I reckon that my daughter might think that I'm an admirer of Mr May.
She bought me this canvas for Christmas!

In the summer I revisited the Outer Hebrides and went back to a favourite spot to watch and film the salmon jumping. There was a film crew there.
I've just watched Three Men Go To Scotland on BBC2 and guess what?
I was actually filming Rory McGrath, Dara o'Briain and Griff Rhys Jones!
Didn't recognise them from the back!
(took mostly movie film but here's a still)

Fatima
Alfred Tennyson

O LOVE, Love, Love! O withering might!
O sun, that from thy noonday height
Shudderest when I strain my sight,
Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light,
Lo, falling from my constant mind,
Lo, parch'd and wither'd, deaf and blind,
I whirl like leaves in roaring wind.

Last night I wasted hateful hours
Below the city's eastern towers:
I thirsted for the brooks, the showers:
I roll'd among the tender flowers:
I crush'd them on my breast, my mouth;
I look'd athwart the burning drouth
Of that long desert to the south.

Last night, when some one spoke his name,
From my swift blood that went and came
A thousand little shafts of flame
Were shiver'd in my narrow frame.
O Love, O fire! once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul thro'
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.

Before he mounts the hill, I know
He cometh quickly: from below
Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow
Before him, striking on my brow.
In my dry brain my spirit soon,
Down-deepening from swoon to swoon,
Faints like a daled morning moon.

The wind sounds like a silver wire,
And from beyond the noon a fire
Is pour'd upon the hills, and nigher
The skies stoop down in their desire;
And, isled in sudden seas of light,
My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight,
Bursts into blossom in his sight.

My whole soul waiting silently,
All naked in a sultry sky,
Droops blinded with his shining eye:
I will possess him or will die.
I will grow round him in his place,
Grow, live, die looking on his face,
Die, dying clasp'd in his embrace.

Merry Christmas to James
and anyone popping in over the holiday.

Another e-present for you!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2yaOOMTqofo

You know how to make my Christmas happy!

The Mistress
John Wilmot Earl of Rochester

An age in her embraces passed
Would seem a winter's day;
When life and light, with envious haste,
Are torn and snatched away.

But, oh! how slowly minutes roll.
When absent from her eyes
That feed my love, which is my soul,
It languishes and dies.

For then no more a soul but shade
It mournfully does move
And haunts my breast, by absence made
The living tomb of love.

You wiser men despise me not,
Whose love-sick fancy raves
On shades of souls and Heaven knows what;
Short ages live in graves.

Whene'er those wounding eyes, so full
Of sweetness, you did see,
Had you not been profoundly dull,
You had gone mad like me.

Nor censure us, you who perceive
My best beloved and me
Sign and lament, complain and grieve;
You think we disagree.

Alas, 'tis sacred jealousy,
Love raised to an extreme;
The only proof 'twixt her and me,
We love, and do not dream.

Fantastic fancies fondly move
And in frail joys believe,
Taking false pleasure for true love;
But pain can ne'er deceive.

Kind jealous doubts, tormenting fears,
And anxious cares when past,
Prove our heart's treasure fixed and dear,
And make us blessed at last.

THE MOON
Percy Bysshe Shelley

The snow upon my lifeless mountains
Is loosened into living fountains,
My solid oceans flow, and sing and shine:
A spirit from my heart bursts forth,
It clothes with unexpected birth
My cold bare bosom: Oh! it must be thine
On mine, on mine!

Gazing on thee I feel, I know
Green stalks burst forth, and bright flowers grow,
And living shapes upon my bosom move:
Music is in the sea and air,
Winged clouds soar here and there,
Dark with the rain new buds are dreaming of:
'Tis love, all love!

To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Nothing
William Butler Yeats

Now all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
From any brazen throat,
For how can you compete,
Being honour bred, with one
Who, were it proved he lies,
Were neither shamed in his own
Nor in his neighbours' eyes?
Bred to a harder thing
Than Triumph, turn away
And like a laughing string
Whereon mad fingers play
Amid a place of stone,
Be secret and exult,
Because of all things known
That is most difficult.

Favourite word at the moment - schism

Was watching a most interesting programme this morning on the construction and testing of the Bugatti Veyron. Only 14 titanium bolts hold the front and back together! The testing on the now familiar 'secret'
track was somewhat bland after seeing the fantastic camera work of the Top Gear team. The car featured was sporting my favourite colour combination of black and red. Magnificent!

Dejection: An Ode
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (part only)

’Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep:
Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!
Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing,
And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling,
Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth!
With light heart may she rise,
Gay fancy, cheerful eyes,
Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice;
To her may all things live, from pole to pole,
Their life the eddying of her living soul!
O simple spirit, guided from above,
Dear Lady! friend devoutest of my choice,
Thus mayest thou ever, evermore rejoice.

The Door
Felix Dennis

I hammered hard upon the door confused,
            My soul in pain:
"What! Am I to be thus abused,
        A pilgrim in the rain?

A dragon-fly with wings still yet to dry
             From Mammon's mire,
May yet outshine a butterfly
       And set the lake a-fire."

But as I raved and battered at the keep
      A voice within
Spoke sweetly to my troubled sleep:
       "Twas never locked -
              Come in."

Ice Queen
(mine)

Cold-hearted queen,
ice in my heart,
Snow drifting, tower high,
keeps us apart.
Feed me your warmth,
melt down this wall.
Needing your love,
forever your thrall.

A Drinking Song
William Butler Yeats

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

"I wish I could remember that first day"
Christina Rossetti

I wish I could remember that first day,
First hour, first moment of your meeting me,
If bright or dim the season, it might be
Summer or Winter for aught I can say;
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and to foresee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom yet for many a May.
If only I could recollect it, such
A day of days! I let it come and go
As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow;
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much;
If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand in hand – Did one but know!

An early e-present for Christmas!

Col is having a rough time getting about in the snow this week. He said it was that deep, it was up to his orifices! And! - He staggered out of the pub wearing some bird's hat. Good job he had the dark glasses so that no one recognised him.

This is how I feel...

I hate snow!
Thanks to Helen for the pics - you are right, he does look gorgeous!

Think the lawn wants mowing!

Failed to get to London today to the booksigning, so woe is me.
Ridiculously disappointed.
Damn British Weather!

The old Celica looks snug!