By Katherine
Month: Jan 2026
Survey of over-50s women finds almost two in three struggle with mental health
Stan in denim
Stan woke up later than usual owing to the comfort of sleeping in his dear wife’s soft cotton nightgown.He had slept better than usual despite the police calling to question him about a nude woman found wandering in the town centre.
Women have better clothes than men,Emile, he remarked to the cat which was stretched out on the Guardian.I don’t know why I buy that paper.You couls sleep on a bath towel.
After having a shower,Stan decided to take another look at Mary’s clothes.He found a long denim skirt in indigo which he fancied would match his new T shirt.
Of course I shall only wear while I do the housework he told Emile.After all in Scotland I could wear a kilt.Can you get a denim kilt he wondered.He decided to wear underpants but not to wear Mary’ssilk petticoat.She might get angry with him.
There is a certain logic in wearing a denim skirt as it much cooler than trousers and allows easy movement.But of course one must wear decent underpants in case the wind blows under it and reveals all.That’s why women are always buying packs of pants.So Stan was thinking. and he remembered his old espadrilles which would look good.He stood in front of the mirror and imagined he looked quite fetching.
The doorbell rang and on the step was the Vicar of Knittingham South.
Hello,madam, he said.
I’m a man,Stan muttered mournfully.
Yes,dear,of course you are.May I speak to your husband?
I am the husband,Stan screeched.
Oh,I see.You are gay then, I assume.
Stan pointed to his beard and said,I am a man. Didn’t you hear me?
Please forgive me, the Vicar said.Some old ladies get quite hairy and with the skirt I thought it was rude to mention your beard.How do you find the skirt,by the way?
Well, it’s quite nice having air on the legs and it’s definitely cooler than shorts.
But a cotton dress would be even better.Are you married?
Yes,said the Vicar but my wife is very intolerant of anything unusual.She’d be furious if I wore her clothes.
My wife doesn’t know,Stan told him.I bet she’d be angry too because she’d have to iron it again.
Why don’t you wash and iron it before she comes home, the Vicar demanded.
Well, just between the two of us I am afraid of irons,telephones,and making a mistake in a recipe.Also eye tests and blue litmus paper and crisps
I’m afraid of dentists,fogs ,dogs and sausages the Vicar admitted.And doctors and fierce women.
The two men stood pondering.
Come inside, said Stan after a few minutes.Let’s have a coffee.
They sat on the patio drinking their coffee and saw a wren fly past into the weigelia.That’s the first I’ve seen recently.said Stan.
Emile was asleep in a woven wastepaper basket in the kitchen.
Anyway,why did you call,Stan asked the Vicar.We never got to that.
I can’t remember, the dear old man admitted.I’ll have to come back tonight.
Oh,dear Stan said
I think I’d better put some trousers on, he whispered
Yes,you had said Emile.I can see the Bishop outside.
And how play all of us?
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After 30 minutes have past I get panes in my gut
aa
Photo by Anni Roenkae on Pexels.com
While I sniff at my lily of the valley soap from Yardley, I am thinking of the spelling mistakes I am reading
M & S tell me
After 30 minutes have past you cannot change your order
Surely it is passed? Minutes pass.. pass is a verb.
Top Newspapers
Yesterday a journalist wrote about putting someone in a straightjacket
I think it should be straitjacket and probably is derived from Strait
If someone has a good degree, you’d expect them to know but
I find myself making spelling mistakes when typing but not when using a pen
A strait is a naturally formed, narrow, typically navigable waterway that connects two larger bodies of water. Most commonly it is a channel of water that lies between two land masses.
Strait - Wikipedia
Some I made up
She suffers stomach panes
Can you see inside her?
He had a paned expression
Flat and made of glass?
I find love is full of panes
Draw the curtains!
She past out when she took too much GNT
Where is your husband?
Oh, he has past
Past history?
No,I mean he’s dead,passed on, passed over, passed by
I never knew your son had past history
He passed geography as well
But he’s been in jail
Not because he passed geography?
No, because he stole a hearse
Difficult to get away with that
He hid in the coffin
Lucky he was not cremated!
I like strait skirts on slim ladies
Is it bondage?
You must stand up strait.
That is hard when chained,
We sailed straight through Dover
You mean the Straits of Dover,I guess.
I past all my exams
Except English, they saw you hiding
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Stan and Mary go out looking through other people’s windows
After dinner Mary and Stan often went for a longish walk.They liked to go to a road where the richer people of Britain lived.,where there were some Georgian houses and one Tudor house.At dusk they would stroll by looking into the lighted windows to see how the rooms were decorated.And if the front garden was large sometimes they crept in to see moreOne beautiful house they liked from the outside was spoiled for Mary by the garish tartan wall paper.
What sort of people would live there, she asked Emile who was in her handbag.with his head peeping out
Well,they have a cat called Percy,he mewed softly.
Why Percy?It is a noble name fro
Earls of Percy were involved in affairs of state.
Well.Percy is a Chinese cat,Emile said to her wittily.
He ought to be called Hu Ar U then,Mary joked ,or tried to as her sense of humour was somewhat lacking or maybe just odd.Still she looked lovely despite her moth eaten clothes bought in Sales in colors nobody else wanted like purple and lilac and bottle green.
She and Stan crept slowly up the garden path and peered nervously into the empty sitting room trying to identify the paintings on the walls.All of a sudden, a woman who was completely naked came into the room and lay modishly on a sofa as if she were a trained dancer.She was a sight for sore male eyes.Are they about to have a drawing class,Stan whispered.She must be a model for a Life Class or an abstract woman ,with cat ,if Percy gets into the frame,Mary musedPercy might scratch her then.Stan muttered.She could scream.Suddenly a loud voice was booming at them.
What the bloody hell are you doing in my garden?
There stood a big man in plus fours and and an oversized red jumper with matching cheeks
We were admiring your wall paper,Mary said.I think it is very unusual.He smiled in gratification.I
chose it,he cried.All by my self.
But why is there a nude lady on the sofa,Stan enquired.
I am so annoyed, the man told them.My fiancee likes to walk around nude but she forgets to draw the curtains first.
Does she want to make an exhibition of herself,Stan enquired hopefully.
We wondered if it was for a life class, you know,students learning to draw and become artists of note.
Well,that’s a good idea said Arthur thoughtfully.
The woman got up and came over.She opened the wondow.To their astonishment she was Annie,their neighbour and Stan’s mistress too.Stan might have known but he had kept his face immobile after years of practise
.Fancy seeing you here,Annie whispered creatively in her sweet little voiceI am trying to seduce Arthur but with no success so far except a marriage proposal.
You need to be more discreet and indirect, said Stan.If you act like this he will think you are an artist’s model and likely to be featured in the Tate Modern Annual Show of Infamy .Now, would a man like this marry or even sleep with such a woman as you appear to be walking around like Eve before she ate the apple?
I don’t know said Annie but my clothes are all in the tumble dryer,anyhow.
Did you wet yourself? Mary asked her kindly.It’s nothing to be ashamed of.We all do it now and then especially since public conveniences were shut down across the UK.And now ,even winter coats are machine washable.
Well,I knocked over some lemon barley water in a big jug and so I decided to wash all my clothes. while I was here as Arthur has a tumble dryer
That’s a very strange tale Arthur told her.You look ravishing hanging out of the window with your nipples pointing up.Let me take a photo ofyou.Say,Cheese
But will you put it on Twitter,Annie asked anxiously.
No,dear.I am not so cruel.Why don’t you get your clothes and make us all some tea
.I can’t make tea,she yelled and without pausing she dialledd 999.
What is it Fire or Ambulance the lady receptionist asked politely.It’s a kettle.Is it on fire?No,it won’t boil.Can you send Dave the paramedic ,please, as he makes good tea.
We are quite busy so it may be two hours or more she was told
.I thought this was an emergency service,Annie said.
But who defines what an emergency is? the lady asked her philosophically.I
will die without this tea,Annie informed her in a ringing tone
Ok ,hang up and I will send the ambulance now.Arthur seemed a little surprised
I have private medical insurance,he cried.But they don’t make tea not even for old people.
Well,in the UK tea has always been essential to the National HealthBut it will soon be drying up and we shall get flasks from the dustmen on Sundays instead.I just don’t believe it,Arthur said and he then passed out on the rug which stood in front of a bookcase full of leather bound volumes of poetry.Will he live?Read more tomorrow and pay the price… a few minutes of fun and gaiety.
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To make lies sound truthful
As Orwell reminded us: “political language … is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind
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On Being Ill at 100: Virginia Woolf’s ‘best essay’ still shapes how we read sickness
Tiny joys
I’ve always liked the plants that grow in cracks
The weeds between the cobbles in our street
The wallflowers in the cliffs, the weedy tracks
We walked upon warm cobbles with bare feet.
The flowers and weeds grow faster in the heat.
The shrubs burst into growth they feel no lack
Neither do the insects beat retreat
The sun is rising and defeats the black.
To see a weed in winter is a treat
Little children take delight in that
And those who grew up in a mill town street.
The little blades of green will feed the cat.
Do not take for granted tiny joys
These are the humble words that God employs
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Alex Pretti
Alex Pretti
May your death be the last one caused by ICE thugs in the USA
You had so much to give to the world and now we are deprived of that
And you are deprived of everything
No man is an island
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Illness is designed to slow us down
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All day breakfast
I have got more and more incontinent.
Do stop admiring Europe
Why do the government tell us to eat more fruit and veg?
To help evacuate he Common Market from our bodies
Why do the government not have enough beds in hospitals?
They can’t all go to sleep at once!
Why do we have corridor care in our hospitals?
We have to have care everywhere soon it will be in the toilets and they will say: well you’ve got an ensuite bathroom
Is Britain the best country in the world?
It’s the best one for an all-day breakfast. That embodies the bad logic we English enjoy so much all day breakfast is a contradiction in terms
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Doing evil things is bad for you. Is that a surprise?
I don’t think anyone would disagree with this except the people that I’m thinking of
Doing wicked things harms you and the person you injure but also it creates consternation and suffering in a broader circle
Many of us try very hard to lead a good life and it’s difficult to understand the criminal minds of people in power
Killing a young man like Alex Pretti
It’s unspeakable and I’m so sorry for people in the USA living under the present government
I know they voted for Donald Trump but I don’t suppose they imagined it will be like this.
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Is being virtuous good for you – or just people around you? A study suggests traits like compassion may support your own well-being
Is being virtuous good for you – or just people around you? A study suggests traits like compassion may support your own well-being https://share.google/K0K3XnhEjz3WxJE5Q
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Evensong
It seems ridiculous to post this today after reading the news about Minneapolis but I refuse to totally give in
Even song evokes another state.
A world of beauty, peace and mental calm.
Where all is still and thoughts do not gyrate
The breath slows down and evil does not mate
Indeed it flees before the holy psalms
Evensong evokes another state.
In the quiet, we each can, happy, wait
Assured by songs of good, of healing balm
Where all is still and thoughts do not gyrate. Soothing rhythms will help the mind create;
To bear the emptiness unfilled and do no harm. Evensong evokes this cultured state
Frantic notes of music irritate.
And minimise all goodness and all warmth
Let all be still and let thought emigrate.
Let us lowly creatures slowly learn
To love each other as we take our turn
Evensong evokes another state
There all is calm and thoughts are sweet as fate
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In the English channel
Snow clouds hang like canopies forlorn,
Tinged with grey from lack of proper care,
While from the Channel sing the dread foghorns Sailors in the night long for new dawn.
Fear boats of refugees may still sail there.
Snow clouds hang like canopies well to
A dinghy holds the Saviour lately born
There is no space on earth safe from great fear
F rom the Channel sigh the families drowned
From maternal’ space, Jesu is torn
His father holds his arms around those dear .
Snow clouds hang, are lacy wings no more The hearts of British ” natives” have turned sour Into Jesu’s side we thrust our spears
Tune the channel.Requiems need scores
All lives now, and all of time is here Do not mistake the song of silent choirs.
Snow clouds hang like canopies forlorn,
While in the Channel, reckless are the horns
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Modern Life
People don’t eat at a table now.
We eat on our laps, we have a spoon/fork
The food has got to be easy to eat because we’re all holding our phones in one hand so we can carry on with a little conversations we were having before the rest of the family came into the house.
Ultimately we won’t need bodies much although it’s hard to imagine sexual intercourse without a bod.
I’m sure that somebody’s going to find a way of doing it on your own!
I’m not sure that means on your own body or in your own mind.
It’s a pity the Catholic church isn’t around now to ban masturbation.
But one could see the point of it today.
But you can’t have love on a screen.
I do hope that you are already out of nappies.
The body does have its limitations along with its joys
What is the mind anyway?
Just a lot of sentences I suppose.
That’s all for now Goodbye, dearest
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Now the Devil’s asking for his pay
.
There are no hours and minutes in a day
Whatever Nokia Lumias might display
Babylonian clocktowers hover;
Cracked a wall , now built in Dover,
There are sixty cuckoos to gainsay.
Day and night, or hey, what black and white
People range in hues of fruits delight
I like olive and Greenpeacers
Wearing hats from crowns off steeples
Day and night,oh shall we take a flight?
I see the Berlin Wall is coming back
Mexico has ordered ten sick plaques
Trump has promised work forever:
Dangerous walls from Hell to Dover
Even God has been electro-shocked
No ,these demons cannot get across
They’re stuck in an inferno; what is worse……….
God now can’t be omnipresent.
He has high walls around Grace Crescent.
Holy Moses,who can take this flak?
If you miss yer dinner,don’t it hurt?
Same as if yer finger gets a cut
Refugees with their feet bleeding–
Christ,we’re underwhelmed in feelings
Get a barbed wire fence, and kick them back.
The Lord’s THEIR shepherd, so we’re gonna pay.
He watches US like NEVER from today
We’re ex-colonial criminals
We’re Self-esteem Unlimited.
Now the Devil’s comin’ out as grey.
Oh,someone jumped the Central Line today
Could not take this life so full of play
Oxford Street was blocked by walls
Of vehicles sent to the Call.
What is my vocation,what my Play
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Josephine Klein
Academic and psychotherapist. Refugee from Holland when it was invaded by the Nazis.
As a child she had been a refugee, and in 1999 she founded the Refugee Therapy Centre in London, with Aida Alayarian and others. There they established a course to enable refugees to become counsellors, in line with Josephine’s conception that therapists and counsellors should share language, culture and experience with their patients and help them better to contribute to society.
Born in Düsseldorf, Germany, Josephine was the daughter of Simon Klein, a salesman, and his Dutch wife Marie (nee Norden). The family were of Jewish origin but largely secular. They were living in Amsterdam at the time of the Nazi invasion in May 1940, and fled shortly afterwards, in an open boat. After six days at sea with little fresh water, they were picked up by the Royal Navy destroyer HMS Malcolm, and Josephine never forgot the warmth of the captain and crew. Many of her relatives who did not flee, did not survive.https://f87183ff05e2a4bafd6963d396c3a84f.safeframe.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-40/html/container.html?n=0
The family moved to Chester in the hope of travelling to the US by ship from Liverpool, but were unable to do so. Josephine did well at the Queen’s school, Chester, which, together with some local people, provided the support necessary for her to go to university. In four years, she gained two degrees, simultaneously, a BA in French at University College London and a first in sociology at LSE.
After her period in youth work, Josephine was a lecturer in social studies at Birmingham University (1949-62), then had three years as a research fellow at Nuffield College, Oxford, and went on to Sussex University, as reader in social relations (1965-70). For the next four years she was director of the course at Goldsmiths’, and then undertook 30 years’ private practice as a psychotherapist. Even after that she continued to supervise trainee psychotherapists.
Friends and colleagues valued her wisdom and warmth on walks and at concerts, sharing highs and lows in other people’s lives and helping them overcome adversity.
She is survived by two nieces and a nephew.
• Josephine Faniella Henny Klein, psychologist and psychotherapist, born 17 October 1926; died 13 November 2018
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Why are odd numbers?
I have made an odd number of mistakes . How can you get even? What’s odd about a mistake?
It’s the error
I dream while I’m awake
Better take a sleeping pill after breakfast then The ghost always comes at midnight Even when the clocks change?
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The important moments
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Onto refugees
Climbing up the hill with a great Cross
The tortured God recalls his childhood days
Now he faces death and total loss
Did Jesus fear his mission and its cost
Would humans ever learn to see his way
Climbing up the hill with a great Cross
Crucified, beheaded, killed by us
John the Baptist,Jesus,Jews have paid
Did Jesus fear his Mission and its cost
How we love the baby, yet we’re lost
Was it ever true that we are saved?
Climbing up the hills with our own cross
Where is God’s great spirit, Holy Ghost
Alienated from the human race?
Did Jesus fear his Mission and its cost
Shall we ever see that Holy Face
Onto refugees it has been placed
Climbing up the hill like Sisyphus
He repeats his actions, feels his loss
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‘There is a sense of things careening towards a head’: TS Eliot prize winner Karen Solie
Pater noster
Our Father,Aneurin Bevan,
Exploded is thy game; Why,Kingdom come, Before thy will be done.
No N.H.S.No Heaven. M
Give us fair pay,our daily bread;
Don’t leave us with PTSD
As we confront those who legislate against us.
And feed us not with deprivation, But deliver us from Weasels.
For thine was the Fair Game,the Hour and the Story
Maybe once but will it be ever again? …
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Accepting even negative emotions makes us more resilient but what exactly is acceptance?
Catholic cardinals warn US foreign policy under Trump risks global suffering
The Surprising Link Between UTIs and Mental Health
Gwyneth Lewis | The Poetry Foundation
Caught between two cultures
Oh,Prime minister
Oh Starmer, this is not heaven
Please beat trump at his game
This Kingdom is dumb
Should your will be done
Some curse, but earth is not heaven
Give us each day our daily bread
Forgive us our trespasses so we will forgive yours against us
For you have no power or glory
You have a hard job and it will seem to last forever
How my heart speaks 