For the last three years,I have had the problem of what to wear at night.Because inevitably someone will ring the doorbell before I dress.As I get my shopping online I don’t want to miss this and pay £10 for a cab to some sorting office.
In fact, have we ever thought about what and why we wear certain things  in bed?
Before washing machines, we didn’t want our day clothes ruined by sleeping in them but that is what we might do now.Though ironing would get problematic, unless all people in the house do their own.
And we don’t want to be too hot.So wearing a dressing gown is perhaps not wise.
I tend to feel cold unless it’s 80 deg F.So I tried out wearing two nightdresses at once.Perfectly warm for reading and more opaque than Cherie Blair’s on her first morning in Downing St.However no one rang the bell.In any case I am cutting back on newspapers,  clothes etc so apart from getting some wonderful but small lobster claw extension chains so my necklaces are not strangling me I am not buying anything at all for myself.I like mending things so I have now got a  silver chain with two tiny torches on it hanging round my neck.I find them good for reading the instructions on packages.And if the power goes off then I am ok till I get a big torch out.
You can buy  packs of little torches and also tiny magnifying glasses.Less heavy to carry a little magnifying glass in the bag.Mine is heavy anyway with various emergency items.I can hardly post a letter without taking some with me just to cross the road.
I have stopped sending holiday postcards.But begun sending postcards of my own town with its ancient church and remains of palaces and old walls and gardens.
I like to get cards and letters but it is rare now.I like handwriting.I like guessing who it might be.I am not wearing a pen around my neck or a Tablet.I won’t be able to stand up if I do that.Why should I want one anyway?
Now.did you see the Stores are selling “modest” clothes for women? I shall be glad when leggings and crop tops disappear from the High Street especially beige or pale pink leggings which make women look almost nude as they potter in the town.Under-dressing? It might be because it’s a cheap style and many people are hard up.But dark leggings are much more flattering.Even old disabled men like my older brother are a bit disturbed by these visions.If I were him, I’d be glad.Not dead yet.

Digital  image by Katherine

https://www.wired.com/2010/10/feeling-sad-makes-us-more-creative/

Extract:

Why does a melancholy mood turn us into a better artist? The answer returns us to the intertwined nature of emotion and cognition. It turns out that states of sadness make us more attentive and detail oriented, more focused on the felt collage. Joe Forgas, a social psychologist at the University of New South Wales in Australia, has spent the last decade investigating the surprising benefits of negative moods. According to Forgas, angst and sadness promote “information-processing strategies best suited to dealing with more-demanding situations.” This helps explain why test subjects who are melancholy – Forgas induces the mood with a short film about death and cancer – are better at judging the accuracy of rumors and recalling past events; they’re also much less likely to stereotype strangers and make fewer arithmetic mistakes.

 

If only we could have peace on earth but we are descended from the most aggressive primates… why many of them were sadomasochists.Well, some were sadists and the rest were masochists I gather.The ones who weren’t died out as they never mated.

This is the first line
Of the poem I wanted to write
After you smiled
But I never wrote it
I didn’t understand what was happening
I didn’t understand
Anything
But remember someone loved me
Called for me
Howled for me
And I went
And now I am all alone
And I can’t call for you
Yet we were in a dream last night
Together
But you were silent

https://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/article.php?

On May 13, 1939, the German transatlantic liner St. Louis sailed from Hamburg, Germany, for Havana, Cuba. On the voyage were 937 passengers. Almost all were Jews fleeing from the Third Reich. Most were German citizens, some were from eastern Europe, and a few were officially “stateless.”

The majority of the Jewish passengers had applied for US visas, and had planned to stay in Cuba only until they could enter the United States. But by the time the St. Louis sailed, there were signs that political conditions in Cuba might keep the passengers from landing there. The US State Department in Washington, the US consulate in Havana, some Jewish organizations, and refugee agencies were all aware of the situation. The passengers themselves were not informed; most were compelled to return to Europe.

Since the Kristallnacht (literally the “Night of Crystal,” more commonly known as the “Night of Broken Glass”) pogrom of November 9–10, 1938, the German government had sought to accelerate the pace of forced Jewish emigration. The German Foreign Office and the Propaganda Ministry also hoped to exploit the unwillingness of other nations to admit large numbers of Jewish refugees to justify the Nazi regime’s anti-Jewish goals and policies both domestically in Germany and in the world at large.

This person keeps saying she wants to commit suicide.So I said to her, first you need to buy a Tablet

Will one be enough, she asked in surprise?

Yes,buy a Kindle Fire Refurbished

She said, what does refurbished mean?

So I said,someone has used it but Amazon have cleaned it up

She said, you expect me to take a tablet someone else has already used? I might catch a bug from it.How did Amazon get hold of it?

I expect the relatives sent it back!

Good grief,how many people can one tablet kill?

I said, wait till you see it and then you’ll get to learn a lot of different things

I don’t want to learn anything.

But you asked me how to commit suicide

I just don’t believe one will be enough

Ask for the 10 inch one

It won’t go down my throat.I will choke

There you are, you’ve found your own solution

I think I’ll stay alive.

Tablets, love them, hate them but never mate with the,

digital art by Katherine

The reality of the stupid things phone 999 for is funnier than these manufactured jokes

https://www.callcentrehelper.com/more-call-centre-jokes-155.htm

WordPerfect Customer Service Joke

This is rather an old one, that has been around for a few years, but is one of my personal favourite jokes.
Tech: “Ridge Hall computer assistant; may I help you?”
Customer: “Yes, well, I’m having trouble with WordPerfect.”
Tech: “What sort of trouble?”
Customer: “Well, I was just typing along, and all of a sudden the words went away.”
Tech: “Went away?”
Customer: “They disappeared.”
Tech: “Hmm. So what does your screen look like now?”
Customer: “Nothing.”
Tech: “Nothing?”
Customer: “It’s blank; it won’t accept anything when I type.”
Tech: “Are you still in WordPerfect, or did you get out?”
Customer: “How do I tell?”
Tech: “Can you see the “C” prompt on the screen?”
Customer: “What’s a sea-prompt?”
Tech: “Never mind. Can you move the cursor around on the screen?”
Customer: “There isn’t any cursor: I told you, it won’t accept anything I type.”
Tech: “Does your monitor have a power indicator?”
Customer: “What’s a monitor?”
Tech: “It’s the thing with the screen on it that looks like a TV. Does it have a little light that tells you when it’s on?”
Customer: “I don’t know.”
Tech: “Well, then look on the back of the monitor and find where the power cord goes into it. Can you see that?”
Customer: “…Yes, I think so.”
Tech: “Great! Follow the cord to the plug, and tell me if it’s plugged into the wall.”
Customer: “…Yes, it is.”
Tech: “When you were behind the monitor, did you notice that there were two cables plugged into the back of it, not just one?”
Customer: “No.”
Tech: “Well, there are. I need you to look back there again and find the other cable.”
Customer: “…Okay, here it is.”
Tech: “Follow it for me, and tell me if it’s plugged securely into the back of your computer.”
Customer: “I can’t reach.”
Tech: “Uh huh. Well, can you see if it is?”
Customer: “No.”
Tech: “Even if you maybe put your knee on something and lean way over?”
Customer: “Oh, it’s not because I don’t have the right angle-it’s because it’s dark.”
Tech: “Dark?”
Customer: “Yes-the office light is off, and the only light I have is coming in from the window.”
Tech: “Well, turn on the office light then.”
Customer: “I can’t.”
Tech: “No? Why not?”
Customer: “Because there’s a power outage.”
Tech: “A power… a power outage? Aha! Okay, we’ve got it licked now. Do you still have the boxes and manuals and packing stuff your computer came in?”
Customer: “Well, yes, I keep them in the closet.”
Tech: “Good! Go get them, and unplug your system and pack it up just like it was when you got it. Then take it back to the store you bought it from.”
Customer: “Really? Is it that bad?”
Tech: “Yes, I’m afraid it is.”
Customer: “Well, all right then, I suppose. What do I tell them?”
Tech: “Tell them you’re too stupid to own a computer.”
——————–

My new coat is described as wool rich
21%…I’ll not itch
It’s mostly man-made fibres
Unlike Lady Godiva’s.
I paid £99 for a stitch.

Years back, we were told silk and wool
Would be no longer here,so I mulled
I decided on plastic
And cardboard domestic
For in Hull there will be no pure wool

Yet lamb is still sold with the meat
So their mothers must be sad as they bleat~
Have their fleeces now been tampered with
Or the farmers been hampered with,
Losing the skill to shear sheep

So if there’s a heat-wave next year
The sheep will be hot,so I fear
Imagine your winter coat
Gripped round your hot flushed throat
As you sit by the Thames swigging beer.

Or if you should walk on cliffs sheer,
Near Dover, they are white,So one hears
Don’t pet a sheep or ram
They are more fierce than men
They may push you off and then leer

So you would drop into a ship
Full of illegal white chaps
They may be from Poland
They may be old Romans
I say, are your rightly equipped?

Suppose that the ship is on its way
To France or to Russia,oh hey
Remember what the Jews went through
As their ship was not permitted to
Dock, so as grey smoke these Jews blew.

And if the wind came from the East
All of us here and our beasts
Would have taken in the gays and Jews
Gypsies as well abused
So don’t take deep breaths when you feast

http://www.scotsman.com/lifestyle/culture/books/book-review-marion-milner-the-life-by-emma-letley-1-3008515?utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter

What she knew was how to write about joy. She knew about moments when what you sense is suddenly vivid and full of energy: looking out at a tree, perhaps, and in that moment discovering a response in your whole being, in body as well as mind. Travelling, she had a brilliant eye, but it was for the “wide, unfocused stare”, not the “narrow, deliberative concentration”; she goes out after rare orchids and stops in wonder at the white blossoms of a whole hill of wild garlic. Falling in love was her model for such moments, “images with a ‘still glow’”. She wanted to get past the cant idea that the unconscious mind is a kind of dustbin of the soul where everything is shameful, and to reconnect mind with body. She’s the useful version of fashionable talk about consciousness because she knows writer’s block but she also knows the moments when you put away intellect and let the mind go as it wants; when the block breaks. She thought creativity, whatever its form, was the whole point of being human. You may not know Marion Milner, but you will be glad when you do.ost cutting insults
Read more at: http://www.scotsman.com/lifestyle/culture/books/book-review-marion-milner-the-life-by-emma-letley-1-3008515?utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter

https://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/3440/margaret-drabble-the-art-of-fiction-no-70-margaret-drabble

” I don’t like placing other writers much and avoid the temptation to do so when asked, though I don’t mind admitting my immense admiration for Angus Wilson, Saul Bellow, and Doris Lessing.
INTERVIEWER
I know you’ve done your share of interviewing. What is the first question you ask someone?
DRABBLE
Oh dear. I never know how to begin. I find it to be a very difficult job, actually. I’m rather a bad interviewer because I never ask people things that they don’t want to be asked. As soon as they look annoyed or nervous, I never persist.
INTERVIEWER
I read your interview with Doris Lessing and I thought that many of the things that came out of it could have been said about you as well. You quote her as saying, “In writing novels, we bring into being what we need to be.” Can you comment on that?
DRABBLE
In a sense, the fiction creates the reality, but it’s a very complicated relationship. I think if you imagine a certain kind of person, then that person comes into being. You become that person. Or at least this kind of person becomes a possibility. But you have to be careful what you imagine, because the act of imagining is the act of encouraging yourself to be a certain kind of person. The fact of going in a certain direction has something to do with what you imagine as good or proper for yourself.
INTERVIEWER
But it also seems to me, that as far as you’re concerned, the kind of person you are has as much to do with fate or accident as it does with self-creation.
DRABBLE
This is what is so interesting about life: choosing to be something and being struck down while you do it by a falling brick. The whole question of free will and choice and determinism is inevitably interesting to a novelist. Perhaps I go on about it more than some. Are your characters puppets in the hands of fate or are they really able to make free choices? I think we have a very small area of free choice.”

https://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/6223/michael-holroyd-the-art-of-biography-no-3-michael-holroyd

“I’ve always believed that there’s no such thing as a definitive biography and, particularly if you write about writers, that you are offering your subject the opportunity to write one more book, posthumously, of course, and in collaboration with you. Even if you and I were writing about the same subject, and even if our research were identical, we would produce different books. The dates and so on would be the same, but some themes would seem important to you and insignificant to me.
INTERVIEWER
You have written that you have “traded somewhat in invisibility as a biographer.”
HOLROYD
I believe that we are there between the lines, but most readers are not particularly aware of us.
INTERVIEWER
Are there subjects you considered but didn’t pursue?
HOLROYD
I thought a long time ago that Katherine Mansfield was a good subject. And I was asked to do one or two other books—Pamela Hansford Johnson, Stephen Spender—but I was always in the middle of something else. I was also asked to do a life of Jacqueline du Pré, whom I met, but I wasn’t competent to do it.
INTERVIEWER
Because you felt you didn’t know enough about music?
HOLROYD
Yes. It would have been interesting—in a way my subjects have been the tutors I never had, because I didn’t go to university. So I would have learned a lot. But it was difficult, too, because she was alive, and she suggested how I should do it, and I thought, This won’t work. I think it’s important to keep a distance from the person you’re trying to get close to.”

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44367/love-iii

BY GEORGE HERBERT

Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lacked any thing.

A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?

Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.
Source: George Herbert and the Seventeenth-Century Religious Poets (W. W. Norton and Company, Inc., 1978)

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/mar/17/george-herbert-poetry-faith-vocation

The poem takes its title from the parable of a perfect pearl hidden in a field: a man finds it, and goes and sells everything he has so that he can buy the field and own the pearl. In the final verse, Herbert uses this metaphor of buying and selling to great effect, making it clear that he went into the bargain of ordination with his eyes open:

“I fly to thee, and fully understand / Both the main sale, and the commodities.”

Pray Father, give me your guessing.

My guessing!Don’t you mean my blessing?

Oh, probably.Possibly..who knows.

So have you any sins to tell me?

Yes, I broke a glass jug.

Whose was it?

It was mine, Father.

Surely it’s not a sin to break your own jug?

It is if you hit yourself on the head with it!

What made you do that?

I was angry with myself…I had been committing effrontery.

Do you mean adultery?Your main problem seems to be bad language.

No, Father I never say” F*ck”

You just did.

Well, I had to do.I had no choice!

That’s what they all say…if only I heard some original sin I’d find life more interesting.

Well, it’s hard to think of anything original to do especially if it has to be a sin too.

You are just not using your creativity.

All right Father, Put your hands up.i’ve got a gun.

Where did you find that?

In my wife’s handbag.

Now we are getting somewhere.. that’s threatening a priest, interfering in your wife’s privacy and stealing a gun.Any other sins?

I could shoot you, I suppose.

No.no!That is going too far.

Shall I slap you?

No… just say something rude to me.

Your sermons are the most boring I have ever heard.

Well, that’s enough…I’ve never been so insulted in my life.

You have been very lucky then… you should hear what people say to me!

Well, you are both ugly and unintelligent.I don’t know how you had the nerve to marry.

I had no choice.She forced me.But I gave in quickly in case she changed her mind.

And you have seven children.

No, they are not all mine. .And they are Jewish.How can they be Jewish?

My wife is Jewish!

I thought she was just a lapsed Catholic.

No, she’s Jewish but not even an arranged marriage could be arranged for her so she used her imagination and decided an overweight ugly Catholic would be grateful for her love.

And are you grateful?

Yes, and so are all her lovers!

Who are they?

The curate is one of them and has two children .. they look just like him too.

And does she want them raised as Jews?

She lets them rise naturally and go with the flow.

Do they have to wear hats?

Only in the Synagogue!

Are you Jewish too.

Yes,it’s quite handy as we have Sabbath on Saturday and then we have Sunday on Sunday if you see what I mean.

I never met anyone who practised two religions before.

Well,I figured it would double my chance of salvation!

Well. I must speak to the Rabbi.For your penance you must give £50 to Homeless at Xmas.

Am I absolved.

If you stay any longer you’ll be dissolved!

Thank you, Father.

And take that gun away.I don’t want it.

I can get you a good price for your cassock.

Why,thank you ,my child but I need it.

Well,Jesus had no cassock!

Well, he was a Jew…I am a Catholic.

Now,that makes me think.

Think what?

About the Vatican…

Let’s not go there,

Shalom

The garden’s now a Wood,where dwell three wolves
The maple red is now the president
And all the laws and rules have been devolved
For the sake of all the residents

This green country gives heart like mine no grief
For hidden are the houses standing near
And as the wolves dance, I watch with relief
As ants and beetles stand around and stare

For wolves are never seen in suburbs tame
And maples are at home in foreign lands
It may be that the satyrs play new games
And smuggle in some creatures contraband.

Let explanations die their long due death.
Let’s lose our minds and dance in happiness.

Advert

Why not eat breakfast now and sleep in your work clothes Free advice £990 cheques or cash or food [tinned]

Twenty Questions with Benjamin Ludwig, Writer

Stories were the most important thing in the world to me, growing up. Whether it was acting them out, reading them, or just telling stories with friends, that’s what I loved to do.

Which fictional character would you most like to meet?

I’d love to sit down and chat with the clown/fool from Twelfth Night. He’s one of my favorite characters.

Ankle grazers, are they men who love to gaze
Or kiss the ankles of the one for whom they long
Humans do have curious, little ways

I remember my own ankles praised.
But noone commemorated such in song
Ankle grazers,are they men who love to gaze

My early life seems covered in a haze
Except for when I thought I had done wrong
Humans all must suffer in their way.

See how Shakespeare great emotion plays
Even by the means of dance and song
Ankle grazers, are they men who gaze?

We need love to help us and amaze.
Our psyche’s sometimes stricken by its prongs
Humans each must find their destined way

One day Gabriel will strike the gong
And all the heavens will be filled with song
Ankles,faces, eyes and hearts arranged
Humans do have curious by the ways

All things grow with time — except grief. All things grow with time — except grief.. Jewish Proverb.

Read more: http://www.special-dictionary.com/proverbs/source/j/jewish_proverb/2.htm#ixzz4wdKPXink

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/dangerous-liaisons/

Her constant threats of suicide hurt me
For she need not seek attention by such means
I’ll offer soon to help her choose a tree!

I know how deep and awful grief can he
But every word and action tossed has been
Her constant threats of suicide hurt me.

Humans need each other, yet I flee.
She makes me feel her feelings are insane
I’ll offer soon to help her choose a tree.

I wish that I could aid her so she’d see
That sorrow is a part of love that’s been
Her constant threats of suicide hurt me.

She wants an answer, threatens with her scenes
Till I fell over backwards,now I’m mean
I’ll offer soon to help her choose a tree.

She feels her tongue has freedom to give pain.
She repeats once more her grief and her disdain
Her constant threats of suicide down me
I’ll offer soon to help her choose a tree

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.

The transcendental is not infinite and unattainable tasks, but the neighbour who is within reach in any given situation. (Letters, p 381)
Bonhoeffer

White trainers
Huge,red coat with huge red pockets over
Orange anorak with zipped inner pocket over
Metallic gold pleated skirt with no pockets
Top in deep purple with fluted sleeves and no pockets
Fishnet tights with secret waist pocket for your Tablet
Padded bra with pocket for smartphone[s] and wallet
Elastic garter with pocket for keys
Mini torch,biro and magnifying glass in velvet wrist bag
Wine coloured hat with inner pocket for reading glasses.
Messenger bag with pocket for Newspaper du jour.
Trolley for all your other must-haves like your ten cats

I worried about quicksands and escape
Sucked into the sands by giant lips
I forgot that ice is thin and easy breaks

Is worry wasting time and a mistake?
Yet we need to learn from other’s trips
I fretted over quicksands and escape

I fell through ice and now cold makes me ache
A trip, a trap, a tumble, we are stuck
I forgot that ice is thin and easy breaks

In ice cold water, how the brain can creak
No resources, internet or book.
I fretted over quicksands yet escaped

Feeling happy, I forgot to check.
I didn’t measure, neither did I look
I forgot that ice is thin, can crack and break

When we’re on Cloud 9 we are at risk
Not the sands but more the ice unzipped
I worried about quicksands and escape
I forgot that ice is thin, so easy breaks

I got married and my husband had never changed a light bulb but neither of us changed our minds
I got married so that it would be legal to iron a man’s underpants weekly.
I got married so I could pick cake crumbs out of the carpet as free exercise.
I only got married for sex as the forbidden would be a duty then.Still, it felt very sinful so that was ok.
I was so shy, my husband thought I was dumb until I cried,
Do it again,Sam.
Alas, he is called John.
Still, I was a very technical virgin who loved pulling the gas stove to pieces to see how it worked.One day I shall mend it but for now we live on fish and chips.
When you think about it,getting to know the opposite sex is very dangerous.
Getting to know anybody is dangerous but women don’t usually rape you while you are drunk or while you are sober either.Still ,worse than rape is emotional betrayal or spiritual invasion.
Not getting to know anyone will make us very isolated so on balance, get friend, lovers and partners as and when it is possible

The only safe way to live is to commit suicide then no-one can hurt you anymore.Is there a logical error there somewhere?
I think, take a cat or two to bed, have a baby by the usual or by artificial means and have hundreds of friends.Why limit yourself? I do and look where it’s got me.Nowhere

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/10/25/arts/design/art-age-of-terror-imperial-war-museum.html?ribbon-ad-idx=3&rref=world/europe&module=Ribbon&version=context&region=Header&action=click&contentCollection=Europe&pgtype=article

As an artist, Mr.Bridle is interested in the relationship between the digital and physical world, in how the former changes the way we think about the latter. “Drones are one of those technologies that seemed to go from science fiction to completely mundane without going through a critical-thinking stage,” he said. “It seemed to stand for so much: war, crime, violence and technology.” He has since realized versions of the work, called “Drone Shadow,” in locations from Washington to Istanbul.

The latest version of “Drone Shadow” falls across the atrium of the Imperial War Museum London as the first work in the exhibition “Age of Terror: Art Since 9/11.” Curated by Sanna Moore, the show explores how artists have responded to conflict since those calamitous events. Taking the attack on the World Trade Center as a cultural turning point, the exhibition “reflects on the continuing state of emergency we’ve been in and how the world has changed: mass surveillance, civil rights, detentions without trial,” Ms. Moore said.

The scale of “Age of Terror” — the largest contemporary art exhibition ever staged by the Imperial War Museum — reflects the increase in the number of artists responding to conflict in recent years, Ms. Moore said.

The show opens with works that respond directly to Sept. 11 before moving on to consider how the attacks have permeated daily life, in the United States and beyond. Some began in the immediate aftermath: Tony Oursler started filming the footage used in his work “9/11” in Lower Manhattan soon after the second plane hit. The piece “9/12 Front Page” by the German artist Hans-Peter Feldmann assembles 151 newspaper covers from around the world from the following day, many carrying the same photograph.

Wait on God,like waiting on a tide.
The moon exerts her pull with dignity
No human force can change how these seas ride.

We plead with God forever to abide!
Should we fear his great sagacity?
Wait on God as waiting for the tide.

Maybe it is his will which decides
Not ours to go there in audacity
No human force can change how these seas ride.

Do not mock and torment him we flayed
With no control over our temerity
Wait on God be patient towards the tides

When we suffer we obey our pride
Demand he save us from indignity
No human force can change how great seas ride

For a lover, life meets fantasy
How can we see our incapacity?
Wait on God,like waiting on a tide.
No human force can change the wild seas ride.

A mere mirage

My new-found hope may be a mere mirage;
An illusion of no help in my despair.
Yet imagination stirs up love and her courage
And helps the mind and heart in their repair.
I’ll dwell not in the mind’s relentless thoughts;
I’ll use my eyes and ears and skin
Then in that trap, I never shall be caught.
I’ll see and hear to moderate this din.
In wider focus, all will take their place
I’ll focus less on this wound I bear late
And see both good and bad in every space.
So not dismiss the world and all its states.
Changing vision shows us truer measures.
Perception valued brings to us much treasure.

Cut off from land by wiles of tricky sea,
For Norfolk is deceptive in its tides,
He grabbed my hand and said, just run with me

If we had drowned then now I would not be
In England where our shrill-voiced voters stride,
Cut off by hopes installed by trickery

Nor would I, by Donald vexed,fear, see
How he may ask the Good Lord to abide
He grabbed the votes and said, all lie with me

I shall not argue over cups of tea
About how many immigrants God made;
Cut off from thought by wiles of trickery

I believe that God has no pity
He created man to be a refugee
He gave no hope yet said,hey, worship me!

Oh, haunt of mystics send thy remedies
They’re drowning in the places we can’t see
Cut off from land by tides of your Son’s sea
The dark eyed children drown along with Thee.