HAPPY NEW YEAR JAMES!

James May, Ferrari owner!
Well, who would have guessed it?

Where Lies The Land?
Arthur Hugh Clough

Where lies the land to which the ship would go?
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know.
And where the land she travels from? Away,
Far, far behind, is all that they can say.

On sunny noons upon the deck's smooth face,
Linked arm in arm, how pleasant here to pace!
Or, o'er the stern reclining, watch below
The foaming wake far widening as we go.

On stormy nights while wild north-westers rave,
How proud a thing to fight with wind and wave!
The dripping sailor on the reeling mast
Exults to bear, and scorns to wish it past.

Where lies the land to which the ship would go?
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know.
And where the land she travels from? Away,
Far, far behind, is all that they can say.

Seasonal column from James about the snow this week!
(Here's my reply.)

My little old Celica took one look at the snow,
From behind her frozen windows I could hear her screaming, "Whoa",
There's no way that I'm going out, I'm not Torville or Dean,
It must be minus twenty, and you cannot be that mean!
Besides, some gormless vandal defiled me overnight,
Took my headlight rubbers, they're no longer watertight!
You'd have to thaw my locks out, not to mention dig the snow.
Please tell me, is there any place you really have to go?
Remember you'll be with me as we're sliding into town,
It's your dignity as well as mine when we've landed upside-down.

She really is a spoilt brat, she won, I chose another,
I fired up the Mondeo as I had to visit Mother.

In contrast there is Mr May,
High in the air like Santa's sleigh!
Gazing at the Christmas scene;
Whilst commenting on just how serene,
It all looks from his little plane,

Obviously he cant see me!
Elaine x

GIFSoup


Top Gear Bolivia
Brilliant as expected!

Passing By
Anon

There is a Lady sweet and kind,
Was never face so pleased my mind;
I did but see her passing by,
And yet I love her till I die.

Her gesture, motion and her smiles,
Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, I know not why,
And yet I love her till I die.

Cupid is wingéd and doth range,
Her country so my love doth change:
But change she earth, or change she sky,
Yet will I love her till I die.

Congratulations James! - Top Gear named favourite TV show‎

TV hit Top Gear has been named the nation's favourite television programme of the decade.

The Undertaking
by John Donne

I have done one braver thing
Than all the Worthies did ;
And yet a braver thence doth spring,
Which is, to keep that hid.

It were but madness now to impart
The skill of specular stone,
When he, which can have learn'd the art
To cut it, can find none.

So, if I now should utter this,
Others (because no more
Such stuff to work upon, there is)
Would love but as before.

But he who loveliness within
Hath found, all outward loathes,
For he who colour loves, and skin,
Loves but their oldest clothes.

If, as I have, you also do
Virtue attired in woman see,
And dare love that, and say so too,
And forget the He and She ;

And if this love, though placèd so,
From profane men you hide,
Which will no faith on this bestow,
Or, if they do, deride ;

Then you have done a braver thing
Than all the Worthies did ;
And a braver thence will spring,
Which is, to keep that hid.

How like a winter hath my absence been
William Shakespeare Sonnet 97

How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness every where!
And yet this time removed was summer's time,
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:
Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me
But hope of orphans and unfather'd fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute;
Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.

Merry Christmas to the BFS.
I'm re-posting this for those of you who recognise the acronym BFG but who may be unfamiliar with BFS. Now the JMB, James' fan site will recognise it immediately.
James loves his Blue Flowery Shirt and pays tribute to it in the
introduction to his Car Fever book. Here's my tribute ;-)

Ode to the BFS

You match me in paleness, the blue of my eyes,
You hold me, enfold me, caressing my thighs,
By you I am comforted, safe and secure,
You save me from demons, no fear anymore.
My constant companion wherever I roam
Be it over the ocean or nearer to home.

You have your own place in the hearts of the few
who acknowledge the significance that I give you.
I've loved you so long that you're part of me now,
I'll never discard you, I'll honour this vow.
My magical talisman, fame-bringer, friend,
Your story's a legend that never will end.

Maid of Astolat

Merry Christmas James
Wishing you health, happiness and continuing success for 2010,
with love from Elaine x

Sic Vita

LIKE to the falling of a star,
Or as the flights of eagles are,
Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue,
Or silver drops of morning dew,
Or like a wind that chafes the flood,
Or bubbles which on water stood:
Even such is man, whose borrowed light
Is straight called in, and paid to night.
The wind blows out, the bubble dies;
The spring entombed in autumn lies;
The dew dries up, the star is shot;
The flight is past: and man forgot.

Henry King, Bishop of Chichester

The Fair Singer
by Andrew Marvell

To make a final conquest of all me,
Love did compose so sweet an enemy,
In whom both beauties to my death agree,
Joining themselves in fatal harmony;
That while she with her eyes my heart does bind,
She with her voice might captivate my mind.

I could have fled from one but singly fair:
My disentangled soul itself might save,
Breaking the curled trammels of her hair.
But how should I avoid to be her slave,
When subtle art invisibly can wreathe
My fetters of the very air I breathe?

It had been easy fighting in some plain,
Where victory might hang in equal choice,
But all resistance against her is vain,
Who has th' advantage both of eyes and voice;
And all my forces needs must be undone,
She having gained both the wind and sun.

Song
John Gay. 1688–1732

O RUDDIER than the cherry!
O sweeter than the berry!
O nymph more bright
Than moonshine night,
Like kidlings blithe and merry!
Ripe as the melting cluster!
No lily has such lustre;
Yet hard to tame
As raging flame,
And fierce as storms that bluster!

Give us a kiss for Christmas!

Spellbound
Emily Jane Bronte

The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.

London Snow

by Robert Bridges

When men were all asleep the snow came flying,
In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:
Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.
All night it fell, and when full inches seven
It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,
The clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven;
And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness
Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare:
The eye marvelled - marvelled at the dazzling whiteness;
The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air;
No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling,
And the busy morning cries came thin and spare.
Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling,
They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze
Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing;
Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees;
Or peering up from under the white-mossed wonder!'
'O look at the trees!' they cried, 'O look at the trees!'
With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder,
Following along the white deserted way,
A country company long dispersed asunder:
When now already the sun, in pale display
Standing by Paul's high dome, spread forth below
His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day.
For now doors open, and war is waged with the snow;
And trains of sombre men, past tale of number,
Tread long brown paths, as toward their toil they go:
But even for them awhile no cares encumber
Their minds diverted; the daily word is unspoken,
The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber
At the sight of the beauty that greets them, for the charm they have broken.

Bethsabe's Song
 George Peele

Hot sun, cool fire, tempered with sweet air,
Black shade, fair nurse, shadow my white hair.
Shine, sun; burn, fire; breathe, air, and ease me;
Black shade, fair nurse, shroud me and please me.
Shadow, my sweet nurse, keep me from burning;
Make not my glad cause cause of mourning.
Let not my beauty’s fire
Inflame unstaid desire,
Nor pierce any bright eye
That wandereth lightly.

Shut Out that Moon
Thomas Hardy

Close up the casement, draw the blind,
Shut out that stealing moon,
She wears too much the guise she wore
Before our lutes were strewn
With years-deep dust, and names we read
On a white stone were hewn.

Step not forth on the dew-dashed lawn
To view the Lady's Chair,
Immense Orion's glittering form,
The Less and Greater Bear:
Stay in; to such sights we were drawn
When faded ones were fair.

Brush not the bough for midnight scent
That come forth lingeringly,
And wake the same sweet sentiments
They breathed to you and me
When living seemed a laugh, a love
All it was said to be.

Within the common lamp-lit room
Prison my eyes and thought;
Let dingy details crudely loom,
Mechanic speech he wrought:
Too fragrant was Life's early bloom,
Too tart the fruit it brought!

FALSE THOUGH SHE BE

by: William Congreve

FALSE though she be to me and love,
I'll ne'er pursue revenge;
For still the charmer I approve,
Though I deplore her change.

In hours of bliss we oft have met:
They could not always last;
And though the present I regret,
I'm grateful for the past.

Winter Seascape
by John Betjeman

The sea runs back against itself
With scarcely time for breaking wave
To cannonade a slatey shelf
And thunder under in a cave.

Before the next can fully burst
The headwind, blowing harder still,
Smooths it to what it was at first -
A slowly rolling water-hill.

Against the breeze the breakers haste,
Against the tide their ridges run
And all the sea's a dappled waste
Criss-crossing underneath the sun.

Far down the beach the ripples drag
Blown backward, rearing from the shore,
And wailing gull and shrieking shag
Alone can pierce the ocean roar.

Unheard, a mongrel hound gives tongue,
Unheard are shouts of little boys;
What chance has any inland lung
Against this multi-water noise?

Here where the cliffs alone prevail
I stand exultant, neutral, free,
And from the cushion of the gale
Behold a huge consoling sea.

James at his Toy Fair 28-11-09


Thanks to cat for the pic

First Love

I ne'er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start --
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter's choice?
Is love's bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love's appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more

John Clare

The Confirmation
by Edwin Muir

Yes, yours, my love, is the right human face,
I in my mind had waited for this long.
Seeing the false and searching the true,
Then I found you as a traveller finds a place
Of welcome suddenly amid the wrong
Valleys and rocks and twisting roads.
But you, what shall I call you?
A fountain in a waste.
A well of water in a country dry.
Or anything that's honest and good, an eye
That makes the whole world bright.
Your open heart simple with giving, give the primal deed.
The first good world, the blossom, the blowing seed.
The hearth, the steadfast land, the wandering sea,
Not beautiful or rare in every part
But like yourself, as they were meant to be.

No column to hold me up
-------------------------
That tent that you saw at the top of your street,
Was me camping out, hoping that I would meet
You passing that way, but I got a bad chest
just before my arrest. I'd forgotten my vest.

Got my Mrs May T-shirt and pillow and knickers
Who cares if they have inappropriate stickers!
There's shopping bags, magnets and badges galore,
I just keep buying more,
On some can I say that you look really rough!
Ooh! I can't get enough of this Mr May stuff.

In the next day or two a delivery truck
Will deliver two tons of those gums that you suck,
It's possible that it might just cause a jam,
As it's also unloading the five tons of Spam.
The Ferrari I got you will soon be arriving
Mid life crisis averted re the car you'll be driving!

The registry office I've now gone and booked
Your, so busy schedule I've not overlooked.
Friday at two, or Monday three, Tuesday four,
The guys from 'Hello' say they'll wait by the door.
Consider the car as a small wedding gift,
I'm now stony broke. Could you give me a lift?
So, I will wear puce and I think we should match,
I bet even Jordan will envy my catch.

Right!
Cancel the wedding, found out my worse fears,
Apparently you've had a nice girlfriend for years!
That's it I'm afraid, I just can't be a fan,
I've heard Doctor Who is a very nice man.
Can I have the Ferrari? It's important the car is,
Seems all the doc's got is a thing called a Tardis.

Elaine x

Tell me not here, it needs not saying
Alfred Edward Housman

Tell me not here, it needs not saying,
What tune the enchantress plays
In aftermaths of soft September
Or under blanching mays,
For she and I were long acquainted
And I knew all her ways.

On russet floors, by waters idle,
The pine lets fall its cone;
The cuckoo shouts all day at nothing
In leafy dells alone;
And traveller’s joy beguiles in autumn
Hearts that have lost their own.

On acres of the seeded grasses
The changing burnish heaves;
Or marshalled under moons of harvest
Stand still all night the sheaves;
Or beeches strip in storms for winter
And stain the wind with leaves.

Possess, as I possessed a season,
The countries I resign,
Where over elmy plains the highway
Would mount the hills and shine,
And full of shade the pillared forest
Would murmur and be mine.

For nature, heartless, witless nature,
Will neither care nor know
What stranger’s feet may find the meadow
And trespass there and go,
Nor ask amid the dews of morning
If they are mine or no.

Hello James,

RetroMaynia

Looking from a woman's point of view,
Whatever are we going to do with you?
Bet poor Woman wonders what she's got,
As man with tectonic plate equals...
Real crackpot!

Eclectic kitchen contents?
You're just like my old mum.
She's got gadgets and cracked plates dating from 1931.
Your Woman's oh so tolerant,
Finds humouring is best,
Perhaps SHE'd like white crockery?
Please put her to the test.
Perhaps she's working her way down,
by starting with the attic.
And that is why the kitchen still,
Appears to be quite static.
Although I believe she infiltrated,
(To the juicer I'm refering,)
Ooh! please pass me my wooden spoon,
I love a bit of stirring. ;-)

As for your little Honda banger,
What about a plinth in the Top Gear hangar?
Ooh, Mr Clarkson would really love that!
Vietnam memories of the times he went splat!
Wouldn't you just love to see his face,
If your chugging little Honda had pride of place.

Elaine x

To the Moon

Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth, -
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Thank you Honeyfitz for the great photo of James at MPH.

The Power of Words
Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Tis a strange mystery, the power of words!
Life is in them, and death. A word can send
The crimson colour hurrying to the cheek.
Hurrying with many meanings; or can turn
The current cold and deadly to the heart.
Anger and fear are in them; grief and joy
Are on their sound; yet slight, impalpable:--
A word is but a breath of passing air.

Meeting James May.

I travelled down to London last week to meet James for the second time. He was signing his 'Toy Stories' book. He was very sweet and complimented my poetic endeavours. Thank you James. All this is dedicated to and inspired by you. I hope you like my poetry choices. Elaine x

Sonnet to Hope

O, ever skilled to wear the form we love!
To bid the shapes of fear and grief depart;
Come, gentle Hope! with one gay smile remove
The lasting sadness of an aching heart.
Thy voice, benign Enchantress! let me hear;
Say that for me some pleasures yet shall bloom,--
That Fancy's radiance, Friendship's precious tear,
Shall soften, or shall chase, misfortune's gloom.
But come not glowing in the dazzling ray,
Which once with dear illusions charm'd my eye,--
O! strew no more, sweet flatterer! on my way
The flowers I fondly thought too bright to die;
Visions less fair will soothe my pensive breast,
That asks not happiness, but longs for rest!

Helen Maria Williams

THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.
Joanna Baillie

Braced in the sinewy vigour of thy breed,
In pride of generous strength, thou stately steed,
Thy broad chest to the battle's front is given,
Thy mane fair floating to the winds of heaven.
Thy champing hoofs the flinty pebbles break;
Graceful the rising of thine arched neck.
White churning foam thy chaffed bits enlock;
And from thy nostril bursts the curling smoke.
Thy kindling eye-balls brave the glaring south;
And dreadful is the thunder of thy mouth:
Whilst low to earth thy curving haunches bend,
Thy sweepy tail involved in clouds of sand;
Erect in air thou rear'st thy front of pride,
And ring'st the plated harness on thy side.
But, lo! what creature, goodly to the sight,
Dares thus bestride thee, chaffing in thy might?
Of portly stature, and determin'd mien?
Whose dark eye dwells beneath a brow serene?
And forward looks unmoved to fields of death,
And smiling, gently strokes thee in thy wrath?
Whose brandished falchion dreaded gleams afar?
It is a British soldier, armed for war!

Hello James,
"But I can only write what the muse allows me to write. I cannot choose,
I can only do what I am given, and I feel pleased when I feel close to concrete poetry - still."
Ian Hamilton Finlay
----------------------------

Amuse my Muse
------------
After much deliberation,
Infinite examinations,
I've come to the conclusion,
The answer lies in combinations.

Now I don't mean what great grandad wore
When draughts did in the winter draw.
I'm talking of grey matter, crikey!
I'll go all posh and say, the psyche.

Nothing can quite bring together
More adroitly than the brain,
Countless subtle, diverse sensations,
Perfection snapshots to attain.

When,
things come together at critical moments,
Providing experiences you can't define,
Captured in time and later recalled,
(You're always enthralled,)
Treasures, unmeasurable, unique and sublime.

Quintessential Porsche therefore could be defined,
When awareness is heightened and forces aligned,
Image, speed, power - all senses applied,
Colliding convergences intensified.
The muse has inspired, I think you will find,
Brought altogether by the power of the mind.

Elaine x

I'll change highways in a while, at the crossroads, one more mile.
My path is lit by my own fire. I'm going only where I desire.

Remembrance Sunday

Hello James, - Tea's up!
--------------
"The saddest thing I can imagine is to get used to luxury."
Charlie Chaplin

"Never trust a man who, when left alone in a room
with a tea cozy, doesn't try it on." Billy Connolly

Now I love tea and tea loves me
Except that it makes me want to...
be forever finding,
and this bit grieves,
ways of recycling spent tea leaves.
Good for the garden that's where they should go,
That's if I can be ars.. bothered to throw
them out when it's raining
and I've got bare feet,
so usually at this point I tend to cheat
and try to flush them down the sink,
then make myself another drink!

So Mr May, according to you
You're always making this tasty brew,
The burning question is,
I want to know,
Where do all your tea leaves go?
Do you like me
shove them down the sink
and block it up and make it stink?
I suppose that I should use my strainer,
leave them to dry out on the drainer.
Then bag them up,
add raspberry,
and sell them off as herbal tea!

Elaine x

Piano

Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.

In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.

So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.

D. H. Lawrence

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death
W.B. Yeats

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

Hebridean holiday


Love's Philosophy
by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle—
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea—
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?

In a Boat
by D. H. Lawrence

See the stars, love,
In the water much clearer and brighter
Than those above us, and whiter,
Like nenuphars.

Star-shadows shine, love,
How many stars in your bowl?
How many shadows in your soul,
Only mine, love, mine?

When I move the oars, love,
See how the stars are tossed,
Distorted, the brightest lost.
—So that bright one of yours, love.

The poor waters spill
The stars, waters broken, forsaken.
—The heavens are not shaken, you say, love,
Its stars stand still.

There, did you see
That spark fly up at us; even
Stars are not safe in heaven.
—What of yours, then, love, yours?

What then, love, if soon
Your light be tossed over a wave?
Will you count the darkness a grave,
And swoon, love, swoon?