Only in England can you find such a peaceful place
Philip Morris wrote:
As one who has coached corporations in public speaking let me be clear….this was NOT master class in public speaking, but rabble rousing. He broke numerous rules reminiscent of a mafia leader happy to be vindictive, to spout lies, to divide his audience, to exploit even his allies….the list goes on. You don’t win an audience by letting your narcisstic traits race to the fore.. nor by adopting a bullying, boastful & boring aggression towards so many. His economic policies may well cause a recession while his bowing to Putin is reprehensible. Compared to almost every other President before him he comes over as an arrogant, ignorant, bully, a leader without a moral compass, without calm intelligent inspiring rhetoric and dangerously naive in assuming Putin will maintain a peace. God help us!
The face that was familiar is no more Yet he haunts me in my dreams and in my days I miss him for his judgment and his art The face that was familiar is no more Yet in my mind’s eye I can see him plain Humorous and kind , a rare blessed soul He haunts me in my dreams and in my days The face that was familiar is no more
I cannot mend the lamp that we both chose The top and bottom split when he fell down But I can make it look as if it glows
The candle burns, has fragrance of a rose That takes away my sadness and my frown I cannot mend the lamp that we both chose
I find it hard to bear the pain of loss The concept is more verbal than it’s noun But in my home the candle brightly glows
In Blythburgh church, a lighted candle bless See the painted angels and their crowns! I will bear this breakage and its cost
I will get the strength to bear my cross Oh,haul me, holy one, if I fall down. Beyond these lights we sense the Light of God
Bless the hand that points us past the known Where each of us must travel, perhaps alone I cannot mend our lamp that we both chose I wander in my grief amongst the low
By Salthouse Church the wind blew off your hat We watched it flying like an unstrung kite Then snow fell in cold Cromer,see the map! A cat dosed by the fire in the warm pub Yet near Salthouse winds blew off your hat I’d have blown off too, were I less fat These gales would give the sailing boats a fright By Salthouse Church the wind blew off your hat We watched it flying up in cold sunlight
“The idea that painful emotions are better kept conscious and simply suffered until they go away of their own accord is one which may not have entered their heads.”
Like trying to reduce mathematics to a mere branch of logic as Russell and Whitehead did [didn’t succeed,in fact],trying to write the rules of English grammar is difficult
Mary was sitting in the kitchen drinking some tea whilst admiring the wild plum tree in blossom.
Suddenly her neighbour Annie ran into the room wearing a pink corduroy dress with long sleeves buttoned at the wrist and her legs were covered by striped tights that she had a bought in Woolworths in 1998.
She looked at Mary quizzically
You don’t look yourself this morning
No I’m not myself today I think it’s that schizoid remoteness that I have heard about recently. Could you become schizoid when you’re over 70? Annie teased her gently.
I don’t suppose it’s paranoid anhedonia.
Just plain and simple grief.
When was grief ever pkain and simple Mary wondered out loud
I’ve never heard of ak Anhedonia before. It sounds like a very good name for a cat
Come here Anhedonia.
Emil Mary’s beautiful cat woke up and cried out, I told you I should have learned Greek at school, mother.
But you didn’t go to school Mary told him kindly
You could have got me a private tutor in that case but first of all I would have to learn to read and write which is something I never got round to.
So what made you think that that word was Greek?
It just reminds me of things I heard you saying to Stan before he died.
Oh yes it was probably when I was discussing my anisometropia with him.
Is that a house plant Annie asked nervously.
No it’s something to do with the fact that you can’t get both of your eyes sorted with super suitable lenses simultaneously
That sounds dreadful cried Annie mournfully.
And you know what the optician said to me Mary told her
He said you’ve got 90% of your eyesight back compared to a blind person but only 60% back compared to someone with perfect vision.
So I said to him don’t talk to me like that I am a mathematician I used to teach statistics to trade union students. You can’t do that with percentages they’re not metaphors you know or similes.
But on reflection I realised that I could understand perfectly well what he meant.
It reminded me of Stan when he used to say
The distance between 0 and 1 is bigger than the distance from one to two
That would not be allowed in a mathematics book but actually he was 100% right compared to a human being but only t 10% compared to God. And even that’s an exaggeration.
We have just sorted out the Greek alphabet and mathematics and percentages and metaphors why don’t we put the kettle on and make nice cup of tea. A coal fire in this room would make it perfect why we could even boil the kettle on it and reduce the electricity bill
Oh mother you are so funny cried Emile graciously I just love the way you talk I could listen to you all day long
Thank you very much Emile that’s wonderful to know that you don’t mind listening to me like this all day because I have no one else to talk to
Excuse me said Annie you can talk to me.
Thank you dear I know I can but sometimes I remember that you only went to Grey’s road polytechnic whereas I went to Cambridge university on a scholarship although I would rather have gone on the train
You went to Cambridge university but did you actually go inside and learn anything?
That’s what we’re all wondering but sk at least she has a little humility.
I wish that we could say the same for the most powerful man in the world.
Yet even a modest poet is more powerful in reality than someone who rules by lies power and force and probably even death.
The poet alters our vision.
Though sometimes it’s easier to get new spectacles instead
He wanted some companion during the night but nobody was able to be with him.
I’m sure that some of us have had a similar experience.
So would a helper have said to Jesus
Why don’t you listen to some music I know the radio has not been invented yet but you are God…. So make yourself a radio and listen to music
Why don’t you turn your mind away from fear of death I’m thinking about signing up for an art class,myself.
I know that Jews can’t worship images but there’s no harm in making some images was paint or pastels.
It might lift your mood..
Now Jesus, have you drunk enough water today? Have you had a proper meal?
(Well they had the last supper I believe.)
Don’t you think we should all go home and go to bed and have a good rest and forget about this event that’s going to happen?
Now Jesus what you need is a good holiday.
You know it’s not so far to Cyprus and it would be a break from living in this occupied territory.
The Romans have a lot to answer for.
And would Jesus have lost his temper and called out to the disciples
Satan get thee hence.
Then somebody will just say, if you feel bad at three o’clock in the morning it’s often a sign of depression and I believe there are some new antidepressants on the market now.
Why don’t you see the doctor tomorrow and ask him can you have a free sample because there is no NHS in the holy land.
And that’s why Jesus stayed in the Garden of Gethsemane by himself because he did not like what his followers were saying to him. And it was all because they didn’t want to actually know how he was feeling: that he was sweating blood that he was afraid that he was terrified but he was going to continue on the path that he believed God had set him on.
And after all he was the son of God. So he believed and there is some evidence to favor that view.
How flexible. How charming. How alarming How creative How festive. what an idea! what a notion what emotion! But you are too big for me to knit so, I’ll just touch your hand with my fingers. and you may touch my hand with your fingers. What good hands we have with such fingers. Fingers are for touch. fingers are keen to touch. I like touch. what would we do without fingers? I like your skin. Skin is good.
We love skin. We love. We are. I want skin to be ours, and yours is mine, and mine is yours. Where is the edge of the world? Skin has no end. it’s infinity, au naturel. What order! What design! What wonder. What awe. What a tune What a rhyme! What good time! Where is the world’s skin? Tenderly we touch the world as the world embraces us. It’s called love. Love.
Tucked away in William Blake’s poem, “The Mental Traveller,” is a line that elucidates one of the great mysteries of ancient and modern thought. He wrote, “The eye altering alters all.” Obviously, our own thoughts and feelings color our experience of the world. But Blake was getting at something much more fundamental. In effect, he was saying that how we see the world changes the world. We are not mere passive observers of reality but collaborators with it.
I have read that creative artists need humility in order to be creative
But what is humility?
As far as I can gather it means accepting emptiness. I have seen it expressed in the following sentence which I believe was first mentioned by Thomas Aquinas and it was also mention by the Psycho analyst Wilfred Bion.
This is it
You say, I have nothing I am nothing, I know nothing. In the emptiness of total humility there is a space into which creativity can enter.
Of course these artists and writers do not feel humble all the time I am laughing as I’m thinking of Picasso.
Apparently not knowing is part of getting to know something. If you think you’re already know everything then you’re not going to discover anything new, are you?
But we are taught to be frightened of emptiness and nothingness yet it is out of nothingness that something emerges.
She gave me a plain look. It was very easy to interpret her contempt. But not so lovely to feel it washing over me. That’s when I began running.
Is it sacrilege to smile at the priest while he is holding up the bread and wine,? Don’t answer because as long as I don’t know it’s not a sin ,although willful ignorance could be a sin but it’s a different sin from the first one
Yet even that might annoy God. But can we really believe that god is looking at us all day long when he went through the ordeal of losing his only son on Calvary? The two things don’t seem compatible somehow.
I wonder what the people who used to make wooden confessionals the Catholic churches do to make their living now because I don’t think many people ever go to the confessional on a Saturday night and say they will never sin again. If it was changed to Sunday night they will do better in terms of numbers at least
the artist can regain what Yeats calls ‘the old nonchalance of the hand.’ For Milner, as for her contemporary T.S. Eliot, ‘The progress of an artist is a continual self-sacrifice, a continual extinction of personality.’
I ‘ll try to get it right for one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present in your Light
Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.
Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes You were always there,oh gentle Light
You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe? I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.
The agony inside me lost its bite
I wanted to go on, to be alive You do not always show your golden Light
We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time I never saw such Gold until that night
Alfred and Dora Smith, who had just taken possession of a solid gold powder compact, bought from dear old Stan on the beach ,went down to Cromer so Dora could go to Boots, She wanted a new and more suitable shade of pressed powder to put into the compact.
Satan was getting cheesed off as Dora had the compact shut away in her handbag of purple and red leather with a yellow strap.Since she otherwise dressed entirely in black the vivid colours did not seem quite so dreadful.Some might call them post modern
You may disagree, but I believe a coloured leather handbag is a definite must for any woman nowadays.Where else can one hid one’s log tables,kindle reader,tampons, set squares,kleenex,rulers,pens and other female items not to mention lipstick and other vital items?
Satan ,not being divine.did not know where Alf and Dora were off to but he was hoping that he might get a peep somewhere.Maybe in the ladies loo in some pub or other,hopefully one full of women of an intriguing type with French underwear worn as outerwear in the late style of Madonna.Little did he know of the ladies of North Norfolk
Inside Boots,Dora found the Boots Number 7 beauty counter and selected some compressed powder in a color called vanilla rose beige.Since everything was 3 for 2 she bought some lavender mascara and some pink coral moisturised lipstick.After paying the bill,she and Alf ran outside as they felt poorly
My,it’s as hot as hell in there,Dora cried.Satan was pleased to hear that but he had no idea where they were but felt he was near home.
Alf suggested a walk down the pier to get some fresh air.
Facing directly North, Cromer pier is wide open to the pure winds from Siberia… but today a SW wind was blowing and despite a black cloud looming the day was bright and warm for winter in England
As the game, old but vital couple reached the end of the pier and turned to look at the North Norfolk coast line they regretted not wearing their Harris tweed coats.. a strange chill came over England that afternoon…. a hint of evil darkened the air with menace.David Cameron must have been up there in Burnham Market where the rich and sinful have holiday homes.
Shall we sit down for a minute, said Alf to his stunningly made up wife.
You sit down,I am going to look at the sea.Dora said sweetly
Dora stood at the edge of the pier looking,at the waves crashing below… and above too!
She wondered how her new short hair style was standing up to the weather and on an impulse she opened her bag and took out the gold compact so she could use the mirror to check.
Holding it n her left hand she flicked it open expertly at an angle of precisely 60 degrees.
Who was more surprised…Satan,who rarely saw faithfully married,virtuous British women, or Dora who had never before seen a demons,let alone Satan,I leave to your imagination.
Dora gave a loud shriek and threw the compact overarm high above and over the metal railings.Being solid gold it sank gently to the sea bed amongst the pearls and coral and a few suicidal people’s remains.
Alf,Alf,she called..raucuously
What is it, my pet?
There was some fiend in that mirror.What a sight! I am afraid I have accidentally bowled it overarm it into the sea.Like you showed me to when we were playing cricket
You stupid twit.I paid £500 for that.I broke the bank
Did you really?You are so sweet.I wonder if we should call 999? Dora called
I doubt if they could dive into the cold sea…for a powder compact.Alf replied
How about for the poor devil inside it? she continued.
Suddenly a heavy storm,one might say a hurricane blew up and the stout couple were almost washed away by rain and giant waves which ran into the air on either side of the pier.Clinging to each other they stumbled towards the promenade some distance back.
Let’s go and have some tea and muffins,suggested Alf thoughtfully.
Suddenly the sea swept onto the promenade and for a moment it seemed as if the two old folk would be washed away but luckily they were both very obese and their weight anchored them to the ground as well as their heavy rubber boots
Well,it’s not quite what we expected,but somehow I am relieved.Dora said
I was nervous about owning such a luxury item.I feel I am addicted to Max Factor Pancake makeup in plastic compacts she prattled merrily as Oxbridge educated folk like to do especially if they did PPE like our Prime Minister
Alf was dozing and in his mind he saw a host of pancakes with little faces each wearing full makeup
How can I eat these,he muttered.They seem like human beings… they look quite charming.His head fell back and he began to snore loudly
Dora was happy enough watching canoes go by carrying people along the promenade and into the old town.What a dear place Cromer is,she thought,as the lifeboat passed the cafe window full of terrified people..What a dear old place to live in.Why would anyone want to live inlan
After Stan left the police behind, he drove Satan to Sheringham,There they rented a fidhrman’s cottage and enjoyed walking to Weybourne along the cliffs where they saw some butterflies .Satan seemed surprised by the cheery residents.He usually dwelt in cities and dens of iniquity.Stan’s pocket bulged with the golden powder compact standing up.He liked Sheringham but usually had Mary with him for company rather than Satan. One afternoon on the beach a man of riper years stopped and spoke to him I see you always carry face powder in a compact with you.Are you a transvestite by ny chance? I am sorry to say,I am not.Is that bad news?Stan asked him Well,not really.I never expected to meet one down here.But my wife has lost her powder compact and it’s hard to get gold ones now.I’ll give you at least £500 for that.It’s lovely. Stan pondered.He had got fond of Satan but was unsure what to do with him next and he could not remain on holiday for ever as Emile his cat didn”t like it He thought perhaps leaving Satan here in Sheringham might benefit humanity in the long run. OK then.he cried and in a flash he had handed over the gold compact to the gentleman who seemed thrilled.He produced £500 pounds in notes and the deal was done. Stan went back and informed Emile the holiday was over.We can go home now,Emile.I have got rid of Satan,at least for now. Thank God,miaowed Emile.I miss Annie and her perfume.. That makes two of us,thought Stan as he drove towards King’s Lynn and the Ouse crossing… But how will poor Satan feel? Will he be converted to life in a seaside home or will he soon be heading back to Knittingham?Time will tell. Sheringham may be too small for him and probably has very few dens of iniquity.And even Cromer is probably not wicked enough for this old devil….
Stan was very worried that the police had caught him.He didn’t realize that ,with the low sun, the mirror in his pocket was flashing out coded messages to aircraft.He got out of the car and walked over to the police on the grassy verge of the road I’m so sorry,it’s just my wife’s solid gold powder compact.See? Have you got your marriage certificate with you? Well,no.I didn’t know we in the UK needed to show them to the police. demurred Stan It may belong to your wife but you are a man.Men don’t carry them.We never saw one before.Young women never use then, Certain men might of course..actors or politicians.I know Tony Blair wore make up. That’s irrelevant.Give me that compact. Stan pulled the golden compact out of his pocket,still open. The police man stared into the mirror.His face turned pale.He handed the compact to Stan and ran back to his car asking the driver to take him to the nearest boiling Tea Shop. Stan looked at Satan and grinned… What did you do? I just held up a photo I have of him in bed with a sheep….need I say more? Did you enjoy seeing that? Stan asked thoughtlessly. Not much.~I prefer your flame haired mistress with her perfume of Araby.She’s something else again. So you can smell then? Stan enquired. Oh,yes,said the devil.Sure I can.I just can’t touch or be touched. So Stan started the car and off they went;all the lights were green and not a single police car was on duty. Soon they reached Upper Sheringham.The people here are very long lived.I know it’s the best place to live in the UK;then they turned down the old High Street and parked by a gambolling shop full of lambs. Now what? Will the sea cheer up a sad old devil or make him suicidal?The cliffs are not very high.We must await the next piece of the story with interest and patience. Email me with ideas at merrymaryminds@h
