Once I cared for people who were old Who wet themselves and felt the winter cold I gave them baths and washed their backs and fronts Helped them to get dressed and zip their pants
I made them pots of tea and gave them cake I gave them dinner on a china plate I listened to their stories of the past An unknown world of war and terrors vast
And if they cried I’d wipe away their tears Talk to them till sorrow disappeared I’d do the washing up and clean the knives The women missed their being someone’s wife
Now I am old and I have realised I really had no feel for what it’s like.
,OBy the turn of the century, as evidenced by a 1906 Metropolitan Museum of Art article, book collecting was no longer disparaged. Skill was required to separate the gold from the dross; book collecting was now a “whole science” and readers were told that they, too, could score a find, as long as they possessed “keen judgment, faultless taste, inexhaustible patience – and contempt for ridicule”. As the author points out, it takes special knowledge to know that Franklin Evans’s The Story of an Inebriate – a book many would throw away – was actually Walt Whitman’s “first published work, and that it is rare and valuable”. Bibliomania was now a bragging righy
My eye has fallen on your funny face You look so dear I cannot shift my gaze Both love and humour cherish and embrace Your skin and smile and on them gladly graze.
My tears have fallen on your fine made hands As you held me to comfort and caress And on our fingers are our wedding bands Which symbolise that union God did bless
My nose has sniffed the honey of your smell My ears have heard the your much desired gruff voice. My fingers know your crevices so well My toes all tingle as in need of vice.
For serious words are death to married joy And so my humour I shall now employ.
My heart is like a rowing boat adrift Whose occupant has fallen overboard The empty vessel floats through deep sea mist. And in his pearl filled ears the deep sea roars.
Just as the boat drifts mapless,so do I. My maps were drawn for quite another sea My captain’s taken leave and now I cry As if that drowned soul might just be me.
Yet on the sea bed mysteries abound; Such wonders and such magic there displayed. I wonder if it is my lot drown And to a memory then quickly fade.
Maps are no more certainties than hints. Between the lines hides gold from other mints.
In my dream, I gave birth to a child The doctor said that he would die quite soon My feelings overwhelming made me wild
The Nazi doctor threw him on a pile I lay there unmoving as I keened In my dream,I gave birth to a child
A week passed by,I knew that death beguiled Frozen lips made no sound, song or tune My feelings overwhelming made me wild
I had to rise and say my black goodbye. My baby with the others;horror loomed In my dream I gave birth to a child
I picked him up , when suddenly he smiled I held him to my breast, my songs I crooned My feelings overwhelming drove me wild
I had to carry him, the landscape gloom A desert grey aand rocky like some moon In my dream I gave birth to a child In terror I had walked yet love consoled
Stan was feeling somewhat glum,nay even despairing,on Monday morning.
Mary had gone to work on her new folding 6 gear bicycle with own basket and an extra basket from Wells-next -the- Sea 1995
[the wicker basket now somewhat grey in hue.]
He was left at home sorting out all his art work and materials as well as doing the baking,cooking and bathing Emile,the delightful yet trying male cat.
Sunk in dark misery,Stan sat in an old uncomfortable chair in the darkest part of the room, while Emile snored on the rug by the bright French windows
.Stan went through all the possible reasons for his state of mind.Was he guiltyabout his flings with his alluring next door neighbour Annie?
Could it be his failure to toilet train Emile? Or his omitting to carry out the penance given by Father Brown after Stan confessed to stealing sweets on the way to Confession in 1956?
The longer Stan brooded the more reasons he found for his depression.
He could hardly get up to make a cup of coffee ..even instant seemed too much trouble.Would he even clean his teeth which somehow he’d failed to do?
The doorbell rang… it was a new cord for his laptop as Emile had been chewing the current one ,and 29 books in a sack from Amazon which his wife must have ordered,as he had no recollection of any such foolish spending.
How would they pay the bill on the credit card? he ruminated.
Later in the day.Annie peered through the window.She tapped on the glass with her well manicured blue finger nails.
Let me in she cried.
I’m too tired for any hanky panky he murmured lovingly as he ran his fingers through her thick red tresses.What is this delightful perfume,beloved,he questioned her.
It’s Poison! she replied.Oh no,sorry it’s Iris and Jasmine Eau de toilette from the Bodyshop.
Despite his lowly sunken state Stan loved this perfume.He sniffed rabidly at her well rounded form
.Well,shall we have some tea,she enquired.
Stan sat there hand on chest.I’ve been feeling a little gloomy,he muttered.She peered at him.
You look terribly pale,Stan.Where’s your angina spray?
I can’t recall,he said.Oh,here it is in my vest.
What a strange place to keep it,she responded.
Mary made pockets for all my vests.at one time you could buy vests with pockets
She’s good at sewing despite being so clever.In fact she loves doing things with her hands.
Annie got the GNT spray out and handed it to him.
Have you got a pain?
Well,yes,now you mention it,I do,he replied verbosely.
Well,in the name of God, use the bloody thing,she whispered endearingly into his left ear.
He opened his mouth,raised his tongue and with his hand resting lightly on his chin he pressed the button with his forefinger.
His head began to throb.
Annie appeared with a cup of Earl Grey tea and a biscuit.
Why,you look a little better.Do you need another dose?
No,I feel much better now.I’ve had it before.
He drank the tea but didn’t eat the biscuit which he threw out later in crumbs for the field mice in the shed.
His spirits began to rise.Why did he always forget that physical ailments can worsen a mood?He still felt a trifle glum but nothing a meringue wouldn’t put right.
OK,what shall I make for Mary’s supper? he enquired.
You sit there in the window and I’ll just make my special spaghetti,Annie replied gaily,as long as I can stay too.
Yes,I’ll open some red wine he said youthfully,and we can have fried apples and bananas for pudding with non fat Greek yoghurt.
What a wise choice she murmured gently into his ear………that will use up some of the newly picked apples,the bananas were from Lidl’s as usual.
Well,Stan you look better.said Mary happily,You’ve been pale all weekend.Was it Annie who cheered you up,not to put too fine a point on it?
Actually it was nitroglycerine,he said roguishly,but Annie made me use it.
But for us women you’d be dead,she replied equably.
But for you delightful creatures I wouldn’t be here at all,he moaned ecstatically.
Now then Stan,control yourself she urged,After all we have a visitor,Annie!
What a hoot,he thought as he twisted spaghetti round his fork in a careless manner splashing tomato sauce all over his new green acrylicjumper.
Thank the Lord for washing machines,Mary said.
I didn’t know Jesus invented them,Annie said with a tone of mild sarcasm but no-one bothered to reply.
As told by Emile to the local paper.
And believed by all of us
Mary was walking down the High Street of a little town a few miles from Knittingham. Here stood tall trees, which have been hacked into stumps by the local council,They are vehemently opposed to anything that might change the town into an upmarket suburb of Knittingham. They wante it to be ‘modern’, like a small version of Manhattan or Paris, maybe, or even London. but there was not enough room to build a skyscraper or a Gherkin, like the one that Ken Livingstone had erected in London after he went to Soho
Mary was wearing a long, blue, unlined, woollen coat from Marks and Spencer, over a dark grey and green sweater dress, with matching leather boots . iIn her hand, she carried a large green handbag, which contained her Kindle Paperwhite and her purse
Suddenly she had a loud cry: “Mary, Mary!”.
She looked round and there was an old friend whom she knew before the advent of smartphones and computers and, therefore, not being very well organised, she had lost the address of this dear lady, Margaret.
“Shall we go and have a cup of coffee in that Turkish restaurant?”, Margaret inquired politely.I have my cat in the car and I’ll get him a scone.The people are very friendly
“What a brilliant idea!”, Mary cried, “I have come out just to have a change of scene and Annie, my friend in in Knittingham, has got measles I have a cat myself
“I do hope you’ve had measles already”, said Margaret.
Yes, I have”, Mary lied.
“Well, tell me your latest news. How is your rheumatoid arthritis? Have they given you any of these new drugs, which suppress your immune system to stop it from attacking your own body?”
“No, they haven’t given me any yet”, Margaret replied cheerfullyA bit late now
“I believe that, nowadays, they give them to people right at the beginning of the illness tbut, in my day, they did not give them to you until it was fully developed , unfortunately, I have become somewhat disabled.”
“Well, how do you manage living on your own?”Do you have a lover who might help you?
“No lover as yet but I have various devices that I can use”, Margaret told her with a twinkle in her eye, giving Mary the impression that Margaret was the owner of a gigantic array of vibrators and other similar implements trying them out for some Health Magazine for the handicapped
Mary was thinking that they were probably better than codeine for taking your mind off your pains and aches which, in the case of arthritis can be excruciating, making it impossible in many cases for a woman to have sex though she had imagined marrying her cat Emile as he had expressive eyes and did not desire her body She did not tell Margaret what she was thinking but said:
“I know that you can get a stand for your electric kettle, so that you can pour the water out of it without lifting the kettle up from the work surface., and you can also get vacuum cleaners that are self-propelled.”
As Mary had a great many books, she was unlikely to buy one of these vacuum cleaners, because they would knock over all her carefully choosing piles of scholarly works and art books, not to mention the tubs full of pens and pencils, and coloured pastel chalks.
When they went into the cafe, the waitress was very polite and soon they were drinking their coffee at a little table in the window, from where they could see the local people passing by.Many were wearing badges asking for an end to the Civil War in Britain
“You’ll never guess what happened to me”, Margaret said
, “I was in the bookshop, where they have a folding chair for me to sit ; they know I can’t stand up for a long time without suffering pain. I’d just sat down when this young woman came up to me and said:”
“You can’t sit there and read: you have to go upstairs and sit in and armchair.”
“Well, if you show me the lift, I will be very happy to go upstairs ” , I said humorously
.Or maybe you can carry me up as you are very heavy and strong
“We don’t have a lift”, t he woman cried loudly, “We only have one for us to take books upstairs and we do not allow customers to use it, because it is not insured.”
=Would you mind if I just sat here for 5 minutes?”
“No!, you cannot sit there for 5 minutes”
“ Well, I was unable to get up, straight away”, said Margaret “but, as soon as I could, I put the expensive book, which Ihad been going to buy, back onto the rack of new non-fiction and saved £20 there and then
” “That’s not very nice”, continued Mary. i“It might even be illegal to tell a disabled person to go up some stairs, when there is no lift or escalator.”
Margaret called “Let’s talk about something else. I like that coat: it’s a lovely shade of Prussian blue
“Never say the word Prussian to me”, said Mary “it reminds me of the war.”
“Well”, said Margaret “if our luck continues on its present track and also the Middle East, there will be almost no country that we can talk about it without getting distressed by the name.”
It’s a real indictment of humankind.Civilisation is inextricably linked to War.Let#s put that thought aside and talk about clothes instead
“I like this coat however we name the olour”, said Mary “because it is made of wool and the sleeves are lined but the body is not lined, which means that is suitable for this early spring weather and also quite llight to wear always an advantage for the older lady. iIt also covers up whatever else I am wearing underneath because it is quite long.”
“What on earth are you wearing underneath?”tMargaret asked humorously
“For all you know I might have nothing underneath it”, said Mary “exccept a pair of silk knickers and a silk vest.”
But I have a dress on over my silk and wool underwear,I am using an deodorant called
Unarmed and dangerous
“ I have changed a lot since my husband died and I do all sorts of peculiar things. For example, I believed in times it will soon be legal to marry an animal and I would like to marrylEmile, so that he can sleep in bed with me rather than on top of the bed.”
“But he might scratch you accidentallyy! “, cried Margaret.And can he kiss you?
“Oh, there’s always a fly in the ointment”, Mary said.
“Well don’t marry the fly”, her friend responded.”I don’t think that Father Brown would like that, even if it could speak and say ‘I do’; it would definitely not want to sleep in bed with you. it will be flying around your bedroom, buzzing all night, and I don’t think it’ll be the only. one” “I have to marry a spider then”, said Mary, “Maybe two spiders”
They both laughed uproariously, to the amazement of all the other people in a cafe
“It’s good to see old ladies laughing isn’t it?”
It certainly is.”
“So will you be going back to that book shop?”
“Well, I did try to go back but, as I approached the door, my mouth went very dry and I realised I was getting that ‘fight or flight’ reaction, even though I didn’t feel so anxious but something inside me was worried that history was about to repeat itself and I ’d be the object of scorn and derision.”
“Yes, it’s horrible to feel humiliated isn’t it”, said Mary.
“I was reading an article in the Guardian, which said that some scientists of the most social sorts have discovered that even the nicest people unconsciously see disabled people as less than human.”.
“Oh my god! that is very frightening because I am getting older and I might get disabled and then I will suffer like you do.”
“Well, you have to be tolerant of suffering”
But how tolerant should one be? I don’t want to have back some of those politically correct people who go around like Methodist -preachers, attacking people who are agnostic or who want unisex toilets
“Are there any heterosexual toilets?”
“I’ve never seen any but you never know.”
After drinking their coffees, they walked into Marks and Spencer’s to look at the new spring clothing
That looks like a satin tracksuit!”, Mary called politely
“I believe that the short trousers are coming back into fashion. tThey are a big problem because itthey puts all the focus on your ankles, so you cannot wear those dirty old socks that you can wear at home or with long trousers. I think they are a plot to make us buy ankle boots.”
Everything’s a plot now, isn’t it.
“Don’t say that to the doctor or she will think you are getting paranoia.”
“Getting paranoia? I’ve been paranoid all my life.”“How sad!”
We’ll, nowadays you need a bit of paranoia, especially if you come from Europe and believe that you can work in Britain and contribute to the economy, while enjoying all the lavish pleasures of London city and nightlife.”
“The so-called foreigners are much more courteous than English people. iIn fact I a’m ashamed to be English now and I pretend that I came from Ireland instead.”
You look more like a Valkyrie.”
“Don’t say that! I hate the composer Wagner.”
“I do believe the word existed before he wrote the music but I understand how you feel. It’s not your fault that you’ve got blonde hair and blue eyes and a white skin.”
“My hair isn’t really blonde any more. I think it’s more silvery, like Helen Mirren.”
“Does it really matter what her hair looks like now?”
”“Well, we have to amuse ourselves somehow and, since we no longer have husbands, wel ’re deprived of much pleasure and love, and we have to put out the wheelie bins ourselves, which I think is really awful.”
“I do some vacuuming, now and then, I move books out of the bookcase and carry them into the other room and, you won’t believe this, last week I accidentally put a bag of nearly new clothes into the ‘dirty’ wheelie bin and found I still had the rubbish in the hall.! Unfortunately, the bins had been emptied and there was nothing I could do to get them back.Mind you, I did feel a certain relief but as the hall was no longer full of black bin liners and other stuff like that..
Not to mention all those cables, cords, and chargers that we have nowadays. I think the computer was invented purely to give us more things to buy, to keep the economy going. Nobody really wanted to have computers but they realised that, once you got one, you would want to connect it to your camera, or your television, or the printer, and so it would mean a big market for those cables and cords.
But it gives me something to do, while the Government argue about Brexit.”
It’s not just the Government who are arguing. My gardener nearly hit me when I said I wanted to remain in Europe. I am forbidden to mention Brexit anywhere near him.”
“I have noticed that it doesn’t matter what the evidence is,; even the most intelligent people will not change their minds, so it must be coming from a deeper level.”
“It sounds as though people are trying to understand why Hitler wanted to exterminate the Jews and they have come up with all sorts of theories about his childhood. I thought it might be related to sexual fantasy but the latest idea is that it is beyond explanation in any human terms; it is evil beyond our ability to explain. It is not true that, if Hitler did not exist, someone else would have behaved the same way. He could have lost his mind when he was defeated by Russia at Stalingrad but, if you lost your mind, would you go and exterminate six million Jews and gays or 6 million other people?
The frightening thing is that it could so easily become the way that Muslims are treated. People say to me: “I don’t want to think about politics, it’s upsetting me”,
but isn’t that what the German said in the 1930s? If we don’t bother about it, we may find ourselves in a trap that we can’t escape from.
It is painful to think about these things, when we would rather think about the daffodils and the magnolia flowers, but who will protect usor guard us,when we go further down this lunacy track.”
“Yes, I see what you mean. iIt’s like thinking that know, if people are depressed, sad, worried, it’s just thought to be very, very bad and they have been put on tablets and getting CBT when, in fact, it may be appropriate to feel that way, as long as one can channel it into some useful activity.”
i“It can give you energy… I believe there’s a big march in London against racism and fascism. I don’t know wherether the big marches have any effect. dDo you remember the one against the Iraq War? One of the biggest matrches ever seen in London and yet it made absolutely no difference to Tony Blair.”
“Anyway, just give me your news before we depart.”
“I shall tell you what; I’ll give you my email address and then we can communicate about our children or our other activities: grand-children etc. Maybe we can meet more frequently now, as we don’t have to rush home to make the dinner.”
The two women hugged each other before they separated and then Mary went back to the High Street. although she couldn’t remember now what she was going to buy.It might have been an electric tin opener, or a bottle of wine, or a throw from Robert Dyas to hide under, if anybody looked through the window.
Does it matter what she was going to buy? s She just wanted to get some fresh air, and meeting old friends always a good things, especially for aged people
I’m sure Emile would agree, if Mary brought him with her in her handbag, but he was putting on weight and is a little bit too heavy to carry. It would be wonderful if Emile were very big, then Mary could ride on his back as if he were a donkey
Why not buy a real donkey?
Stan was feeling puzzled. He stood in his front room staring at the rowan tree outside.
Do ants fall in love, he asked himself.
Are swans the most beautiful birds?
Shall I send Annie a card tomorrow?
Should I send Mary one as well?
He went outside and watched the ants running up and down the tree trunk. They seem to work so hard but they never get bored.
But is that true? We have no way of knowing. At last Stan has found a question with no answer.
Is boredom a unique quality of humans?
If that were so we ought to have a Patron Saint of Boredom though not of Bores.
Why are some people so boring?
Luckily Annie had seen Stan and rushed out in a teal coloured all wool dress made more striking by having butterfly motifs scattered on it at random.
“Why have you got those butterflies on your clothes ?” he asked her scientifically
“It’s to cover up the moth holes.”She pertly replied.
“You must have a lot of moths. Do moths fall in love? Do they get bored?”
“You seem in a funny mood today,” Annie murmured.
“Why don’t we go out for coffee?”
“I’ve just made a pot full. Please join me.”
“Thank you,” she cried mildly.
They sat down in the kitchen where Emile was sitting by the window.
“Good morning,Emile,”Annie shouted.
“No need to shout,” Emile miaowed politely.”I’m not deaf”.
“I am sorry, Emile.” she responded furtively,” I am over-excited.”
“Why is that? Stan demanded like an untrained philosopher in a maths class
“Well, I’ve already had ten Valentines.
“Already. You must have done it fast!” he teased her gently.
“No, you horrible idiot. I mean cards.
“You must be popular”
“Some look like women’s writing.”
“Let me see,” he asked swiftly.
To his surprise, one was in the handwriting of his wife Mary.
“Are you bisexual?” he asked her wonderingly.
“No, I’m just annissexual,” she replied saucily.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, it’s just one letter away from “Anti-sexual.”
“That’s a relief. You are not anti yet, then.”
“Not yet”, she whispered coyly.
“Would you make love to a woman?”
“Only if she made love to me.”
Mmmmmm
.Apparently seeing lesbian movies turns men on.do you watch them?”
“Not bloody likely,I want to get turned off.”
“That could be boring,” she said sweetly as she combed his eyebrows with an old toothbrush.
“Well,I could do the polishing better and get the house sorted out. Fill the freezer with casseroles and defrost the oven.
Yes, though would that be so rewarding as loving another human?
“I guess not” he answered slavishly.
“Shall we go to your place and have a cuddle.
OK
Emile was very put out as he liked to see people kissing but he had grown very philosophical over the years and at least he could get on with his book,
“Wittgenstein’s cat.”
He switched on the netbook and began to type:
“Not everyone knows how important cats were in philosophy. But now we can reveal all.
The saying,
“Of that which we cannot speak, we must miaow” was inspired by Daisy who lived in Cambridge
And,” Of that which we cannot purr we must yowl.” was inspired by Ludo, a fine male cat that lived with Wittgenstein in Ireland.
So as Emile types, we must tiptoe away for he has not much time
Mary was admiring her curtains :;what a wonderful sense of colour this woman had. It was the one thing which her mother had praised her for . She had not been praised for becoming top of the class at the convent school not for getting a degree. No Mary realised that her mother has a sense of colour because it will be useful when Mary got married and had to make her own curtains.
What a nuisance Mary was no good with the sewing machine. In fact she was afraid of it. That’s one sure way of getting out of a task. Be afraid of the sewing machine clumsy with the knitting needles and when asked to make a cake always put the oven at the wrong temperature so this is either burnt or it is not ready when the visitors come.
And if people know you’re good at making cakes you will get more and more visitors and you won’t have time to read the Oxford dictionary of abstract words or the Oxford dictionary of new words. It is be very hard if we had to spend all the time making cakes and not being allowed to read a book.
Mary was no good at making her own clothes. She had to get a science degree so she could earn her own money. She was terrified of being on the dole and did not want to go on the game as ehe was a virgin. That’s her version of it
When Mary got married to Stan she told him that she did not make cakes and she did not make curtains. Fortunately they could afford to choose the fabric and then get someone else to make it into curtains,
It’s very important to learn about colour unless you go to art school it’s not often discussed in school. Colourcan help you to recover from illness…….
I have walked the silent paths of griefSunless,dreary,cold and all alone.I have slept on bed of winter leaves.Oh Death you are a cruel and devious thief.Although my heart weeps and my joy has gone.I have never felt I was deceived.I have learned that human life is brief.I have learned by sorrow we’re undone.I have sifted earth and what’s beneath.I felt the dark emotions seethe I've been cruelly mocked by glaring sun.I have grasped the geography of grief.I wait with patienceel for this life to cease
Or will a fluttering wing make chaos come,Change my heart and give me a fresh lease?Unconsoled grief can make us dumbInto our hearts, we drag the ice that numbsI have walked the silent paths of griefI have made my bed on winter leaves.
They are like some other beings altogether the cry more animal than human The wordless pathos, musical,disturbing They have gone back to a troubled and unimagined infancy but no mother responds to such a nightmare of overgrown voice boxes the cry of a rabbit wolf in a trap it’s the shriek in the wall cry of a baby in a psychotic nightmare. Nicholas haunts Sylvia in the evocative memory of Ariel And so it will end for you and me Trapped in this old body with its old brain on and on they cry help me, help me,help me nurse nurse I want the manager I want the manager I don’t want to be here I don’t want to be here I want to go home Help me we don’t listen because they have dementia what they say has no meaning. that’s our defence I am the norm You are abnormal but you smiled when I asked you if you would like your hair dyed pink and I know you love the music therapist. Your smell repels Alas Is this where Jesus dwells If you did this to the least of my little ones, you did it to me. We you haven’t forgotten about Eros you are still hoping to find love you are not dead yet but you can’ wait to go home Published by Katherine
Making fluid of something rigid, manifests in the reader as assiduous attention and detailed memory. This in no way diminishes the work done by musicians, painters, etc. Van Gogh, a tuning fork for eternity, defies this world, transcends almost everything known to man and cannot be escaped. But since the human mode is defined by its parameters, one of them being the limitation of speech, literature serves as an existentially referential and intimately human degree of expression.
Maybe it is not so much literature’s innate qualities as it is our human predictability that something using language, our own invention, appeals so deeply to us. Literature may simply be the highest form of flattery, not art — the injection of language with a musical heart, the created used to manipulate the creator. Yet the difficulty of accomplishing such a feat classifies it as something above the mundane, defying the fundamental matrix of human experience. It is inextricably bound to our ancient, desperate attempt to concretize our instinct, and therefore its achievement adheres, in perhaps the most detail, inside the mind. In using the human to transcend it, literature assumes a sort of divinity. Literature, precisely because
English: A schizophrenic patient at the Glore Psychiatric Museum made this piece of cloth and it gives us a peek into her mind. Русский: Вышивка, сделанная пациентом, страдающим от шизофрении. Экспонат психиатрического музея Глор, Миссури. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
My foreign students said I was too warm to be British,so turn off your heating now or face execution as a traitor.
What people forget is we Brits are a mixed race… then we have the nerve to call people,wogs,dagos and foreigners.we are all foreigners here apart from the Welsh.
Some students told me their dreams;s,anything to avoid algebra!
I personally found quantum theory helps to avoid emotional overspill…
and topology is useful for dressmakers
Dreams and love are all very well… if you are a millionaire.Till then keep on with figures,asymmetry and words.
Friends are no use unless you are a real person.Whatever she is.
Schizophrenia is to some extent cowardliness………….keep your feet on the ground and say straight out what you mean without entering into wordplay,fey ways,being a seer and seeing how life veers.It’s all absolute bullshit.Only not all bulls are male.
Some bulls are e-male.
Depression is mainly the result of being driven.So give up the chauffeur and take your time.
Some loose women are fast and vice versa.Isn’t logic trying?
I was so thin when I began lecturing I got half fare on the bus and I was 25.So studying keeps you young.Never say,Dirac,again.
I was so thin then I bought children’s clothes but now I am twice the size.Then they said I might have TB,now they say I could get diabetes.Take your pick……there’s something in me that will never take the middle way.My middle gets in the way.
We all eat too much considering how little we do.Bring back the scrubbing board,brush and hard green soap.But if I eat less I faint…. what an ‘orrible feeling as your vision shrinks to a pinpoint and you sweat all over but more on the top of the head…. and you throw yourself onto the floor… or the ceiling.
Once we were having a meal with another couple…with one of those heated plate things on the table.I passed out and for years they talked about it.They divorced later and blamed me!Still,I gave them something to talk about so maybe I helped.
If you get disturbed stop introspecting and sweep the floor or the pavement.Do useful things with your hands and help others.Be polite even if you think they are the Devil
Mary was walking down the High Street of a little town a few miles from Knittingham. Here stood tall trees, which have been hacked into stumps by the local council,They are vehemently opposed to anything that might change the town into an upmarket suburb of Knittingham. They wante it to be ‘modern’, like a small version of Manhattan or Paris, maybe, or even London. but there was not enough room to build a skyscraper or a Gherkin, like the one that Ken Livingstone had erected in London after he went to Soho
How my heart speaks 