I just bought some biscuits from Marks and Spencers which are much better than any others I’ve had
So they sat at the pine table drinking Ceylon tea and eating custard creams as they watched the sun through the Acer next door.Why the neighbours had a laptop hanging from a tree nobody knew.Was it to make themselves seem superior?Was it going to be connected to the electricity so it would be like a Xmas decoration?Time will tell.Or it may fall off and kill some slugs and snails… isn’t life interesting
“With regard to the sharpest and most melting sorrow, that which arises from the loss of those whom we have loved with tenderness, it may be observed, that friendship between mortals can be contracted on no other terms than that one must some time mourn for the other’s death: and this grief will always yield to the survivor one consolation proportionate to his affliction; for the pain, whatever it be, that he himself feels, his friend has escaped.”
– Dr Samuel Johnson
Words float like water in a stream,
Reflected gently by sunbeams.
This stream flows swiftly to my heart
And through these words your love is caught.
The space inside my heart is clear,
Your love will find its right home here.
Your words are treasures in my night,
And in the dark, they glow with light.
Oh,let me read your notes of bliss,
And seal them with a loving kiss.
I hope this stream will always go
Where living waters softly flow.
For love is kind, and love is true.
Connections form from me to you.
And love creates an open heart,
From which all other feelings start.
Yet love is free, and does not bind.
Love is glad,and not unkind.
So if my love displeases you,
Then you can find a lover new.
I have life inside my heart
Which will sustain me if we part.
I wish you much great happiness…
And know my grief will one day pass.
But for today,let’s laugh and play.
Let’s make love inside the hay.
It’s summer and we like the heat.
Let’s celebrate with kisses sweet.
Three cats. I used Microsoft paint to create this image
WecEnglish have to be careful in discussion with people who speak English but live in other countries like New Zealand.South Africa and of course, Canada, home of Leonard Cohen However much we learn, if we don’t live in England we probably do not understand the idioms and I expect in politics and business it could cause great problems If Boris Johnson says he is going to spill the beans tonight, will anyone from other countries like France know what he means.Because I assume they speak English at NATO events Stone the crows. here is Boris striking while the iron is hot and spilling the beans and his seeds all over the area. Oh, my sainted aunt,I can’t escape agoraphobia, Seen a shrink? There’s sink in the toilet But will it flush away? Now be serious.I mean the room What ,where the Inn keeper would not let Mary and Joseph stay? They had no bathrooms then Mine is the cat’s pyjamas Should it be “are”? Grammar is obsolete. It sounds extremely rude.I must be mixing my words You sound like an artist Well,paint while the iron is hot! But you don’t paint with an iron,do you? No, but I can scorch the paper I’d love to scorch the Mail on Sunday Don’t waste your time I didn’t know I had any. Well, keep still.Don’t move Why, is Trump passing? Passing wind maybe Is he a sheep in wolf’s clothing? He’d be a ram, he would believe in God The wolf is only artificial Is it imaginary like a complex number Not that kind of imaginary Do tell Who? The cat’s out of the bag Emile! Yes, mother? Hide! But where? Under a hat I got the hat trick once.I took it off Now keep mum and watch what I do. I want dad Me too Don’t ask for the moon So is he there? Be quiet Michael Gove wants to squeak Where is Rees’ Mogg? Mating with yours This is the absolute end Well, nearly Not angles and not angels. You are around the end
How my heart sings 