The sun umbrella keeps the washing  dry
As dark clouds weep  onto this angry isle
The garden’s still and no birds want to fly

The summer sinks and autumn  enters wry.
The media  are full of truth and bile
The sun umbrella keeps the washing  dry

I sit and look and do not want to sigh
For there is beauty of another style
The garden’s still and no birds seem to fly

When bad things happen, people wonder why
Yet we are humans evil  hearts beguile.
The sun umbrella keeps the washing  dry

In  our temptations, envy seems to grow
Yet those we watch  may suffer even more.
The garden’s still and no birds seem to fly

The rules that kept us social have expired
And so we rage at others in our trial.
The sun umbrella keeps the powder  dry.
The gardens  dead  and no birds ever fly

 

 

 

Imagination and opinion are pre-eminently to be classed among the things which are within our power. There is a familiar adage: If we can’t get what we like, we must like what we have. The Stoics held the same view, though on a somewhat higher plane. Instead of lamenting because we cannot change our lot, let us learn to love it. Happiness and unhappiness are, to a great extent, matters of imagination and opinion. (Baudouin & Lestchinsky, 1924, p. 45)

” The following lines, written by Seneca, seem to be drawn from a modern treatise on psychotherapy: “Beware of aggravating your troubles yourself and of making your position worse by your complaints. Grief is light when opinion does not exaggerate it; and if one encourages one’s self by saying, ‘This is nothing,’ or, at least, ‘This is slight; let us try to endure it, for it will end,’ one makes one’s grief slight by reason of believing it such.” And, further: “One is only unfortunate in proportion as one believes one’s self so.”

Paul Dubois

Mary was at the dentist’s wearing her sea blue lightly padded coat and a pair of red boots.She looked down at herself and wondered why she had stopped wearing dull, dark clothing.She sat languidly in the waiting room sipping water from a machine nearby.
Suddenly the TV on the wall showed a picture of the Prime Minister holding Donald Trump’s hand.
Are they getting married, Mary wondered?
Theresa May stepped forward and said, My husband and I …. oh, sorry.I am calling a Genital Erection in June.
A man rushed forward and took Mrs May away before the News Reader informed the world that A General Election was to be held in June but the PM would not be debating about anything live on TV.
Thank God, for that Mary thought.Although she might say a few rude and thrilling words befoe being carried out;it would be less boring.After the Referendum most Britons were fed up with politics and all the arguments.
Mary said to the nurse: It would be my husband’s birthday tomorrow but he died two years ago.
The door had been opened and the doctor’s head receptionist was rushing in
It is not two years, she shouted at Mary.My husband died before yours.
I didn’t realise you wanted me to say it is one year 10 months and two weeks plus a few hours and minutes since he died, Mary informed her gently..She opened her green leather briefcase and took out a tape recorder
.Would you like to say it again, she continued.And maybe explain why it matters to you.After all it is not a competition.We might have shared our feelings and our sorrow instead of arguing.
Emile, Mary’s cat came into the room followed by Annie her late husband’s mistress.
Why are you here? Mary enquired gratefully.
Emile had a  premonition that someone might be rude to you and  he has sharpened his claws.As I have.
Indeed Annie’s nails were painted red and filed into  sharp points almost like a cat’s.
Well, this lady has been shouting at me but I don’t understand why she is angry that I had not calculated the number of minutes it is since Stan died.The receptionist looked very sad and rushed away.
Maybe she has nobody to talk to, Emile miaowed.She needs a cat but I am not moving to her house.I love where I am
Thank you , Emile, Annie said.Tears had come to her eyes thinking of the two widows confronting each other instead of comforting.Her green eyeshadow and eye cream ran at an acute angle down her cheeks as her head was on one side.
It was so beautiful, Mary took a photo of Annie with her Windows phone.
Where is that pink and green  mascara from, she asked
It is by Leibnitz and Newton of  Bury St Edmunds and Harris.
What, live nits ? Emile purred,
It’s German, Annie said.Is it “love not”?
Do they really make it in Harris? I don’t mean love I mean make up
Yes, it’s that green stuff that grows on rocks on the seashore.
Yes, the rocks can’t  roll so they do gather moss.
Can’t you get moss at home?
Maybe, but I like the chemist.He looks like Leonard Cohen.I loved him, you know
I am so sad he has died but he would not like the USA nowadays.He might get pushed off an aeroplane and have his nose broken.It’s a risk going over there now.Seems the cats are out of all the bags nowadays.
And so say all of us

I’ve got another UTI
Sometimes I feel I might die
The pain when I wee
Is not good for me
I’m so truthful I just have to lie.

My brain’s  muddled up like a ditch
I feel l  must look like a witch
The confusion’s amusin’
The cat loves allusion
But someone keeps queering my pitch.

 

I’ve had 37 Nitrofurantoin pills
But they don’t seem to cure that what ails.
I need something broader
And of a higher order.
UTI’s   try everyone’s will.

James 2:14-26New King James Version (NKJV)

Faith Without Works Is Dead

¹⁴ What does it profit, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can faith save him? ¹⁵ If a brother or sister is naked and destitute of daily food, ¹⁶ and one of you says to them, “Depart in peace, be warmed and filled,” but you do not give them the things which are needed for the body, what does it profit? ¹⁷ Thus also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.

¹⁸ But someone will say, “You have faith, and I have works.” Show me your faith without your^[a] works, and I will show you my faith by my^[b]works. ¹⁹ You believe that there is one God. You do well. Even the demons believe—and tremble! 

After reading some articles about how often women wash their clothes,it seems w might be  our own worst enemies.Just because we have washing machines we can wash our clothes every day.However that generates ironing.I shudder to think how much ironing a family of four would generate if they all have clean clothes every 1 or 2 days.Blouse,T shirts maybe.?Underwear,yes.But all the rest.Seems like burden to me.Let’s get more dirty.Don’t do excessive amounts of cleaning and washing,

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-3633664/How-REALLY-wash-clothes-Guide-reveals-number-times-dodge-laundry-basket-skirts-s-seven-wears.html

 

For one item I thought it said:Every 5 or 6 years

But it was wears!

 

Trousers and skirts: After five to seven wears

Parkas and vests: Two times a season [Vests must mean gilets]

Jackets and sweatshirts: After six to seven wears

Hats, gloves and scarves: Three to five times a season

Hosiery: After every wear

Jackets and blazers: After five to six wears

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-3633664/How-REALLY-wash-clothes-Guide-reveals-number-times-dodge-laundry-basket-skirts-s-seven-wears.html#ixzz4sMLOc4AK
Follow us: @MailOnline on Twitter | DailyMail on Facebook

To cure insomnia give up desire
For sleep ,and memory
Too retire.

What is there in a church when there’s no God
Except the light that swims inside stained glass.
What does that emptiness remind us of?

Once upon a time,I thought there was;
Now I fill with doubts and have to pass.
What is there in a church when there’s no God?

Does it matter we’re not good enough
At dealing with the people God harassed ?
What does that emptiness remind us of?

For Catholics it was the  very Host of God
Not the congregation  or their past.
What is there in a church when there’s no God?

For Protestants ,  community despaired;
The entire world of spirit was aghast.
What does that emptiness remind us of?

The open tomb, the lost disciples shared;
The spirit wrenched when end time was declared
What is there in a church when there’s no God;
What does that emptiness remind us of?

 

https://www.lifewire.com/iphone-vs-android-best-smartphone-2000309

The advantage of an Android phone to me is that the photos go  right into Google  photos so  I have no need to uploadAnd  as I use a Chromebook it’s very handy
.On the other hand Windows phones send photos to One Drive.I have never seen an iPhone so I don’t know about them.I’d be afraid of losing them as they seem expensive to me.

https://wordscat.wordpress.com/2017/01/14/poetry-for-beginners/

 

“Perhaps the most useful definition, in fact, would begin with a statement about expectation: the expectation with which a reader engages a poem, and the reasons for which a poet may have undertaken the poem, and the possible discrepancy between these two. We have all had the experience of fighting a work of art because it was not doing what we were asking of it. “”John Ashbery said in an interview: “My feeling is that a poem that communicates something that’s already known to the reader is not really communicating anything to him and in fact shows a lack of respect for him.” Since what is communicated in a work of art is also how it is communicated, a false expectation is almost certain to produce a false reading. And often we confirm this by the happy surprise that comes when a work we had been defeated by suddenly opens itself to us—we find that it performs very well the job of work which was its reason, once we stop asking it to perform some other service which was no part of its intention.”

To be successful is our conscious goal
But surely first must come the making whole?

Invisible except to abstract thought
We see them with an eye we  must construct
The transcendental numbers came unsought

We only know a few, so we were taught.
Pi and e from inner space were plucked
Invisible except to abstract thought

Even  calling zero, number naught
Was   very  hard  just like the empty set
The transcendental numbers came unsought

Once we defined real  numbers then we light
The way to finding what we now detect.
Invisible except to abstract thought

Danger lurks where men have taken flight,
Into the abstract world without respect.
The transcendental numbers were not sought

Like we  put a plug in to connect
We may be shocked by feeling its effects.
Invisible except to abstract thought,
The transcendental numbers ,  hardly bought

Deep mysteries lie between the numbers whole.
Ratios  have a logic  we accept
But, in between,  infinity dwells veiled

At first, one  merely counted  shark fin whales
Such numbers seem both simple  and direct
Yet mysteries  hide between  the numbers  whole

Sheep and goats  are counted  soon as well
Yet mystery  an hypoteneuse   reflects
For at such points   infinity dwells veiled

A number which gives 2 when  squared itself
Can nowhere find a ratio to check.
Yes, mysteries lie between  our numbers  whole

The Greeks  rejected such irrational stealth
To geometry  only  they chose to connect
For on a  line, infinity dwells veiled

On infinite shores, their reason was well wrecked
As those who tried to measure circles found defects.
Deep mysteries lie between   the numbers  whole
On  lines and arcs, infinity dwells veiled

I might go to church again except I don’t like confession
Well, just tell a few of your sins
We don’t use the term sin so much now
Have your hurt anyone?
Just the people who read my blog on a  bad day
And the people at the bus stop
How?
I spoke to them,I forgot I was in the South.
They are cold and distant
I took undue pleasure when one I hate missed the bus by 2 minutes.
What was she throwing at it?
Just her crutches.
Well, you can go to Confession now
Are you a priest?
I didn’t mean this minute
Well stop telling lies
I was just passing a remark
Well go back and say hello to it
What,now?
When you have time.
Oh ,look we forgot to get on the bus.
Is that a sin
Stop being so scrupulous
Well two sins are better than one!

I like leopard skin but  what do you think,because it might make you seem to support the Tories.
I am a Tory!
No offence meant.
It’s interesting how we put our feet in our mouths
How many mouths have you got?
Ask a silly question
OK Will  it rain tonight
Why?You can’t dry washing in the dark
Yes, you can
Where?
In the airing cupboard or  in a heatwave.
Where do you  keep your heat wave?
I see English is  not your mother tongue.
That is very true.I spoke with my eyes first.
My eyes were too shy!
They look lovely now
Appearance and reality
Are you a philosopher?
No,I’m still human.
Thank goodness.You look green
It’s those antibiotics.
Surely they are not filled with green dye.
You never know these days.It might be a preservative.
So true.
Well have you ironed those tops yet?
No,I am waiting till everybody else irons theirs
Will you wear them crumpled
Yes, they will match my face
It looks ok to me
You are myopic
Am I? I thought I was Nordic.
They are not mutually exclusive
Wow.That is amazing.
Sorry, it  fell off my tongue.
Well,put it back and swallow it
Oh,look, the bus is coming
So is something else
You must stop drinking coffee.
But it  is yellow
I haven’t washed your trousers for 40 years with knowing that
Is it 41 years.
About

https://www.quantamagazine.org/the-beautiful-mathematical-explorations-of-maryam-mirzakhani-20170724

Quote:

“The meanderings of sadness that news of Maryam Mirzakhani’s death brought compelled me to read every article I could find about her, and when I could not find more articles, I started to read the comments of the readers. Many of them wrote that they saw her as “unrelatable and incomprehensible,” given that they were “math challenged.” However, Maryam was the opposite of unrelatable. She reminded us, in words and actions, that mathematical ideas can be understood if one puts enough persistence into the task.

She was not the star of her lectures; the only stars were the mathematical ideas. She spoke calmly and clearly and radiated deep enjoyment of the process.

Maryam had the ability to quickly perceive the appropriate wavelength of her interlocutor and speak accordingly, a rare quality in a mathematician. She listened with attention and was very generous with her time. Behind her kind serenity one could perceive a steely tenacity and a deep well of ideas and, of course, a passion for math and an incessant quest for the fantastic “aha” moment. This moment often took years for her, because she worked on profound questions.

After one of her lectures, we walked together chatting. Suddenly, the voice of a child came from an adjacent room and Maryam exclaimed, “Anahita!” The voice belonged to her daughter. Maryam’s exclamation lit up the room. She sounded totally different than she had during the lecture. Her entire humanity was in the exclamation.

Maryam’s work connected ideas from different areas of mathematics. Part of this work consisted of counting closed curves on surfaces. A mathematical surface is, roughly speaking, the outer layer of a solid object. In topology, surfaces are studied up to the point of deformation — they’re allowed to bend and stretch but not to tear — thus the old joke that a topologist can’t tell a coffee cup from a doughnut. Surfaces can also have holes and edges. In this way, a disk and a cylinder can both be thought of as surfaces.”

Read more by going to the link above

The rain soaked dust is rising like a mist
As in Port Meadow,Oxford riverside
The sun returns and takes it in a kiss.

The open spaces offer us real bliss
Where truly God  or holiness reside.
The rain soaked dust is rising like a mist

Yet when  we have the time do we resist;
Ignore the need to go where love abides?
The sun returns and offers us  a kiss.

The damage from the News give hearts a twist
Our dreams   may splinter, though we’re side by side
The rain soaked dust is rising like a mist

Do we know the life that we have missed
Taking in the media though we sigh?
The sun  shines brightly over  this abyss.

What is it  we do until we die
Breathing in the solitude awry?
The rain soaked dust is rising like a mist.
The sun returns and warms the iron fist

Poetry is good for the soul, therapeutic for problems

“The class centers not on the literary side of poetry, but the emotional side.

“In a way it’s very good [not to criticize], but I’d like to bring in some criticism sometimes. I do it sometimes, but I like to emphasize the emotions in the positive aspects as much as possible.”

She believes that poetry is a perfect vehicle through which to express oneself, because it concentrates emotions.

“It has shorter lines than essays or stories and [therefore] compact thoughts and emotions that go into the poem,” she says. “Haiku especially, it’s like a puzzle. It helps to get the brain going.”

Poetry even can play a part in the prevention of Alzheimer’s, she suggests.

And for many poetry club members, this class has helped in healing, and keeping the brain and soul active and awake.”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_W._Sexton

 

I am a kettle made of stainless steel
I am a saint,  for tea  is brewed to heal
And , unlike kettles on an old  coal fire,
I am not dirty nor do I perspire.

My mirrored sides reflect you as you cook.
Look at me and read me like a book
I’m  full of love and hotter than a man
Oh, dear lady, love me while you can.

Superior mother,  yet inhuman  I;
Even electric kettles sometimes lie.
I shall never punish you, my dear
For perfect love like mine shall wield no fear.

All I ask is that you polish me.
For, in between your hands, I  yearn to be.

http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/brexit-british-jobs-david-davis-divorce-bill-spanish-pensioners-immigrants-a7934881.html

 

The success of the Brexit negotiations show that we’re finally getting our country back

“What is grace? I know until you ask me; when you ask me, I do not know.”
~ Saint Augustine