Saturday, 28 September 2013


Writing isn't about being experimental, it's about finding what is true.

Zadie Smith

ready, full and complete

Dear brothers and sisters, is your life full of difficulties and temptations?
Then be happy, for when the way is rough, your patience has a chance to grow. So let it grow, and don't squirm out of your problems. For when your patience is finally in full bloom, then you will be ready for anything, strong in character, full and complete.

James 1: 2-4 ( the living bible)

Sunday, 22 September 2013

something a little different

I look out of my flat window and I see rubbish strewn up the alley way, there is washing hanging on the line further up. I must put the soup boiling soon.
The sun is beginning to set now. The seagulls perch on the chimneys, the gold reflecting off their stark white breasts. They mutter to each other. 
The sky is purple almost.

Today I walked to see the sea. I met a man there. He was probably about 70 something. 
He knew everything about this county, he could talk on and on about the waterways which I pretended, with keen nodding eyes, that I understood exactly what he was on about. To be polite, you know.
He made me smile. He wished me well and I, he. 

I walked through the park on my way back here.
 I sat and read a play of Harold Pinter's. Betrayal it was. It was all right. He has a way of setting his dialogue, very quick it is. Lots beneath, through the characters.
 I like the way he does it.
 It just cries out for actor's voices to take them, take the lines and sing them out.
Easy in the mouth.    
Easy in the air.

Funny isn't it? 
How private we all are.
And does one ever really know what another's thoughts are?


your life is not small

Well, now is the right time to listen, the day to be helped. Don’t put it off; don’t frustrate God’s work by showing up late, throwing a question mark over everything we’re doing. Our work as God’s servants gets validated—or not—in the details. People are watching us as we stay at our post, alertly, unswervingly . . . in hard times, tough times, bad times; when we’re beaten up, jailed, and mobbed; working hard, working late, working without eating; with pure heart, clear head, steady hand; in gentleness, holiness, and honest love; when we’re telling the truth, and when God’s showing his power; when we’re doing our best setting things right; when we’re praised, and when we’re blamed; slandered, and honoured; true to our word, though distrusted; ignored by the world, but recognized by God; terrifically alive, though rumoured to be dead; beaten within an inch of our lives, but refusing to die; immersed in tears, yet always filled with deep joy; living on handouts, yet enriching many; having nothing, having it all.

Dear, dear Corinthians, I can’t tell you how much I long for you to enter this wide-open, spacious life. We didn't fence you in. The smallness you feel comes from within you. Your lives aren't small, but you’re living them in a small way. I'm speaking as plainly as I can and with great affection. Open up your lives. Live openly and expansively!

2 Corinthians 6: 1-13 (The message)

I believe it, so I said it.

2 Corinthians 4:13

Saturday, 21 September 2013


No entertainment is so cheap as reading, nor any pleasure so lasting. 

Mary Wortley Montagu

this moment is safe

I wanted to go on sitting there, not talking, not listening to the others, keeping the moment precious for all time, because we were peaceful all of us, we were content and drowsy even as the bee who droned above our heads. In a little while it would be different, there would come tomorrow, and the next day and another year. And we would be changed perhaps, never sitting quite like this again. Some of us would go away, or suffer, or die, the future stretched away in front of us, unknown, unseen, not perhaps what we wanted, not what we planned. This moment was safe though, this could not be touched. Here we sat together, Maxim and I, hand-in-hand, and the past and the future mattered not at all. This was secure, this funny little fragment of time he would never remember, never think about again…For them it was just after lunch, quarter-past-three on a haphazard afternoon, like any hour, like any day. They did not want to hold it close, imprisoned and secure, as I did. They were not afraid.

Daphne Du Maurier (Rebecca)

Friday, 20 September 2013

je reviens

The ships sail away under their sky of dew
But my heart is frail, it is frail for you

I wonder if these trials can be borne much more
At night my mind wanders along a lonely distant shore

The stones underfoot glimmer with a vague dancing light
At times I cannot see at all and it sets me all a fright

But oft' I hear you and see you dancing there
I watch you and believe of my bone you do share

I can think of summer haze with lawns set ablaze
The holding hands along blackberry-ied ways

The laughter from the shingle, a beat of music pure
The giddy feet of us running crazed along the shore

Though the ships sail still with mast white and strong
I let the tear go and the silence slip from my tongue

For we are swept along the ever-swirling tide
But we shall ride the waves together, you and I

Because there at your side,
The time, do I bide

Joanna Grace 

Thursday, 19 September 2013

Wuthering Heights

Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy.

Emily Bronte (Wuthering Heights)