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Category Archives: Humour

Leaves, Singing and Nativity Scene

The Cotoneaster’s leaves are as red as its berries.

Red leaves

This afternoon The Suitcase Singers sang on the top deck of an open-topped bus to entertain the shoppers in Falmouth. The lower deck was a Santa’s Grotto!

Suitcase Singers entertaining Falmouth shoppers on a damp Saturday afternoon. Thanks to M for taking the photo.

I love this knitted Nativity scene found in the window of Book Mark, Falmouth’s second hand bookshop. Note the selfie stick held by Joseph, reminiscent of all the selfies we saw being taken in the Sagrada Familia earlier in the week.

Nativity scene in the window of Bookmark

 

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Dog Names, A Poem and A Dedication

Today, I give you a poem, ‘My Dog’ by Ian MacMillan, a poet we met several times when we lived in Yorkshire and whose work invariably makes me smile. There has been correspondence in the Guardian letters page of the  human names people give to their dogs which disconcerts some people. I think this name beats the lot.  Try to get hold of the rest of the poem to discover the wonderful name Ian gives his cat!

My Dog

by Ian McMillan (I Found This Shirt, Carcanet)

April is the Cruellest Month
might seem like a strange name for a dog,
and sometimes I think it is
when I’m shouting her name
on the high moors
in the driving wind.

‘April is the Cruellest Month!’
I shout,
‘April is the Cruellest Month!’
and my dog runs up to me,
barking, wagging her tail,
and I feel slightly, ever so slightly
embarrassed.

But then when people say
as they walk by me
on the high moors
in the driving wind,
‘Can a month bark?’
‘Can April wag its tail?’
I swell with pride
because my dog’s name
is image, and metaphor, and poetry.

I won Ian’s book, “I Found This Shirt”, in a raffle at one of his readings and he wrote in it for me with his usual dry humour.

I Found This Shirt

Signed book

 

 
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Posted by on August 23, 2018 in Humour, poetry, Postaday2018

 

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Stephen Hawking, Rain and More Rain

We woke to the news that the amazing Stephen Hawking had died early this morning. The tributes to him have been wonderful and on The World at One this wonderful song of him with The Monty Python team was played. Here it is for you.

The following quotation came up today too. What a remarkable man he was in so many ways.

Stephen Hawking

It’s raining again!  Here is Welly-dog with daffodils through a rainy window. I love the distortion brought about by the water on the glass.

Through a rainy window

 

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Cake, Viaduct and Falmouth Harbour

We both appreciated this sign in a local shop!

Sign in Thorntons

Leaving Truro this afternoon, we saw a different view of the viaduct.

Viaduct in Truro

After enjoying a delightful evening with friends at a Wilson and Wakeman gig in the Falmouth Poly, we walked down to see the harbour lights.

Lights in Falmouth Harbour

 

 

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Face, Heather and Camellia

Today’s relentless rain stopped at about 3.30pm and we set off for our walk around the back onto The Flat Lode Trail. We are so lucky being able to leave the house and within moments are away from houses and up along the track. I was amused by the face on the stone – hope you can make it out too.

Stone face

I love the raindrops on the Heather.

Raindrops on Heather

There are camellias in flower all round the neighbourhood. My favourites are the white ones.

White Camellia

I am loving my new Nikon Coolpix A900!

 

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Ducks, Silver Linings and A Blackberry Poem

Driving into Truro this afternoon, we followed a van the rear of which which made me smile.

Ducks

Driving home, the grey sky was suddenly lit in such a way that we seemed to be looking through some torn holes to see the silver lining.

Silver holes in the sky

I was given this poem yesterday and it delighted me both as an eater of Blackberries and a bit of a wordsmith.

Blackberry Eating – Galway Kinnell

I love to go out in late September
among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries
to eat blackberries for breakfast,
the stalks very prickly, a penalty
they earn for knowing the black art
of blackberry-making; and as I stand among them
lifting the stalks to my mouth, the ripest berries
fall almost unbidden to my tongue,
as words sometimes do, certain peculiar words
like strengths or squinched,
many-lettered, one-syllabled lumps,
which I squeeze, squinch open, and splurge well
in the silent, startled, icy, black language
of blackberry-eating in late September.

Isn’t it a delight?

 
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Posted by on September 29, 2017 in Beauty, Humour, nature, Photography, poetry, postaday2017

 

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Rear Window Box, Frida Kahlo and Sophie Hannah

Walking through Penryn this afternoon, I happened upon a treat – two window boxes on the back of a car! I smiled all the rest of the way to get my hair cut.

Lobelia and Primroses

Two window boxes

Here is another window from Studio 10 where the Frida Kahlo Exhibition opens on Sunday.

Studio 10, Bond Street, Redruth

Frida Kahlo

It is always hard to leave a place you love but more than that, it is the leaving behind of the people that you love. Sophie Hannah says that she wrote this poem when she was leaving Manchester for Cambridge and wanted to reassure a friend that her decision to leave did not mean that she no longer cared for them. The poem has a lovely rhythm about it and is easy to read aloud, giving me the feeling that she is speaking directly and in person to the one she is leaving.  The poem also makes me think of times when we are left by someone and it was not their intention at all……

Leaving and Leaving You

When I leave your postcode and your commuting station,
When I left undone all the things we planned to do
You may feel you have been left by association
But there is leaving and leaving you.

When I leave your town and the club that you belong to,
When I leave without much warning or much regret,
Remember, there’s doing wrong and there’s doing wrong to
You, which I’ll never do and I haven’t yet,

And when I have gone, remember that in weighing
Everything up, from love to a cheaper rent,
You were all the reasons I thought of staying,
And none of the reasons why I went

And although I leave your sight and I leave your setting,
And our separation is soon to be a fact,
Though you stand beside what I’m leaving and forgetting,
I’m not leaving you, not if motive makes the act.

 
 

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