
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

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
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

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

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
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.

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
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


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
From 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
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
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
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

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?
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? …

Gwyneth Lewis | The Poetry Foundation https://share.google/Oj3GlDKcGORJsRjcA

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

Mary woke up feeling gloomy and tired.She drank her tea which Stan used to bring her.It’s a real nuisance for a woman having to make her own tea in the morning I am fed up, she told Emile.I miss my bicycle but it’s too dangerous now.And walking hurts. Sitting by her bed she viewed all the clothes she had recently washed and dried which were manifold.What to do with them.Well,Mary thought ,with our ideas we have to categorise them and so I will apply the same principle here. She divided her clothes into groups.Then into subgroups. Why, it’s a science she thought.Then she folded her underwear neatly just the way it came in the packs from M and S the famous Jewish, British and EU department store. She put all the odd socks into a clear polythene bag and put the remaining ones onto a shelf in her white wooden wardrobe.She admired her teal coloured tights which Stan had loved and put them with the black ones she wore most often in winter Suddenly she heard a dog bark.What’s that? she shouted in alarm Emile giggled. I did it.he said, you were not listening to me.So I barked. I am sure God will not like that.What did you want? It’s time for coffee, he announced. Alright, Mary said.I’ll leave these polo necks till later.They want downstairs into the teal and cream coloured kitchen/breakfast room and Mary filled the kettle and took her Nokia off the charger. It seems to run down too fast, she thought.Even when I never used it.I only got it for emergencies and £5 a month from BT seems a good offer.But like many of her gadgets she really bought them to see how they worked; as she had a good sense of direction; she did not really use the maps. She picked up the post.There was the dreaded bank statement and Credit Card Bill. from M and S Hello,Barclays here. Hello,I have not had a statement from you lately. You never use the card. That’s true, said Mary, I forget to buy anything.I forget I am a woman In her purse she found a cheque for £60 from the Inland Revenue. Look Emile.I’ll buy you a new basket.And some cat toys. Thanks purred Emile.You are so sweet,mother. I’m not your mother, Mary informed him wildly Well, you are like a mother, kind and gentle… most of the time. You little flattery battery, she giggled. Looking at the bank statement she was relieved not to be over-drawn.Stan had expensive tastes and she always bought him too many clothes, the best food and other delightful things.He was not greedy, she had enjoyed spoiling him and so did he! Well,two horrible jobs done she thought and her mood rose as she realised things were better than she had hoped. Even finding the cheque was out of date did not worry her.She phoned the Tax Office who said they’d send another one. We all know how nice it is to get a little money we didn’t expect. She went upstairs and decided to change her outfit.She took off her comfy old jeans and put on a black needlecord dress with blue and green flowers all over with a pair of smart black shoes. Why are you all dressed up,asked Emile. To give pleasure to the human race, she murmured as she put on her red wool winter coat. I am going out to take some photos she said.The magnolias are out and the bluebells. Which camera shall I take,she pondered.. I’ll take this Nikon one, she decided; Because I like the name. Is that a good way to choose a camera, asked Emile. Well, what do you suggest? Well many are called cameras but few are chosen , the naughty cat replied. I know I have several she said.People give me their old ones and as I am ignorant they all seem ok to me.They are my toys. And how about that new wok and the ceramic milk pan? I’ve been taking notes, Emile wittered on Are you going to be a detective, Mary laughed. Can’t a woman buy a new pan?I keep burning the non-stick ones so I decided to try ceramic. I hope you don’t stir fry my cat food, Emile chortled. No, I have not yet got a wok cookery guide. But you have got an electric egg boiler, which surprised me, he miaowed. It’s because it switches itself off, she told him.I get engrossed in my study of enjambent and forget the time. Thinking is bad for you,Emile told her. And so say all of us. Thinking is bad for the brain I’ll never do it again. I’ll be a girl again Ignore all fine, handsome men. I’ll got out and play in the rain

When the policeman came I was in the kitchen
I heard the front door opening and then his voice
Your son is in the infirmary, he was knocked from his bicycle by a large wall that fell down as he was passing.
Every hair on my head stood up like a bristle
Next we were at the Royal infirmary
Mam runs in and sees my brother; she starts hitting him
That’s all I remember but it was lucky in a way because the people responsible gave him a new bicycle
No one in our family ever had a new bicycle even myself when I was teaching at the university I had a second hand bicycle.
Was I waiting for a wall to fall on me? Well it’s too late now because I can’t see but I can’t stand up easily but if someone lifted me I could ride a bicycle.
There was some law that we couldn’t have anything even when we needed it and we stuck to this law most of our lives but never worked out why.
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 looters
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 last Call.
What is my vocation,what my Play?


She gave him a potential smile. Thar meant if he behaved himself he would get a real smile later in the day. Unfortunately he did not know how to behave himself after 30 years with her but surely one day the marriage will be consummated.
When the potential becomes actual

The world of physics is essentially the real world construed by mathematical abstractions, and the world of sense is the real world construed by the abstractions which the sense-organs immediately furnish. To suppose that the “material mode” is a primitive and groping attempt at physical conception is a fatal error in epistemology. Susanne K. Langer, Philosophy in a New Key: A Study in the Symbolism of Reason,