Day: Apr 17, 2026

Oh to be out of my mind

As he crossed the room a cynical smile played upon his lips. When she looked up her heart jumped into her mouth.

I hope I don’t lose my mind she sought anxiously. Can you fasten your mind on so it can’t drop off?

I’ve never liked cynical people she thought moodily. If my heart doesn’t go back into place I will choke. And if I lose my mind who will find it?

I felt my body turn inside out with fear when I was in bed last night. Why can’t we lose our fear the sumo

She didn’t know what was happening to him as they lay tensely in bed

He was beside himself with anxiety as she looked as if she had swallowed a gobstopper. One of the cobbles from the road outside their first house would have done the job better that is it would have killed her instantly.

But could you get a cobble into your mouth? I don’t think so.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when her husband slammed the door. Her mind was absent at the time.

I wonder where absent minds go to?

I was out of mine completely.

I could see it calculating pi to 100 decimal places but why that was important I simply cannot tell you. It would be one of the seven labours of Hercules because however long you spent calculating more and more decimal places for pi you would never get to the end. So why even start? Well the concept just blew my mind

I found it easier to concentrate or mathematics and to maintain my focus and it stopped  my within thinking about multiple sin mortal sin and convenient sin and invaluable sin. I’m trying to say venial. What about ingenious sin? Moral sin is only one t away from mortal sin.

Do you know there are some thoughts that are like gnats on the surfaces of a lake.. such thoughts are useless but thoughts from the deeper level are no longer egocentric. It’s important to try to get away from the superficial thoughts which are usually very selfish or just simply boring

But once you’re standing back and looking at them that will give you a new perspective.

You might be able to see it from somebody else’s point of view.

There’s no time like the present

Be present it’s your birthday

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?

I shall live again

My heart is crushed like petals on the road
When spring winds blow and cars speed by like shot
The weight of caring is too hard to hold
Yet such a pastime seems to be my lot.

When buds appear I dread the frost of sin
When leaves uncurl ,I bear my breathless dream
I was not always of this mind so grim
Neither did I ponder complex schemes.

Shall I descend to ploys and plots of doom;
Wreak revenge on those who trouble me?
No,I ‘ll not give home to conquering gloom
I’ll sit it out and find what good’s for me.

My heart is crushed but I shall live again
Far from the habitat of wolf-like man.

Like ducks that dive into the watery depths

The sun is far away and we feel low~
Like ducks that dive into the watery depths
Freezing rain has not the feel of snow

No more do living waters seem to flow
And when we kiss there’s frost upon our lips
If sun is far away , what’s our bed for?

Despair can get us in its undertow
And from our happy time we’re may be ripped
Freezing rain has not the charm of snow

Best to feed wild birds and live snail- slow
Sorrow is the parent of joy’s scripts
The sun is far away , oh deep, oh low~

But yet beneath the soil new life will grow
As the parents quarrel souls still wait
Freezing rain has not the charm of snow

Unthought babies wait for signals glow
Swiftly to the womb the souls migrate
The sun is far away and we are low

Like a tide with hidden under rips
The sea of life will take us where love’s trapped
The sun is far away ,but why feel low~?
Freezing rain will cease and life will flow

The liturgy of the birds

The force and beauty of the wild North Sea

The coast of Norfolk where we loved to be

The grief that rips the heart out from its cave

Throws it on the sea to ride the waves

The loss of you and love and all it means

With my inner eye I see these  scenes

The snow that fell on Cromer Easter Day

The lifeboat on the pier, the words to say

Ancient churches guard the holy space

And everything is right and in its place.

Eagles do not live here, but the birds

  Sing  from yellow gorse and know the words

What names might small birds  call us as they  watch?

The world is re created in a snatch.

The word gorse rhymes with norse

In 865 Ivan the Boneless a Viking  invaded East Anglia His army wintered in Thetford forest before heading North where they eventually conquered York

The birds singing in the yellow gorse is a reality but it’s also reminder of the history which the birds may remember more than the humans.

Also because the birds are singing for joy and they know the words it is akin to a liturgical offering

It’s not only humans who can praise. The way that the world is at the moment it may be hard for us to do that