Mary goes to the clinic and meets David Cameron

Mary was sitting down feeling quite lonely in the waiting room outside the doctor’s office when she saw Emile hiding under a chair..
What are you doing,she whispered.I’m glad of your company though.
I jumped into your cab, the cheeky cat informed her proudly
I want to be there when he examines you in case he makes vulgar remarks
Don’t worry,she answered,they always have a chaperone nowadays.
Just then a pretty young black nurse took Mary into a room and said to her
Take off your underpants!
I don’t wear underpants,said Mary,but I can go home and get my husband’s if you want me to.
We use underpants as a generic term,the nurse informed her in a kindly yet menacing voice.
Wow,they are so intelligent nowadays,I don’t think I knew what generic meant till recently Mary told herself stupidly
I have no underpants,Emile meowed. crossly
No and I am not making you any.I have quite enough washing to do already.Mary responded like a mother.
It’s not fair, said Emile.All my friends have underpants and T shirts too.
Soon the doctor came in and looked nervously at Mary and then at her female parts.
Mary was used to this but all of a sudden she got a nasty pain
Ow,ow,ow,she shrieked,what is that?
It’s ok,said the nurse,just older ladies are not used to this sort of thing.
I’ll have you know many older ladies are very used to it but not when they are unaroused.Besides men’s organs are kinder than metal or plastic if the lady is willing.Can’t you put more lubricant on the damned thing
The doctor tried to remove the speculum but was clearly somewhat agitated.
Ouch,cried Mary.Ouch.
Thank goodness I didn’t know it would hurt.Do you think we should be shown a romantic mildly arousing film in the waiting room to make it easier?
We can’t do that,said the nurse.We might be accused of running a brothel.Still ,we could use more money in here.
But the doctor is not paying me,said Mary.I am paying him, in a sense,as a taxpayer.And you too,dear.
You are too clever for me,said the nurse sharply as she admired Mary’s tan leather handbag from TKMaxx stuffed with set squares and cameras
I shall bring a vibrator next time,Mary told her,though she had never even seen a vibrator except in a picture.Still.she had to say something.And why should she not benefit from modern science?Boots sell them,she seemed to recall…
You can’t bring a vibrator in here or the doctor will be angry ,as he might be accused of misconduct if you enjoyed yourself, the nurse whispered, though why should you not enjoy it,she said in a puzzled tone ;as if she had never thought like this before.
I thought it was only misconduct if the doctor enjoyed himself,Mary cried loudly.
He has seen so many ladies, it is just like seeing into a mouth for him,said the nurse churlishly thus taking away Mary’s pride in her unique anatomy.
I expect one gets used to anything in time,Mary murmured,but I hope he will not need to do that again to me.
No, you seem ok,the doctor said,but I seem to imagine I can see a cat under the table.What is he doing?
I am just keeping an eye on you,mewed Emile.I live with Mary.
No animals are allowed in here ,the doctor shouted in a paranoid manner.
A bit late now,meowed the cat.Are you sending for the cat police?
Dr.Grey picked up a very large speculum and threatened to strike Emile with it
Now then,said the nurse, he might scratch my legs.Leave him alone.He’s just protecting her.And I had just sterilised that.
Fat lot of good Emile was,Mary thought to herself.
The doctor approached Mary and told her she would be seeing a consultant soon… in the meantime should she do anything to prepare… she asked.
Well, do try to relax if you can, he told her gently.It is trying for ladies of riper years to attend hospitals but we only want to help you.
I’ll have to help myself,Mary thought wryly, laughing inside, as she got down off the table and put on her red and purple knickers or “underpants” as they are now referred to by health professionals
.Thank God,that is over,she whispered to Emile.Let’s run out and get a cab.
She hobbled to the door and phoned the taxi firm with her mobile.I just want to get home she told the driver.
Don’t we all, he said in an Eton accent.Surely it’s not David Cameron in disguise canvassing patients?Thank God he’s not conducting pelvic exams on them!That would lose him the election whether he was any good or not… in my view,but then what do I know about the British electorate?It might be the key to our future as a nation.Think about it!No,stop!

The avenue of life was made too straight
Vienna with its harshly cut off trees
No one ever had to navigate.

We saw the gravestone in the day or night
But we did not see what life we might have seized
The avenue of life was made too straight

Life is more like sailing or birds flight
Where we move according to the breeze
We deeply wish to feel and navigate.

Life is more like dance than soldiers fight
All the soldiers surreal. a clean machine
The path to God  could never be so  right

Oh,  diurnal owl,  his wants  are slant
From  Tyne to Tees we sleep his cruel dreams
He’s known by his will to navigate.

Yet God created hawk and owl and scene
No straight line will  any bird  demean
The avenue of life is not so straight
We in danger learn to navigate.

 

The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke
The way the back leant curving into space
The dance and danger both are thus evoked

Like a play, a drama, fire and smoke
A dance performed so swiftly and with grace
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The heavy bull is pounding,is provoked.
A threat, a man,  intrudes into his space
The dance and danger both are still evoked

See, the  matador throws out his cloak
A   dash of black, and here we see his face
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The mind needs just a hint to  see the whole
We fill the present with our past distaste
The dance and danger, mirroring dark smoke

 Acting both dramatic and displaced 

The artist may still love what she forsakes 

The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke 

he dance and danger ,life and death evoked

 

https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/evil-deeds/201201/essential-secrets-psychotherapy-the-healing-power-clinical-wisdom-part-one

 

What we don’t know can hurt us. The “unconscious,” as Sigmund Freud professed, is the “unknown” or “not known.” That portion of subjective experience which is obscured, invisible to consciousness, at least “at the moment.” It consists largely of the parts of ourselves we deny, dissociate, despise, denigrate, dread and generally repress. What we repress comes back to haunt us with a vengeance. Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche spoke of this phenomenon as “the return of the repressed.” Denial or dissociation are repressive defense mechanisms, and serve some necessary function in terms of preserving mental health. But when some significant aspect of ourselves is chronically denied or dissociated (i.e., repressed and made unconscious), the proverbial chickens eventually come home to roost. If, for instance, someone always denies their anger, these feelings will some day resurface tenfold, especially under stress, though the reason for and intensity of their rage may be unclear  and inappropriate to the current circumstances. This dark and treacherous territory to which these repressed “chickens”–or, more descriptively, “demons” are banished–is what Jung referred to as the “shadow.” It is related also to what Rollo May called the “daimonic.” The daimonic, according to May, “is any natural function which has the power to take over the whole person. Sex and eros, anger and rage, and the craving for power are examples.” Thedaimonic, can, by definition, be both destructive and creative. When the daimonic is habitually denied, it becomes more negative and dangerous. But when we acknowledge its presence and reality, it can be the life-giving source of energy, strength, power, spirituality and creativity. This can be said of the unconscious in general. So it is vitally important to learn to listen to one’s unconscious carefully, and to what it has to say about what’s happening in the psyche now and what needs to happen if the future, both inwardly and outwardly. Meditation,mindfulness and dream work are all methods of listening to and discerning the unconscious.The secret is to take the unconscious (and its complexes) seriously, treating it with the respect and sense of mystery, awe and wonder it deserves. And to recognize the ultimate futility of repression, rather allowing one’s self to consciously experience emotions as they arise, while at the same time learning to pause between stimulus and response rather than reflexively acting on them. We have both the freedom and responsibility to choose how we respond to our feelings. But that, like any other skill, takes practice.

Rain falls lightly in the winter wood,
Dampening stones that make a pathway through
The overgrown, the old trees and the new.
The odour of the rain on grass is good

I see the acers coming into bud.
The daffodils are waving as I view.
The lily pond is lonely without you.
We used to feed a robin when we could

 

After Mass on Sunday mornings then
We’d drive to woods  and walk to lessen strain.
But now I cannot write, I clutch your pen.
My inspiration gives me life again.

 

Without your hand in mine, I walk quite lame.
The dampness on my face is tears, not rain

 

 

 

I get out my sewing gear
In the quiet times of life,
When I need to mend the tears,
Torn by stress and strife.

I hold my soul so carefully
And gaze at every part.
I hope that light will come to me
As I wonder how to start,

.I take my needle out
With love thread through its heart,
I scrutinize each inch.
And then I start to stitch.

In the quietness of the night
You heal me all the time
You talk to me in dreams
And I write them down in rhymes.

Another day will come
And more fractures form.
That’s all part of life
Strife ,and mend, and strife.

Keep that cocoon whole,
Till the soul’s completely there.
Then through its love-sewn folds
A butterfly will flare.

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 perfection 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, like ants,
Rush towards the motorway.
They make us laugh.
How green the meadows
How fresh the old trees.

I gaze at you.
I find I am.
It’s mutual.
They call it Love

About 9 months before my husband died he had operation on his nose for cancer; something called a rodent ulcer. Since he had had cancer before we were not too worried about this. After a few months he got an appointment to have this removed.

What we didn’t know was that they would do the operation in two stages. In the first size they would remove the cancer which apparently went quite deep. Then they would send him home. The next day he will be sent for an operation to fill the gap so that the wound could heal my

Is this happen to anyone you know if it’s very dangerous. Sending someone home with a hoe in their face with just a little dressing over it it is potentially dangerous. I think it’s done so that they won’t have to use a hospital bed overnight.

The next morning I heard him shouting. I went into the bathroom and it was full of blood like a butcher’s shop or fsr worse than

a butcher’s shop. Apparently he blew his nose but he had not been told that he should not do that although it seems like common sense but he was 88 years old at the time and he didn’t have dementia so they should have warnef him in writing.

I didn’t want to send for an ambulance because the hospital where he was going to have the operation did not have an a and e so he was sent to another hospital he would miss operation. So I rang a friend and ask him to come in a cab and then come in the house and get my husband the suffering from shock had no breakfast. So I kept my own when my husband covered in blood stains and looking terrified.

It had a very bad effect on my husband it’s terrifying to lose so much blood.

I had to have an operation on my face as a few weeks later and this worried him very much. He didn’t recover from his own operation and when I went back to the hospital for a check-up he was in a wheelchair. The doctor who was checking him up had done at my surgery so my husband said to him, I think you know my wife. The consultants looked at me and he said I’ve never seen her before in my life. Then the nurse who had been with him during my operation came in. She immediately recognise me and came over and started asking me how I was etc

The day after my operation my husband collapsed and was diagnosed with heart failure he must have been ill for some time and it wasn’t that bad but it rapidly got worse and worse.

Someone with severe heart failure starves because their abdomen is full of fluid. Because the heart is not processing the blood so it flows backwards into the lungs and into the abdomen.

I kept him at home until almost the end. Then she make it really surreal he was taken to the hospital as an emergency after being resuscitated They managed to keep him in A and E until he died thus he never did get a hospital bed

My own health has never become good again. Well it is not surprising is it I only had one day of restt after I had the surgery. Then they told me that I am very lucky to be alive now. Well after all that trauma it doesn’t seem fabulous trying to come to terms with it all especially when we got into lockdown.

Thank you to the Conservative Party. Without your coats to the NHS my husband would have been kept in the hospital overnight and not suffer this terrifying hemorrhage. Imagine me trying to clean the bathroom when the walls and the floor and everything was covered in blood and I could not even clean my husband’s body or and fresh pyjamas.

I couldn’t remember writing this post the hairy tales

The confusing swirl of violence broke down walls
And panic rushed in through the holes and gaps
I saw folk taking photos, checking maps,
Their phones gripped like a weapon that appals.

We see then what comprises our defence.
The connection to our family and friends.
The need to make a record of the end.
The need to look again till it makes sense.

I felt a well-known numbness cover me
My heart needs its own time to feel the pain
The world I live in is not safe, that’s plain.
From Al Jazeera to the BBC.

The many masks of innocence deceive.
Hatred of this kind is misconceived.

https://columbiametro.com/article/the-skill-of-patience/

Search 

Learning to accept daily frustrations

By Thomas Barbian, Ph.D.

Patience is a virtue! Or, at least that is how the saying goes. But is it really? Patience is defined as “the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble or suffering without getting angry or upset,” a definition with several important components. Patience is also a skill. We can work on increasing our ability to be patient and engage in practices to become a more patient person. 

Before looking at how to develop more patience, it is best to define what we are actually talking about. Patience (or the lack thereof — impatience) occurs in response to some sort of difficulty or delay in life that is not going according to expectation. A day can hardly be lived without encountering something that interferes with our plans, and so we might say that the “interferences” or “disruptions” are a normal part of life; to expect otherwise will make it difficult to be patient. 

 October 2, 2021

Ah,brother I don’t want you to lie still

No blood to circulate,no thoughts,no will

No help,no humour.jokes no

sharp true eye

From our old shared pram,to live, to die.

I used to do your homework

late at night

Abstract thought to you was no delight.

You wondered over X and y and z

Preferred the shapes of Nature in your head.

I shall retain the memories of the good

You who taught me speech and hate and love

Do we choose what we perceive each hour?
Or are we automata clothed in skin,
Wh see the thorns and then ignore the flower?

Can we, like grass, be grateful for a shower.
Or is our store of gratitude too thin?
Can we choose what we perceive each hour?

Can we choose to smile instead of cower?
Can we love the game played not to win?
Who sees sharp thorns but then ignores the flower?

Do we choose to love or to use power?
Can we choose the virtue, not the sin?
Do we choose what we perceive each hour?

As we struggle inside Babel’s tower
Ambivalence may torture some within
Most see the thorns and then ignore the flowers

With softened eyes ,we see the whole sweet bower
If we draw near, we see what is now dim
Can we choose what we perceive each hour?
Some see the thorns but then ignore the flowers.

If you came the shock would knot raw space

Then we could not touch, hold or umbrace

Our minds would fall to pieces in the dock

The judgement sentence alienates the flock

If you came I think that I might die

Hoping for these years death was a lie

The gap between us now deceives the eye

From these wounds small voices seem to cry p

If he comes back now, it is too late

The suffering self takes on a different shape.

Deformed by grief, I cannot fit his bed

Yet I remember every word he said

But words will fly away like swallows do

They do not join an I to any you.

A song a lyric music and a voice

We know too much, we’re overwhelmed with choice

Yet all alone our hearts flap seeking out

A bird is trapped inside me,heavy doubt.

My heart is in my throat will it fly high ?

If it leaves me I will surely die

The skeleton of bone, the muscles taut

Keep the heart inside, the danger out.

If you come oh, hold me very still.

I will weep again, until your fillef

Between the world and how we represent
The nameless by a name and  even  place,
There is a space or void in our intent.

What mother saw, what father really meant
How love and hate might intertwine in space?
In our own world, what can we represent?

In writing, there is lack and letters bent
For  ancient writing often  scholars traced
There is a space or void in our intent.

Today the sun is golden,  gods descend.
With love, for moments, we are all embraced
Of the felt, what can we represent?

Our willingness unblinds the heart so rent
And then we see the face within his face
The space or void lights for this sacrament

I cross my eyes with fingers interlaced:
The crucifix, the love, the death of Christ
Between the world and what we may attempt
There is a space or void where he was sent.

About poetry with W S Merwin

Is it some profound connection to the natural world?

MERWIN

The connection is there—our blood is connected with the sea. It’s the recognition of that connection. It’s the sense that we are absolutely, intimately connected with every living thing. We don’t have to be sentimental and pious about it, but we can’t turn our backs on that fact and survive. When we destroy the so-called natural world around us we’re simply destroying ourselves. And I think it’s irreversible.

INTERVIEWER

Do you see a connection between poetry and prayer?

MERWIN

I guess the simple answer is yes, if only because I think of poetry as an attempt to use language as completely as possible. And if you want to do that, obviously you’re not concerned with language as decoration, or language as amusement, although you certainly want language to be pleasurable. Pleasure is part of the completeness. I think of poetry as having to do with the completeness of life, and the completeness of relation with one’s experience, completing one’s experience, articulating it, making sense of it.

INTERVIEWER

How about the influence of Zen in your work?

MERWIN

When you talk about prayer in Judeo-Christian terms, prayer is usually construed as a kind of dualistic act. You’re praying to somebody else for something. Prayer in the Western sense is usually construed as making a connection. I don’t think that connection has to be made; it’s already there. Poetry probably has to do with the recognizing of that connection, rather than trying to create something that isn’t there.

If I wrote a villanelle  could readers tell?
We don’t need names to recognise   there’s form
I’ll write a  villanelle   and do it well

I’d sooner write a dirge for a sea shell.
The edges of the  sea shore   bring me calm
f I wrote a villanelle  could readers tell?

I’ll blow my trumpet and ring   a huge handbell.
My laughing eyes will bring to you much balm
I’ll write a  villanelle   and do it well

Please keep your counsel as in hermit’s cell
For false reports of doggerel  do  me harm
If I wrote a villanelle  would readers tell?

I’ve got as much appeal as little Nell!
What the  dickens happened to my charms?
I’ll write a  villanelle   and do it well

In a poem there’s  never need to yell.
No point in causing panic and alarm
If I wrote a villanelle  could readers tell?
I’ll write a  villanelle   and I’ll feel  swell

 

 

 

 

 

The face that was familiar is no more.

The world we made  seems empty and remote.

I do not feel the love I felt before.

I’m homeless world-less, comfortless at core

Wandering like the Jews with death ripped coats.

The face that was familiar is no more

Why can this man’s life not be restored?

I cannot eat, a lump has blocked my throat

I do not feel the love I felt before.

In my nightmares, I look for a door.

Or I search the lake from my small boat

That face that was familiar is no more

I beg for grace like some abandoned whore.

That time itself evaporates is gross.

I do not feel the love I felt before

The well is empty,like my husband’s clothes.

When they are gone, what can I then propose?

The face that was familiar fades away

Who will love me now,, how shall I pay?

Mary was in the hall  watering her rose scented geranium; she decided to move it into the kitchen as the hall might be a little too drafty.Mary was very anxious to make sure that this plant survived because it was a present from her cousin.
Suddenly the phone rang. perhaps it is Annie wanting to go out on some Christmas shopping expedition ,but no it was Mary’s cousin Bob who she knew had been very  ill and although he seems to be recovering she knew  he was quite anxious about dying

His voice was very faint and weak. Perhaps he is going to die, she   thought. he  does seemed to be frightened .

Do not be afraid.God is waiting for you and he knows everything
,He knows how  you looked after your sister when she had a breakdown and how you used to change the curtains and make the room  look beautiful to try to help her and yet she did not thank you .She was very unpleasant but you never gave up ; eventually when she died during her sleep it was both  a relief and a loss
God remembers everything and he is full of love for you . I do not know why God allows some people to suffer so much[ which is  a constant theme in human thinking since the book of Job was written.]
Now, I don’t say that you are Job ,but I do know  what you have endured. I have seen you being humbled  in cruel ways, I have seen you being ignored when you knew much more than the people who were talking

You cared your your cat  with utmost kindness until it recovered from its ill-treatment at those nasty neighbours of yours.
You have suffered  too through cancer and not  being able to eat foods that you liked but you have recovered.  You have worked in your garden   and grown beautiful flowers and vegetables Your fruit trees have been v productive and your whole garden is a testament to the fact that you love every living being, except your brother David, of course.,
There’s always trouble in that kind of set up when the mother prefers one child to another and  it has been a constant torment to you throughout your life. I have noticed  since you have both been older. you seem to have a more productive life now and I know you make wine and jam and mend all you can
I know that you did win an award when you were in your 20s for your research although you never told anybody. I wonder why you were so shy about telling people. You never did like to boast and I think I am similar to you.

I let Stan have his mistress next door  because I know that not every man is interested in Wittgenstein especially when it’s his wife who wants to talk about him  when he wants to take her to bed and enjoy her charms, tickle her and laugh  merrily and I only wish that you had been able to meet someone yourself who would have   valued you as a human being and felt warmth and attraction as well.

I do think you  tried to make the most of your capabilities limited as we are by economic,health  and political factors alas

Bob said to Mary :you have made me very happy

2 Days Later  Mary heard that Bob was much better and the doctor says he will soon be home again

What a disappointment for God meowed Emile, Mary’s little cat.  God got everything ready

Well no doubt  God had some help,.  Mary cried., that’s what I need . need some help ;this house is in a terrible mess as if my fate is to constantly keep trying to tidy up and yet the next day I have to start all over again.

I don’t mind cried Emile I think it’s wonderful I like a mess it makes me feel like playing more and having fun but when it’s all tidy and clean I feel terribly inhibited

Good  grief Emile, you  sound as if you’ve been to Oxford.

I did  once to go on a day trip to Oxford, the the cat  confessed .Annie took me in her handbag on a coach

Well all I can say is ,she must have got a very big handbag

Don’t be so rude Emile told her, you have got some big handbags and  you’ve got about 50 handbags in the wardrobe even now when you are a widow

That is a woman’s privilege Mary told him like getting a new hat is Easter; a handbag is a very important thing because it enables men to make their wives carry all their wallets and keys  so that they could have fun when they went to the seaside

Yes I can remember mother struggling along from Blackpool  North station to the beach with a gigantic handbag and a shopping bag full of sandwiches while everybody else ran on in front of her

I don’t know what we saw in Blackpool except the sea; the beach was so crowded you could hardly see the sand.

I guess the airwas cleaner,  the cat informed her in a manly way

I think I need a cup of tea said Mary go and get  Annie.

She won’t make the tea

No but she can drink some with me while I tell her all my thoughts and my feelings and I couldn’t free associate while she showed off her new makeup and jewellery and  her strangely coloured Christmas outfits.She is off to Wigan to visit the make up factory next week.If only it were in Southport I’d go too.

Well I’m in love with  Annie. I wish I was a man so I could marry her  and make it home for her

I’m sure you would have made a very good husband said Mary but God wants you to be a cat although you are a rather extraordinary cat and it is my good luck to be your owner or shall I say your mistress?

Aand so ask all of us

 

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/mar/19/mary-beard-interview-everyone-is-policing-everything-culture-wars?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

I drink my coffee from a mug my brother sent to me
I like to keep two separate ones for coffee and for tea
This one was expensive and it looks just like the sea
I think of Saltburn and the shore while I drink coffee.

From Teesmouth and Redcar we walked in loving times
The long beach was quite empty, Saltburn pier’s divine.
I kept a little journal where I spelt it out in rhyme
I may come from Manchester but these sands are very fine.

We went to Whitby and Sandsend and loved it all the more
My husband liked the pork pie shop and he ate 24.
He didn’t eat them all at once, a fact I do deplore.
For pork pies are sustaining when you walk miles on the shore.

His daddy liked the heather best, his mammy liked the sea.
And she was much the stronger one, it was evident to me.
So if you go to Roseberry and that Topping great
Remember his old daddy and all his working mates

They spent their lives in ICI breathing in foul air
But they earned a living and so they all stayed there.
My husband was asthmatic and they took him out of town
He spent 3 months up in the Moors, his mammy turned dark brown.

She must have been of mixed up race, an ethnic half-caste pearl
She was always called as white when she was just a girl.
But when she spent 12 weeks outdoors then the people saw
Black and white are not quite right to describe our skins-in-law.

http://www.arkadiansystems.com/?p=1391

Daniel Spinnett was a newly  homeless man in a horrible  wealthy but cruel country called the Reblighted Kingdom.He had been married once but his wife often  used to hurl his hot dinner at him if he was a bit late home and she also had four lovers into the bargain.When she was made Head of Uncivil Service UK he decided he was leaving her and hoped for a second chance and maybe a child as well with a gentler woman
At first he was truly happy in his new  commodious flat and also with  meeting women on the Guardian Solemates website; all too  soon his firm was affected by the recession and he ended up with no money to pay his rent ; his ex-wife was completely unsympathetic. though she was absolutely rolling in money and men or both !
He went to the Council to seek for cheap accommodation
I have nowhere to live.The rents in Lone-don are so high.. can I get a council flat?I am on job seekers allowance of £70 per week…
A council flat?The man behind the desk laughed sarcastically like a dying flea.
There ain’t no such anymore,mi duck…didn’t you know the Trying Lady sold them off.
Did you not build more using that money,he enquired courteously and logically. as was his wont
Sorry,chum, we spent it on wine, women and bling… gold watches, golf clubs, moats, you know
Daniel felt very upset so he set out to walk to Lightwebbs Forest a couple of miles away for a time of  green beauty and quietness…He fell asleep under an old oak ; he was nervously exhausted ,no doubt
When he woke up a huge cat was standing near him staring curiously
Hello, the cat said in a kindly but loud voice
Hello,I am Daniel from down the road
Well, the cat said,I’m a lion from the circus.We have escaped and we are living here in the woods.
But what do you eat? asked Dan.
Well,we forage around and we find food left out for house cats.;we also have learned to cook leaves and grass over a fire in a double boiler.
The lion smiled down at Daniel showing a light in his amber eyes
You look very thin.Why don’t you come with me to have dinner?
Daniel was  afraid of the lion but he had no alternative in mind.
After a circuitous walk they reached the deepest,densest  most magical part of the wood.There were four lions,two tigers and four  leopards all looking happy
Is this our dinner,they cried excitedly as they gazed at Daniel.
No,this is a poor starving man with no home.
Well.lie down Dan and eat this leafy risotto..
Absolutely delicious,awesome, he cried greedily as he used his hands like a child with no table manners
Then the first lion asked Dan to come with him to his own den.
When they got there he said piteously
I have got a problem and none of the animals here  can help.I have got a piece of barbed wire stuck in my tail and I need a human with fingers to untangle it..
Daniel looked and there was about 12 inches of barbed wire which hit  and beat the old  lion as he walked or ran.Dan managed to untwist it and uuntangle it.He got some water from the stream and washed the lion’s backside where the barbs had cut into him..I have no Elastoplast, he muttered anxiously.The fresh air will heal it, said the lion gently….

And that was how Daniel came to be living in the lion’s den.
He says he prefers it to living with his dominating wife.
He certainly looks fitter than before and is considering asking for surgery to change into a lion on the NHS as there is a lady lion whom he has fallen in love with.No doubt lions don’t get married in church but they do love each other very deeply.
Just go to the forest and take a look next time you fall asleep.
Now the lions enjoy even better food because Daniel has  recipe books and unlike the lions,he can read.They found some old sauce pans at the recycling centre so he can do cheese sauce using milk from the sheep on the edge of the wood,
If you knew what went on in our many woods,you’d definitely get a big surprise..I can tell you