by David Ignatow
I stopped to pick up the bagel
rolling away in the wind,
annoyed with myself
for having dropped it
as if it were a portent.
Faster and faster it rolled,
with me running after it
bent low, gritting my teeth,
and I found myself doubled over
and rolling down the street
head over heels, one complete somersault
after another like a bagel
and strangely happy with myself.
In recent years there have been so many good drama series across an ever-increasing number of channels that gradually they meld into each other and at the start of a second week you have to think which plotline belongs to which series.
Was Detective Inspector Thorogood trying to outwit the murderous acrobat or was the acrobat actually a private detective working undercover in a circus seeking to outwit a completely different villain in another series.
It gets harder when bit part actors turn up in a rerun of an old series and also as the star of a completely new spy series.
My dear wife and I have found the best way round this.
We either wait for a complete series to finish taping and then watch it over a couple of days or, once the first episode has recorded we bookmark the rest of the series enabling us to watch that one over a short period.
The trouble with this is that you have to make sure you don’t get any spoilers from other tv shows, such as BBC Breakfast where the presenters even do stories on new programmes on rival channels.
This is why we came somewhat late to Mr Bates vs the Post Office, an extremely good four-part series about the Post Office scandal which is on nearly everyone’s lips at the moment.
Like most people I had only picked up bits and bobs of the original story as more and more sub-postmasters faced charges of theft or falsifying accounts or other strange charges involving computers and monetary transactions.
I had taken a rather closer interest in this ITV drama because my late mother lived in Craig-y-Don, Llandudno, and my sister still lives there, and Alan Bates, the pivotal character in this programme, ran their local Post Office. Both of them would have been in his Post Office regularly.
As I watched this programme I began to realise that this was far more than isolated sub-postmasters spread across the country fiddling the books or falling foul of a dodgy bit of computer software.
Yes, the computer company may have had dodgy software.
Yes, now and again a sub postmaster might have skimmed cash.
The numbers across the country being hit by a computer glitch is as unlikely as a vast number of people in the same job stealing money.
What really got to me, however, was the arrogance of the Post Office executives lying about the number of cases blamed on the software system, claiming they were isolated incidents and that nobody else had reported similar cases.
Since the programme the publicity around this case has sky-rocketed and a lot of that publicity is centred on the actions of the CEO with a million-signature demand for her to return her CBE.
I am not seeking to defend her in any way. If her actions are as bad as they appear to be then she should not be asked to return her CBE she should be instructed to return it and then there should be a thorough investigation into her possible culpability in the case.
The point is that this has been going on, apparently, for over 20 years and under more than one Post Office CEO. What is more it has been going on under not just one government but under three different ones: Labour, under Blair and Brown; Tory/Lib Dem, under Cameron with Clegg as deputy; then a Tory government under Cameron May, Johnson, Truss and Sunak.
It is time the government and the Post Office were removed from the current investigation and that the whole thing be handed over to an independent investigative body.
by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Nothing is so beautiful as spring -
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glossy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue, that blue is all in a rush
With richness; those racing lambs too have fair their fling.
What is all this juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth's sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden. - Have, get, before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
Most O maid's child, thy choice and worthy the winning.
Hopalong, one of our foxes, has been a worry for some time
As I have mentioned, I first noticed his state at the beginning of November.
He had always been a timid fox, peeping out from the undergrowth and checking if it was safe before emerging fully toi feed.
It was November, however, that I noticed that his coat looked manky and his tail sparse, and that he favoured his back right paw.
His coat and tail improved but his leg seemed to give him trouble and towards the end of November he was not even putting it down and soon the lower part of the leg appeared to be dangling and the paw did not reach the ground.
Yet he seemed to manage, even though he was often late to the table.
Towards the end of December he only appeared spasmodically and by Christmas and then the New Year he did not appear at all.
I feared the worst that either the leg had gone gangrenous or, that having difficulty getting around he had been hit by a vehicle or had been unable to get around and had died alone and hungry,
Then, joy of joy, a brief sight of him coming late to the table and then on Saturday he turned up, getting about easily on three legs, and arriving within half-an-hour of the food going out.
For the next 20 minutes he had a fine time picking lumps of meat and other tasty treats from the table, nipping off somewhere to eat it in peace before returning for seconds and thirds.
I still worry about him but whatever has happened to his leg he seems to have survived two months, and winter months at that, so I’ll just have to keep my fingers crossed.
by Dame Mary Gilmore
I am he,
who paved the way,
that you might walk
at your ease today;
I was the conscript
sent to hell
to make in the desert
the living well;
I bore the heat,
I blazed the track -
furrowed and bloody
upon my back.
I split the rock;
I felled the tree:
The nation was -
Because of me!
Old Botany Bay
Taking the sun
from day to day ...
shame on the mouth
that would deny
the knotted hands
that set us high!
by Frank Foy
A sabbath hush pervades the summer day,
As seated here beside the shining sands,
I gaze on once again the arid lands,
That weed-besprinkled westward stretch away;
The waves that wash the beach about me lay
Smooth mirrors in their track, and vast expands
The stream's majestic breast, to where upstands
Fair Venice in her groves beside her bay.
And so serenely on the sands of gold
I lie and listen to the beat of wave
And boom of wind, and watch the river-gleams;
Then seas of slumber are about me rolled,
And as within their waters deep I lave,
The scene before me fades and floats away in dreams.
Twelfth Night already and I can’t figure out where the first five days of this New Year have gone.
I didn’t set any New Year resolutions this year, even though in the past I used to, even if it was only two or three. You know the sort:
I promise to lose at least two stone this year
I promise to spend less time playing on my computer
I promise not to be mean to Tory MPs
Actually from January 2022 to June 2023 I lost over three stone and brought my waist down from a 44 to a 38. Mind you it has cost me a lot getting new trousers and jeans. It also means that my four really good suits no longer fit and my really smart evening suit, along with two evening shirts, just hangs off me. I just can’t bear to let them go.
The weight loss came about via a new medication my doctor put me on to tackle Type 2 diabetes. It helps control the amount you eat and all it needs is one injection – well not really injection, it works like those epi pens – a week.
It is called Ozempic and was wonderful.
I say “was” because at the moment my pharmacy (and others all over the country) can not get hold of it.
Why?
Because it was so good as a weight loss medication that porky celebrities all over the world decided to use it to shed weight easily and were prepared to pay well for the privilege.
This has caused a worldwide shortage so that diabetics like myself can no longer obtain it on prescription and there was no way I, and thousands of others, could afford to get it privately.
Anyway, that’s why I am not making any rash promises about weight.
As to the second promise, well I don’t really play on the computer and haven’t since around 1980 when I got my first one. By computer I mean anything from a mobile phone to a laptop to a desktop.
They are useful as long as you remain in charge but can be addictive if you let yourself fall into their devious clutches. Anyway, I remain master of my machines rather than slave to them.
If you really want to understand the hidden dangers of machine technology then I suggest you read the Dune books of Frank Herbert, and those of his son which cover the past and the future of his father’s core novel.
As to the third resolution – well it’s not one I could ever achieve.
Be honest, after 13 years of them and already into the 14th who would ever consider being nice to any MP, let alone just Tory MPs.
No, my only resolution this year is to take life as it comes.
Enjoy the time I share with my darling wife, and my family and friends, even if contact is mainly done by mobile phone these days.
Have a Great 2024 and let’s look forward to seeing 2025.
by George Eliot
Two lovers by a moss-grown spring:
They leaned soft cheeks together there,
Mingled the dark and sunny hair,
And heard the wooing thrushes sing.
O budding time!
O love's blest prime!
Two wedded from the portal stept:
The bells made happy carolings,
The air was soft as fanning wings,
White petals on the pathway slept.
O pure-eyed bride!
O tender pride!
Two faces o'er a cradle bent:
Two hands above the head were locked:
These pressed each other while they rocked,
Those watched a life that love had sent.
O solemn hour!
O hidden power!
Two parents by the evening fire:
The red light fell about their knees
On heads that rose by slow degrees
Like buds upon the lily spire.
O patient life!
O tender strife!
The two still sat together there,
The red light shone about their knees;
But all the heads by slow degrees
Had gone and left that lonely pair.
O joyous fast!
O vanished past!
The red light shone upon the floor
And made the space between them wide;
They drew their chairs up side by side,
Their pale cheeks joined, and said, "Once more!"
O memories!
O past that is!
by Roald Dahl
In England once there lived a big
And wonderfully clever pig.
To everybody it was plain
That Piggy had a massive brain.
He worked out sums inside his head,
There was no book he hadn't read.
He knew what made an airplane fly,
He knew how engines worked, and why.
He knew all this, but in the end
One question drove him round the bend:
He simply couldn't puzzle out
What LIFE was really all about.
What was the reason for his birth.
Why was he placed upon this earth?
His giant birth went round and round.
Alas no answer could be found.
Till suddenly one wondrous night.
All in a flash he saw the light.
He jumped up like a ballet dancer
And yelled, "By gum, I've got the answer."
"They want my bacon slice by slice
"To sell at a tremendous price!
"They want my tender juicy chops
"To put in all the butcher's shops!
"They want my pork to make a roast
"And that's the part'll cost the most!
"They want my sausages in strings!
"They even want my chitterlings!
"The butcher's shop! The carving knife!
"That is the reason for my life!"
Such thoughts as these are not designed
To give a pig great piece of mind.
Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,
A pail of pigswill in his hand,
And piggy with a mighty roar
Bashes the farmer to the floor ...
Next comes the rather grizzly bit
So let's not make too much of it,
Except that you must understand
That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland.
He ate him up from head to toe
Chewing the pieces nice and slow,
It took an hour to reach the feet,
Because there was so much to eat,
And when he finished, Pig, of course,
Felt absolutely no remorse.
Slowly he scratched his brainy head
And with a little smile he said,
"I had a very powerful hunch
"That he might have me for his lunch.
'And so, because I feared the worst,
"I thought I'd better eat him first."
by Colley Cibber
O say what is that thing called light,
Which I can ne'er enjoy?
What is the blessing of the sight?
O tell your poor blind boy!
You talk of wond'rous things you see.
You say the sun shines bright!
I feel him warm, but how can he
Then make it day or night?
My day or night myself I make
Whene'er I make or play;
And could I ever keep awake,
It would be always day.
With heavy sighs I often hear
You mourn my hopeless woe.
But sure with patience I may bear
A loss I ne'er can know.
Then let not what I cannot have
My cheer of mind destroy.
Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,
Although a poor blind boy!
Robin's Nest