Friday, 8 April 2022


 'We are not sure of sorrow,

And joy was never sure;

To-day will die to-morrow;

Time stoops to no man's lure...'

From 'The Garden of Prosperpine', by A. C. Swinburne.

I was thinking of the whole streets of the houses of those whom I have known in this town; from those who were already really very old when I was a small child, up to the more recent death announcements, mainly for members of my parents' generation. There are roll calls of them. It is true that I have been quite far away, for decades, more than I have ever been here. 

However, friends and acquaintances, who date from the beginning of our memory, never really fade much, if at all; even though we have not seen them, or even heard of them, for years on end. Then, when one comes across them again (sometimes, but not always, through social media), there are various reactions. 

Some people behave as though we have always been in touch, or take up where we left off (and it might have been at age 10). However, quite a number are happy to reminisce at a safe distance but, even though we might now live fairly close, fight shy of actually meeting. Sometimes, I feel the same, and I have been wondering why. I have heard it said that remeeting people after a parting is redolent of the resurrection, but I feel that applies most to serendipitous encounters.

There can be a degree of reluctance to engage in a prolonged reunion, and it is not shyness. No, I think that it is because we like to keep our memories intact, and we do not want them disturbed - or even shattered - in their overall integrity, *by what we have all become*.

Wednesday, 6 April 2022

The Woodlanders

 Rusty and I went for a woodland walk, and discovered this scented, cream rhodie in bloom. On the way back, for some reason, I asked whether she had met Mr and Mrs 'P' when she was in Brazil. Apparently not. Then I said:

"Mr P was a total wreck: cocaine, alcohol, cigarettes, and had lost most of his teeth - but had kept his hair."

Rusty: "Apart from the cocaine and the hair, that sounds like you."

Saturday, 26 March 2022

Podcast, hosted by Mimi Novic

 Mimi Novic ( kindly invited me to do a podcast, which is here:

Mimi also really inspired me to get posting here again!

Friday, 25 March 2022

Elis Regina's performances have long beguiled my senses. The internet does not bring us scent, but performances, such as this, get as close as possible. Her living scent reaches out, from beyond her early grave. If those whom the gods love die young, she was surely one of them.

After the seeming end of the song, and at the beginning of the applause, the drums beat back in, and she goes on, giving them more, very naturally; to a perfect ending. No wonder that she was her nation's darling, and that they filled the streets for her funeral. Brazilians call her 'Furação' - 'Hurricane'.

Thanks to live recordings, she beguiles our senses forever.

Very rough translation of the lyrics:

Two Steps Here, Two Steps There.

With a chill in my soul,

I asked you to dance,

Your voice was soothing;

Two steps here, two steps there.


My treacherous heart

Was pounding more than the bongo drums,

Shivering more than the maracas,

Skipping beats with love.


My head was spinning,

Making turns more than any couple on the dance floor,

Oh your sweet perfume of gardenias

Just don't ask me to tell any more of it...


Your hand landing on my neck,

The smoothness of your back,

Which haunted as a phantasy,

My lonely nights for so long.


A fake diamond ring on my finger,

A pair of earrings matching the necklace,

And the end of an annoying Band-Aid,

Hurting one of my heels.


Now here I am, lonely, making myself drunk,

With a mix of whisky and Guaraná soda,

I just heard your voice, gently whispering:

'Two steps here, two steps there'.

In total abandonment, you left the illusion,

That I had in my heart for you.