A bus passed us today and I just managed to get a photo as it sped past. I am loving these buses with Cornish dialect on them! The buses are emblazoned with the phrase “flam-new girt lickers” which means “brand new large objects”
I have decorated our Easter tree today, on my own this year as no Grandbabies are visiting until next half term.
Edward Thomas died on this day in 1917. He enlisted in the Artists’ Rifles in 1915 and was killed by an unexploding shell on Easter Monday 1917, the first day of the Battle of Arras. His body showed no sign of external injury but his watch stopped and his pocket diary buckled by the force of the blast. Here is one of his poems for you. I love his work.
Lights OutI have come to the borders of sleep,The unfathomable deepForest where all must loseTheir way, however straight,Or winding, soon or late;They cannot choose.Many a road and trackThat, since the dawn’s first crack,Up to the forest brink,Deceived the travellers,Suddenly now blurs,And in they sink.Here love ends,Despair, ambition ends;All pleasure and all trouble,Although most sweet or bitter,Here ends in sleep that is sweeterThan tasks most noble.There is not any bookOr face of dearest lookThat I would not turn from nowTo go into the unknownI must enter, and leave, alone,I know not how.The tall forest towers;Its cloudy foliage lowersAhead, shelf above shelf;Its silence I hear and obeyThat I may lose my wayAnd myself.