Rolling marbles made of coloured glass Skipping rope and learning ancient rhymes Filling inkwells , polishing the brass With dip-in pens we wrote upon the lines
Licking out the bowl where cakes were mixed Running wild with brothers and their friends Wonder at those fireworks Daddy fixed Catherine wheels rotating, transcendent
Mother smiling in her flowery dress Little rocking chairs where we placed dolls Daddy saying,Good night and God Bless Teddies with no fur left, ask our Paul
Little sisters, brothers’ cricket balls Hot coal fires where kettles used to boil Old gas cookers, scabbed knees from our falls Fuses blowing, making light bulbs fail
In our bed , we whispered little tales In the morning feeling warm and dazed Love was in the air, the baby wailed Dad so pleased with Mother’s happy face
I see the cobblestones all hot with sun The Street Party , the Coronation
‘To be able to draw from observation, he believed, was “the foundation for fine art, for applied art, for architecture, for thinking, for coming up with ideas, for opening our minds through an intense process of really looking at the world around us”.
I think this artwork was done by me on my computer
what brings you here Not literally? [ could be autistic] No, you are always here in a sense. Well, you know English is not my first language [ excuses] No, you were here before language.How hard to imagine. I have come here because of my guilt [ trying to be human ] I’ll be judge, I’ll be jury, said cunning old fury
Very adroit [Shows off his skills] What’s that? The opposite of maladroit Why did you send the Flood over the earth\~ I pressed the wrong button. [Teases me] That is absurd. There were no buttons then Not even on coats? [Pretends to be ignorant] Well you should know I don’t like little details in my creatiity [ Thinks he is superior] Come on, tell me whatever comes to mind I like playing with water and fire as well [ Melanie Klein come here] You tell me It’s such fun [ emotionally stunted] Like War? It was not so bad to start with { always an excuse…. lacking in adult responsibility] What, even Cain and Abel? Very sad but it’s just a story [ Derrida,Levinas, Enid Blyton] Don’t tell me you are a post modernist I can be what I want , for fun you know [ repeats himself] I didn’t know God has fun Well you do now [ Humour]
Right that is £120
What, you think I should pay? [ feels superior] I have to live,Lord.I have a family [ childish plea] So did I once [Sarcasm and grief] Well, any alternative? I’ll give you an indulgence/ How about Martin Luther? Should he have one? Why not, he’s just human like you. But Hitler? I retain the right to silence [ knows the law]
Well when you stop sulking make another appointment Can no-one help me? Don’t give up hope. Goodbye for now.
CBT embodies a specific view of painful emotions: that they’re primarily something to be eliminated, or made tolerable
Psychoanalysts contend that things are much more complicated. For one thing, psychological pain needs first not to be eliminated but understood. From this perspective, depression is less like a tumour and more like a stabbing pain in your abdomen: it’s telling you something, and you need to find out what. (No responsible GP would just pump you with painkillers and send you home.) And happiness – if such a thing is even achievable – is a much murkier matter. We don’t really know our own minds, and we often have powerful motives for keeping things that way. We see life through the lens of our earliest relationships, though we usually don’t realise it; we want contradictory things; and change is slow and hard. Our conscious minds are tiny iceberg-tips on the dark ocean of the unconscious – and you can’t truly explore that ocean by means of CBT’s simple, standardised, science-tested steps.
Letters: Feelings of powerlessness as a constant – as is often the case in one-to-one relationships – are the root of much mental distress
Read more
This viewpoint has much romantic appeal. But the analysts’ arguments fell on deaf ears so long as experiment after experiment seemed to confirm the superiority of CBT – which helps explain the shocked response to a study, published last May, that seemed to show CBT getting less and less effective, as a treatment for depression, over time.
Examining scores of earlier experimental trials, two researchers from Norway concluded that its effect size – a technical measure of its usefulness – had fallen by half since 1977. (In the unlikely event that this trend were to persist, it could be entirely useless in a few decades.) Had CBT somehow benefited from a kind of placebo effect all along, effective only so long as people believed it was a miracle cure?
Psychoanalysts contend that for one thing, psychological pain needs first not to be eliminated, but understood
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Mary was on a step ladder in the bathroom spying on her husband Stan,through a hole in the wall…which he had drilled for spying on women sunbathing nude in their back gardens. Although I would have been there for 30 years he had not yet seen a nude woman. To her surprise she saw husband was climbing over the fence with Emile, their cat on his shoulder.
I think it’s ridiculous, she muttered . Surely Emile, a cat, can jump over the fence by himself.
But Emile was very limp,she saw with horror He can’t be dead, she whispered to herself fearfully.She jumped down off the and hit her head on a tap… a dangerous event for a human with weak retinae or retinas Oh,my! That hurt…I’d better be careful.She flew down stairs and met Stan in to the kitchen Emile has got concussion, Stan said unhappily Is he not dead,she wondered anxiously. No, he only fell off Annie’s roof.I am sure he’ll come to. Good Lord.What made him go up there and more important,how did he manage it manage to climb up? You’d better ring 999,he informed her graciously yet boldly
If you say so ,my dear.I’d do anything you ask.. Don’t put on that act! he said wantonly I mean it. A bit too late now. What do you mean? After 40 years with your mind on Wittgenstein,Dirac,Pascal and Kierkegaard,do you think I don’t know you made a mistake marrying me But whoever I married,I’d have read those same writers… Umphh,said Stan dolefully. Just then Dave,the bisexual transvestite paramedic ran in. Poor Emile,what have you done? He fell off Annie’s roof, but we have no theory as to how he got there,said Stan. Well, there’s no need to think of that… deal with reality.That’s my modus operandi! He gave Emile the kiss of life.
Emile came to…but was not pleased Why did you waken me up?I was having a lovely dream of walking down a silver path where I saw a big cat with shining fur and tender eyes looking at me.He just began to miaow when some fecking idiot woke me up… was he God? I can’t say,Emile,dear.But please do not swear. I’ll do whatever I fecking well feel like,he said. Good heavens, what has happened.Has he been reading dirty books? No, he was watching East Enders on TV… they all use the f word constantly. Well,Emile.God will have to wait… he’ll be glad if you do some kind work here on earth. Up yours,said Emile.I am sick of living here.I’ve been hoping for years Stan would mate with Annie but he has only managed a kiss. Perhaps it was the kiss of life,said Mary hopefully as it pained her to think Stan no longer desired her. Well, in a sense,you might have hit the snail on the bed said Stan thoughtfully.I know any further mention of philosophy will drive me mad! Now,Dave said,shall I make you some tea? Thank you Stan responded.I am half crazed already.Tea may save my sanity.But for what? Annie came in Did you know Emile was in a hot air balloon,she said in tones of wonder.How has he got down so fast? I fecking well fell out,the cat yawned proudly.Then I had a near death experience until this loon here brought me round. Emile,I’ve never heard you swear before! she whispered in a strange manner reminiscent of almost silent films starring unnames and forgotten beauties of long ago. Do you like it,baby? Emile asked. No I don’t. I’ve never said Feck in all my life. Well you have now,the cat informed her with a naughty smile. I think he’s possessed by demons.We’ll have to have him exorcised. But I like demons,Emile bawled .I’ve been good all my life and I am bored and depressed. So you believe swearing will help more than therapy? Emile got up and lit a cigarette nonchalantly with a certain ,je ne sais pas. Good grief,he’ll be having sex on the sofa next said Stan. What a good idea,said Emile, but I want my own room and an en suite..I mean to impress the next girl friend I have. Dave drank some tea and watched these old folk ponder. I am wondering where we went wrong,said Mary.All these years we’ve educate you privately and even had you baptised. Well.I am going to be a Jew,said Emile. I don’t think a cat can be a Jew… and you never ever had any interest in the spiritual before,why this? Well,when I was unconscious I realised that God exists…. But why a Jew? Well,they were the first to see God in a Burning Bush.. And the last too, thought Annie nervously. Well,said Stan.You want to smoke,swear ,make love and possibly enjoy wine and song.Is that not enough? Does God smoke and swear? There was a long silence and Emile answered Well,you see,Yes he does. I’m off said Dave.I have to ring the Pope. Why? asked Emile.I’m not going be a Catholic…. Well,said Dave,he ought to know that God is a cat.
On Monday morning Stan had to go to the shops in the centre of town to buy some special easy threading needles for his visually-other wife Mary.Somehow,most puzzlingly,she had lost all of the eight packs he had bought for her in the last year.He had suggested letting his mistress next door do the hemming and stitching.But Mary was determined even though sometimes she took 14 minutes just to thread a needle.But she was very patient.One might almost say she was saintly but he did not want her to get conceited so he kept his thoughts to himself. Now what will I wear.Stan thought over-anxiously.. People no longer dress up to go down town instead they dress down to go up to the town,in a very real sense. The art of living is to choose the most simple solution to any problem and Stan recalled he only had some navy trousers,some white and a few coloured shirts and one light teal colored jacket. He chose a coral coloured shirt and looked in the mirror.. I look wonderful, he thought very humbly. Why has God kept me so youthful? Surely not so I can seduce more women? We know God may be merciful to scissors,or is it sinners?Well,let’s just say God can be merciful but for some reason,we never know till it’s too late whether it’s to us. More haste,less speed,he conjectured. Or is it, More paste,guests feed? He stood in the hall combing his hair with a tortoiseshell comb and brushing it with a large nail brush He looked again at his image. His amber eyes glowed like neon lights on the main road to Knittingham in winter. His dark hair looked very full for his age. His teal jacket had been well pressed by the dry cleaner, Jacob Weissmann. And his coral shirt was new as Mary had been out buying him more clothes lately.She had grown tired of seeing him in one solid color,especially grey or brown. His navy trousers were a bit old but quite alright for Knittingham. As he gazed into the mirror he began to feel odd.Then he saw Emile who was standing on the chest of drawers behind him performing a dance.. solo! Why are you dancing,Emile? Stan asked politely. I am amused by seeing you gazing into the mirror for so long, If you don’t hurry it will be lunchtime before you get to the Needle Shop. Alright,growled Stan hoarsely.At least I don’t wear make up! Now there’s a thought…maybe I’d look better…what shade of foundation would suit me?Would I need lip balm and perfume? Hurry up,said Emile unkindly.More taste less greed. What does that mean?asked Stan. If you taste the food and eat slowly you will enjoy it more and thus need less. Very clever,Emile.Shall I buy you some cough sweets in the pet shop. No,I want some codeine linctus,Emile answered. I want to go high,high. I want to reach the sky. what will I do when my love is away Will I be happy on my own? Lend me your ear and I’ll sing you a song I’ll try not to sing out of tune! My God,Emile.Whatever has happened to you? I blame the old chalk and opium medicine someone spilled on my breakfast. Well,go and lie down but drink some milk first.At last Stan got out…it had taken him two hours to get ready At the bus stop there stood Anne their neighbour. Hi,Stan,where are you going. I’m buying sewing needles for Mary. I can lend her some,she shrieked. Well,she has to use special ones nowadays. Oh,so she does.I forget as she looks normal but is in fact suffering constant trouble since her Vitreous-vasectomy.. or was it hysterectomy or vivacity?. Well,never mind.You know she’s not normal. Who is normal? Let’s just assume we will recognize it when we see it,he whispered warningly. This bus is very late.I wish there was a proper seat here..my knees hurt. I hate this plastic seat.Why has the wooden one gone? Apparently the council are afraid of homeless people sleeping on them. Well,everybody is at risk of homelessness with this economic crisis, Anne shouted in a fury. No,beggars can’t be losers,he responded. Very true,she replied, As they have nothing so they can’t lose it.The more you have,the more you fear losing it. This bus is very,very late,I wish I had a horse or is it an horse? A goat would be o.k.Speed bonny goat like a word someone flung.. Over the page to Fly.Anne burst out laughing so her face was as red as her coat from Artigiano.Her blue tights were a perfect contrast and also matched her lipstick uncannily.Where she bought it was a mystery. At last the bus came.They got on board and the driver called out, You both look very merry! Too many looks create more wrath,Stan replied warningly. Well, why dress up if you want no attention.the driver gloated. Hello,darling, he said to Anne,Are you free tonight,babe? Why? she murmured. I have two tickets for the Rolling Stones and no woman to take! he replied boastfully. Now,if it were the Rolling Bones,I might be interested. Your wish is my command he muttered, I have my smart phone here,I’ll see what’s one elsewhere. He kept trying but the virtual keyboard was playing up again. Eventually the passengers got annoyed and asked him to start the bus. As I’m half an hour late,I should be coming back now so I’ll do a U turn and go back But we want to go into town,every one howled. There’s many a blue word spoken as a jest,sang the driver. Stan said,Please open the door,we shall dismount here. Crikey,you don’t half talk posh,said the ,driver. He leaned over and gave Anne a French kiss. Now look here,Stan said,leave her alone.She’s my mistress. Cor blimey said the driver,who are you,King Henry the Eighth? I say,Stan,I can see Mary.It must be tea time. Stan ran into the house and put the kettle on..then he made a pot of tea. Hello! said Mary. Did you get my needles,Stan? I’m so sorry,Mary.I ‘ve had such a busy day,I never got into the town. And where is my supper. In the womb of time I see,it’s chick pea dahl and brown rice again or egg on toast. But I’m not complaining.Keeping house is a big job.I know it only to well. So they sat with Anne and Emile,who even had his own cup and saucer now.They were weary and soon ,despite the tea, they were all fast asleep. Like you.
Doctor,I think my husband has something wrong with him.
Thank God, I thought he was dead!
Doctor I think I’m going deaf
What?
Doctor,I have a pain in my bed
Oh,do stop moaning; get a different bed
Why do I have bad feet doctor?
You’ve got the wrong sort of ethics
Doctor,my head feels strange. .
Can’t you just laugh it off?
Doctor,where is the receptionist?
She’s at a reception.
Doctor,you look worn out.
I shall take two aspirin and see myself in the morning.
If you can’t see yourself in the morning then things are serious indeed
But will anybody else be able to see you in the morning?
Doctor I thought I saw a rat.
It’s your imitation fur bedroom slipper.
Why do my shoulders ache at night?
Forgotten to take you hydroxychloroquine? Try sprinkling a little rat poison on your food instead. That will definitely weaken your immune system but as long as it doesn’t kill you we doctors are happy to give it to you. Because it will cure your rheumatoid arthritis m,my dear
When Mary opened the door she found a large marmalade Maine coon cat asleep on her porch I’m surprised that the scent of Emile has not deterred this marmalade cat from taking up residence on the porch in the early morning sunshinezl she melurmured to herself
The cat opened his yellow eyes and glared angrily at Mary.
Alright then be so horrible if you want to be she cried out almost silently in an angry whisper
My goodness I must be getting cognitive decline to speak to a cat like that she thought to herself. I had better not tell Annie or she will be worried that I might say something like that to a human being
She left the door open and went into the kitchen to make some tea and then she noticed that the cat was walking through the front door into the hall walking on her new blue shaggy wool carpet. She could not ask him to take his shoes off as cats don’t normally wear shoes. Would a cat wear slippers if requested? Perhaps she could start a shop selling slippers for cats but then when we have to think about the claws. The problems that women have to deal with now or so enormous it’s a wonder we manage to do anything at all
Hello, she said, what do you want?
That’s not very friendly, said the cat. My name is Francisco and I live next door to you. I’ve only been there for a week and I don’t like it but I thought that you’ve got a very nice cat and so I wondered if I could come and spend some time here?
Of course you can send Mary. Would you like some tea on a saucer?
Yes replied the orange cat, and by the way my name is Marco. Changed your name already?
Marco began to drink the tea when suddenly Emile came in from the back garden through his cat flap
Is this orange cat a visitor mother he called out to Mary.
How many times do I have to tell you that I am not your mother Mary told him sincerely with a toxic severity.
It depends on whether you’re taking it literally or metaphorically Emile called out affectionately
Well well said Marco I like you Emile you sound very intelligent.
I am living next door but the people are dull and boring.
We don’t know them said Mary because they’ve been living there for a few months but they’ve not been round and when we went to welcome them they didn’t answer the door
Perhaps they’ve got social phobia Marco said.It’s not unusual now; men and women can earn a living online without leaving the house at all and they can have their groceries delivered and so on so it’s easier for them to live with their neurosis than it would have been 40 years ago
You can only cure your phobia when your desire to go somewhere or your need to earn money it’s so powerful that you are impelled to leave the house and travel while taking your fear with you in a small bag or even a very large bag depending on how afraid you are.
For example one of my friends wanted to go to Compendium bookshop in Camden town.
She was so keen to go there that she traveled for more than one hour on a bus to do it and she was rewarded by finding the novels of Carol Shields before they were published in this country. Because that bookshop imported them from North America.
After she made the journey 10 times she began to feel less frightened and eventually she lost her fear altogether. Probably somewhere in Camden town!
That’s very interesting the two cats said in unison
Then they both ran out into the garden while mewing and purring simultaneously
Mary sat down on her kitchen chair and thoughts about what Stan her late husband would have said about the advent of another cat. So she didn’t need to feed the marmalade coloured arrival. He would get fed in his own home and he would just come to her when he wanted some tea or possibly coffee although I’ve never seen a cat drinking coffee yet she thought to herself
Suddenly the doorbell rang and in ran Dave the paramedic. Mary had not seen him for a long time.
He was wearing a beautiful green dress covered in impressions of shapes of leaves and flowers
Is that you your new uniform Mary asked him punctiliously?
No I’m not working today so I thought I would call in because I’m not seeing you for a long time. Does this mean that you’re no longer need the emergency services?
Well you might just have thought so but no I’ve got an extra cat coming in here it’s possible that he might need the emergency services because he’s living next door with two withdrawn isolated technophiles and he is very unhappy.
Well who do you want to help the cat or the people Dave asked her thoughtfully?
I think at the moment we’ll just stick to the cat.
Here you are Dave have a cup of tea it’s nice to see you again after so long and I’m sure I’ll soon be needing to ring 999 I can feel my bladder contracting already at the prospect of another attack of cystitis.
Please don’t get that just to keep me in employment Dave shouted nervously.
I would prefer it if you were well and if I just came in to you socialy to show you my new clothing and to see whether you would like a dress like this?
Oh well that’s very nice of you Mary told him surreptitiously and wildly
I wish that Stan were here. He was always delighted to see you and he was very glad that you were there with him at the end
Yes it was a privilege said Dave. I always remember the last thing he said
Th is my goodbye and thank you after almost two years of writing my Times poetry column. I have loved reading the piles of poetry books – thank you to all the publishers who sent them; I have also loved reading your e-mails and letters. You demonstrated how a poem in the column could go off and have another life; comments, discussions and readers’ poems abounded. And I have loved writing about the poems, trying to relate them to our hopes and anxieties as human beings in my belief that there is a poem for everyone – even a trucker on the M1 who reads nothing more challenging than his sat-nav. Because to say “I don’t like poetry” is like saying “I don’t like music”. It’s a case
If it form the one landscape that we, the inconstant ones, Are consistently homesick for, this is chiefly Because it dissolves in water. Mark these rounded slopes With their surface fragrance of thyme and, beneath, A secret system of caves and conduits; hear the springs…..
Read more using the link above
Poets need to know a lot about the world from limestone to The Great wall of China and from a baby in a pram to kings and dictators
From a priest to a Pope….
How can you see the world afresh if you have never seen it in the first place?
Dear Ron I’m writing to you now as I had no time at Xmas with Mary wanting shopping and Emile having measles again. I I’m glad we don’t live in the USA because they might say that cats can’t catch measles.
Since Christmas life has calmed down a little.We had a party last week which went well,I believe though,don’t tell anyone,I had my mistress here doing the drinks!
I know I’m 98 but I still love women. Mary has been a good wife but she’s not glamorous enough for me.She wears a twinset and flowered skirt from Artigiano but she will have a pen clipped to the front neck, her mobile in her 46H bra and a pair of pliers hanging from her belt and as well as that her nails are rough. What puzzles me is, and again,keep this secret, when we married she was as flat as a pancake yet she’s now got a front like the prow of a ship. I guess the ample cleavage is appealing to some men but I prefer skinny women…She blames me as she never ate until we married and she got the Jewish Cookery Book…
God knows why as she was a Catholic then [but they have no cookbook].This book haseverything,cheesecakes,sponge cakes,puddings,meat loaves and we have eaten all of it. I wonder why I am still thin and she is so fat when she rides a bike to work and I drive the car….scientists don’t seem to know. Still,I have my mistress who is quite slender and Mary seems to be elsewhere mentally…She reads Philosophy in bed.Is it my fault?I am so old I can’t change… but can she?I don’t mind her doing maths but I wish she wore a pearl satin nightie with lace all over it and some perfume… she smells of bike oil and Algipan heat rub.No wonder we never have any sex life now .
Do you think maybe I should wear a nightie like that and see how she reacts?Have you ever done anything like that?We could have a chat on the phone.
It’s not so much the sex,it’s the cuddling I like and whispering in her ears.Too late as she probably is reading a manual for her camera and checking the screwdrivers and the files. She has even stolen my camera…nary a word. Still,there we go…life is hard.
Emile had a very bad bout of measles and I kept him in for 3 weeks resting in a box.I wonder if he will catch chickenpox,I find him a worry though he is funny too and can swim!He is very rare. I fear owing to the cat etc I have no real news.But I’d love to hear yours and remember,don’t tell anybody what I have confided in you.I hope we can meet in the Spring time Till then,keep well. Adios amigo Your friend Stan ps I must tell you about Satan next time,you won’t believe it
The reply
Dear Stan I am answering your letter immediately as I am very irate about your behaviour. Muriel ran away with an artist but it was all above board; we had none of this deception.Can’t you speak to Mary?She seems quite charming to me.And your fantasies of wearing silk nightdresses seem odd in a man of your age…By all means try it if it will help your marriage.Will Mary wear her tigerprint house dress?I loved it.In fact I’ve been in love with Mary for many years but backed off on moral grounds but if you are consorting with Satan and this female neighbour,I feel I ought to help poor Mary…if you divorce her.. let me know! Why does she carry pliers in her belt?Is she afraid of being attacked?As for her size,she does have a severe thryroid problem and that can play havoc with the weight. Most men would be delighted to be engulfed in her delightful bosom and to kiss her plump yet elegant neck and to embrace her with love and passion.
Apart from Xmas,the old dog Gip died and Sally has had twins so Muriel is up from St Ives.I miss her but no longer so painfully and we want to be there for Sally and Ben.He’s only two and Malcolm travels so Ben will be quite hard hit by the twins coming. So I see myself being a helping grandad doing manly things with him.I’ll soon have him changing fuses and backing up his laptop.I may even show him how to make plum wine in the autumn.Sally is breastfeading Jill and Milly so she’ll get tired out. Has your Lyra never got married?That would occupy you.Emile is sweet but he is in fact just a cat. Can you not go to the pub like other men?Play darts or gamble,smoke cigars and discuss politics… Leave that neighbour alone or I shall swoop down to protect Mary like a giant owl on LSD.I’ll kill you.
We had a roast goose for Xmas.It’s now recovered as it was only half cooked and I’ve dug a pond for it.I am mating it in the spring,I hope.. where do I buy a female goose?I am fond of goslings Now,just heed my words or I shall be very irate
The heart that touched my heart I feel no more Alone in some great space. I feel afraid Like a conductor who has lost the Score The soul that touched my soul I feel no more As other orders that soul did obey The heart that touched my heart I feel no more Alone in the abyss. I feel afraid
Love is not one single thing, in distinguishing attachment from concern. I see that there is room for loving-kindness, wanting the best for someone, without being attached to them, unable to let go. There is a way to accept mortality in which there
I thought I would try writing a poem which rhymes the same throughout. Well it is possible but I don’t think it’s successful I think you need at least two different rhymes to make the poem work so I shant do it again especially as there are a lot of words which have that many rhymes unless you’re very very skillful thinking of esoteric words and I dont that’s what poetry is about
Cleaner required for short sighted woman and cat.Well prayed daily Aroused by any other meme, brains weep Do they MOT easily? Abandon lips.Suck toes How about eggs? About menace,I don’t feel it. But do you see it. Above, what Lord? God Anti-wrench mends sprained wheels easily How about ankles? […]
How my heart sings 