A Variation on the Tortoise and the Hare

 Dear reader,

I have really hated the past few days of extreme heat.  Perhaps it is a little better today, but not much and my study is too hot to think and write the blog.  Please forgive me,  I have holed up this week with curtains drawn and fans on full strength so am feeling a bit feeble and tired.

But this poem about the tortoise and the hare always seems to amuse you so here it is :

 

A Variation on the Tortoise and the Hare

The tortoise, shell-encased,
shy, and timid,
was fond of quiet places.
He ate lettuce sandwiches,
drank bottled water
and did deep breathing exercises.
He was slow alright,
but kept on "keeping on" getting there,
although a little fearful
or what life can bring.

The, he discovered anxiety pills,
and grew bolder,
he opinionated more.
Rejected lettuce,
ate avocado and prawn cocktails,
drank vodka,
and tried his hand at salsa dancing.
Confidence change him.

Ah ha the hare.

The hare spoke his mind.
He jumped and danced
texted and mobiled friends,
arranged outings,
and had a ball.
But the Gods were watching him,
the sent a "don't forget card"
to remind him of his tortoise life.

his quiet life
the life that was right and good
for a tortoise.

He threw the anxiety pills away
and slowly his shell grew back,
he started reading again,
he talked less,
thought more,
enjoyed lettuce sandwiches
and drank bottled water.
He became the tortoise 
that he was meant to be.

 

With best wishes, Patricia 

 

 

 

Moment

 Dear Reader,

Stained glass windows, made up of coloured and painted glass pieces held together by lead strips, were especially popular in Europe in the period between 1150 and 1550, when they were a prominent feature of cathedrals and other churches as well as city halls and homes for the elite.  

Its translucent qualities made stained glass especially popular in religious contexts where large windows with scenes from the bible and the lives of saints could animate a saved space with colourful glimmering lights, and subtly change the atmosphere depending on the tie of day, and the changing of the seasons. 

                                                                                   *

I see it is going to be very hot next week, a heatwave on Monday and Tuesday.  This kind of weather does not suit me at all.   I shut all the curtains and blinds, put on the fans and spend the time reading and doing a jigsaw puzzle.  Mary gave me the puzzle for Christmas this year and I am doing it again for the third time.  I like doing the same puzzle over and over again, I don't why this is the case, but it is a fact nevertheless.

                                                                                

                                                                                     *

 

From Dorothy Wordsworth     June 20th  1802  in Westmorland

'We lay upon the sloping turf.   Earth and sky were so lovely that they melted our very hearts.  The sky to the north was of a chastened yet rich yellow, fading into pale blue and streaked and scattered over with a steady islands of purple, melting away into shades of pink.  It made my heart almost feel like a vision to me.' 

From William Cowper    June 21st  1784 in Buckinghamshire

'We have now frosty mornings, and so cold a wind, that even at high noon we have been obliged to break off our walk in the southern side of the garden and seek shelter, I in the greenhouse, and Mrs. Unwin by the fireside.  Haymaking begins here to-morrow.' 

 

                                                                                      *

Moment

 

The church is cool from summer sun,

organ music plays.

 

We walk down the aisle

enjoy the scent of lilies

filling the holy air

point out ruby stained glass windows

depicting Christ on the cross,

examine oak and stone carvings

plaster heads of saints

the altar cloth rich in green and gold.

 

He runs up the pulpit steps

says a few words in Latin.

I laugh

then we kneel together in a back pew

say a prayer.

 

He takes my hand.

 

                                                                    *

With best wishes, Patricia 

 

Maybe Prince Philip's bedroom looked like this.

 Dear reader,

 

The only things I know about Prince Philip are the ones I read in the newspaper or in a book.  It seems to me that he was rather a difficult and taciturn man, not easy for the Queen or for anyone else for that matter.  

I sometimes like to imagine the Royal family and concluded that Prince Philip was very traditional in his tastes so I wrote the following poem with that in mind. I really know someone who reads a book called "Grouse in Health and Disease' and finds it very interesting.  Well it takes all sorts doesn't it?

The Duchess of Kent, now sadly died, was my favourite Royal.  She was, I think, kind and good and taught the piano at a local school calling herself Mrs. Kent. 

                                                                             *

I have been doing small sketches about this and that on Instagram which seem to go down well.  This week I had had a good idea so I spoke about it. Lots of the women who perform on Instagram wear lovely  new clothes and I suddenly decided that I would like some new ones too.  But I am short of money and had a good idea. Put all your existing clothes out on the bed, I said, then jumble them all up.  Put different cardigans with different dresses and change the colour scarves you usually wear and lo you have new outfits from your own collection.  It works very well and I am pleased with the results.

 

                                                                                 * 

From Gerald Manly Hopkins   June 16th  1873 in Lancashire

'I looked at the pigeons down in the  kitchen yard and so on.  The look like little gay jugs by shape when they walk, strutting and jod-jodding with their heads.  The two young ones are all white and the pins of the folded wings, quill pleated over quill, are like the crisp and shapely cuttle-shells found on the shore.   The others are dull thunder-colour or black-grape-colour except in the the white pieings, the quills and tail, and in the shot of the neck.  I saw one up on the eaves of the roof: as it moved its head a crush of stain green came and went, a wet or soft flaming of the light.'

                                                                                   *

Maybe

 

Prince Philip’s bedroom

looked like this:

 

Two afghan carpets cover the floor,

in the corner a narrow bed with quilted eiderdown,

a small oak bedside table

with lamp and parchment shade,

two small books:

‘Grouse in Health and Disease’

and ‘Fishing on the Spey’,

hunting pictures, horses and dogs

are hung round the room,

a mahogany chest of drawers

with family photographs on top,

one with the Queen and a corgi,

two silver hair brushes lie on

a round table with mirror,

and his bright blue dressing gown

is thrown over an embroidered stool.

The arm chair has a floral cover

with matching chintz cushions,

and there is small vase

of early daffodils on the window seat.

 

Or maybe not.

 

                                                                         *

 

With best wishes, Patricia 

 

 

This Man

Pictures of Ratty

Dear reader, 

Making my breakfast last week I looked out of the window and saw a large rat in the garden.  Now I am not keen on rats.  They are a smidgen better than mice because they don't scuttle about but nevertheless I am not keen.  In fact I sat down all of a tremble.  Knowing my usual anxious state I started to imagine that he/she would get into the house, and possibly have lots of baby rats as well.

So what was the best thing to do?  I decided that I had to think of a rat that I liked or at least tolerated.  Ah yes, I thought, Ratty from The Wind in the Willows, and was in fact,  quite fond of. It was possible I suppose that the rat in my garden was a vague relation of The Wind in the Willows character and therefore a sort of friend.  

The trembling stopped and I felt composed again.  

The moral of this tale is, I suppose, that it is your attitude to events that makes us calm and happy.The way we digest news of any kind can take take the stress out of it if we allow it to.

Change your attitude and see if I am not right.

                                                                                     *

 

 From Gilbert White    June7th 1783 in Hampshire

'Tulips are faded.   Honeysuckles still in beauty.  My columbines are very beautiful.  Tied some of the stems with pieces of worsted, to mark them for seed.  Planted out pots of green cucumbers.'

 

From Francis Kilvert   June 15th  1873 in Wiltshire

'The sun and the golden buttercup meadow had it almost to themselves......One or two people were crossing the Common early by the several paths through the golden sea of buttercups which will soon be the silver sea of ox-eyes.   The birds were signing quietly.  The cuckoo's notes tolled clear and sweet as a silver bell.' 

                                                                            *

 

this man

 

loved blue

 

it was a ship, a blue ship

 

that he sailed in

 

it was his power

 

made his heart beat faster

 

drove him along life’s waterways

 

 

but he sailed away

 

came adrift

 

became shipwrecked

 

no power no heartbeat

 

this man

 

had lost the blue

 

 

but I made a small ship out of wood

 

gave it sails of the finest silk

 

an engine fired with love

 

 now he sails again

 

his power came back

 

 

and I painted the ship blue

 

for

 

this man

 

 

                                                              *

With very best wishes, Patricia 

 

For You, Everyman

 Dear Reader

 

The Kaftan is one of the world's oldest garments.  Originating in ancient Mesopotamia and Persia (c.600 BC) the long loose an airy tunics was originally a practical lightweight garment designed to beat the heat, and served as a symbol of nobility and status. 

Over millennia, it spread along global trade routes and evolved to become a symbol of power, high fashion, and everyday luxury across multiple empires.  The Ottomans embraced the Kaftan  primary garment.  The robes were meticulously crafted from fine silk, velvet and gold.

The colours, patterns and buttons displayed the weaver's exact rank.  Sultans also used them as diplomatic gifts to important dignitaries and generals. Originally reserved for royal court and elite, it became a cornerstone of Moroccan wedding ceremonies and traditional craftsmanship.

The Kaftan was embraced by Western hippies and travelers in the l960s and l970s who discovered them on the "hippy trail"across North Africa and India. 

 

                                                                             * 

 

From Dorothy Wordsworth    May 31st  1802 in Westmorland

'We sat out all day.'

 

From William Allingham   May 31st  1865 in Donegal

'Walk in the garden at  midnight and her corncrake.'

 

From Thomas Hardy   June 3rd  1865 in London

'Walked about by moonlight in the evening.  Wondered what woman, if any, I should be thinking about in five years' time.' 

                                                                          * 

 

 

For You,

Everyman

 

 My smile is for you.

Yes, you, the man on the omnibus,

You, the woman in the crowd,

You, the small child, playing in the dust,

You, the homeless, the tramp unbowed,

You, in business suit, you, in kaftan,

You, the tall, you, the short,

 

Yes, You, Everyman.

 

The exchanged smile

acknowledges shared humanity

in this fleeting recognition.

No words are needed.

 

                                                                     *

With very best wishes, Patricia 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Valediction

 Dear Reader,

 

Daisy chains trace their origins back to folklore, pastoral pastimes, and mythology of Europe. While the exact inventor is  lost to history the craft of weaving Bellis perennis stems dates back centuries, evolving from ancient Celtic and Roman myths into a timeless symbol of innocence, youth and peace.

In Celtic mythology daisies were said to be scattered over the earth by God to cheer parents who had lost a child.  The white petals and yellow centres came to symbolize pure spirits. 

                                                                               *

 

I am finally feeling better and have come to one conclusion about prescription pills.   They do not suit me at all.  I was given pills because I said to the doctor I had nightmares; the pills I was prescribed gave me more nightmares. I had been feeling ill with strange thoughts in my head and, guess what, some of the blood pressure pills I was taking were known for giving you bad and strange thoughts.  So now I take none of the pills and feel good and happy.  One piece of advice:  always read the side effects that you might have in your prescription pills, this is essential for understanding what you might be experiencing.

 

                                                                                *

From D.H. Lawrence  May 24th  1916 in Cornwall

'The country is simply wonderful, blue, graceful little companies of bluebells everywhere on the moors, the gorse in flame, and on the cliffs and by the sea, a host of primroses like settling butterflies, and seapinks like a hover of pink bees, near the water.  There is a Spanish ship run on the rocks just below - great excitement everywhere.' 

From Francis Kilvert  May 27th   1874 in Wiltshire

'.....banks and hedges brilliant with pink campion.....As I came home the western heavens were jewelled with pure bright sparkling lights of grey silver and pale gold, and overhead a sublime mackerel sky of white and blue in its distant fleecy beauty gave me more intense and grand sense of infinity and illimitable than I ever remember to have had before.' 

 

                                                                                    *

A Valediction

 

To innocence

to childhood

to youth

to skipping about

to making daisy chains

to looking in the mirror

seeing someone pretty

to wearing gypsy clothes

feeling exotic in them

to flirting and being flirted with

to kissing someone new

drowning in that indescribable

feeling of lust and love

to smoking king size cigarettes

to being passionate about something

daydreaming about a bright future

to changing the world

making poverty unknown

the poor rich.

 

But knowing now the truth

about old age being shite

hello to fudge and ice cold gins,

small pleasures and quieter things.

 

                                                                     *

With very best wishes,  Patricia 

 

 

My Memoir Written last year. HALF A PAIR OF PEOPLE

                                                                                 

Dear Reader,

 

It seems to me that you like my Instagram sketches, thank you so much.

 

Last year I brought out a book of my life up to the time that I lived in Oxford in 1980.  Lots of stories of my varied life which you seem to enjoy. So Friends here is an idea.

 

Why not buy one?

All you have to do is go on line to AMAZON.

Go to the books section and write PATRICIA HUTH and it will come up and you can order the book wherever you live.

Everyone who has read it has enjoyed it very much and I think you will too.  It is funny.

 

Thank you for all your wonderful support over the years, eleven years now since I started my blog.  And it has been fun, I have only missed five Sundays in all that time.

 

Very best wishes, Patricia