Peter, if I cheer Ruth up then so be it you jealous little snake! I feel I have done something good for the day after all. Ruth's lovely, so there!! By the way, don't you think that Ruth looks a bit like the 'dark haired one' in the Sheila's Wheels advert? Phoarrrh!

Andy, as you now know, I'm still here watching and waiting for the slip-up. Maybe the odd bit of sand in your socks or something similar! As for asking Lyn what she was having for dinner, well that's rude! Why? Because we pensioners can't afford a decent meal under this rotten Brown Government! Thinks....wait for it!

Dare I offer this poem for you to read?

THE LITTLE HOUSE

I sit and I survey the scene:

The little house, midst pastures green;

Its doorstep, where I sit to look

Towards the softly murm'ring brook;

The cottage garden with its flowers,

Where I spend many happy hours

Watching the bees flit to and fro,

Collecting honey as they go.

Down by the fence, a stand of trees:

Stout sentinels upon the leas;

Observers from a bygone age-

What could they write on life's blank page?

Their shade, wherein I rest from heat

And from the careless world retreat,

As through the leafy glade I walk,

And with the Lord of Nature talk.

The birds which from the copse do fly;

Their anthems ring and fill the sky:

Their song delights my weary soul

And in my sadness makes me whole;

The quiet pond where duckling pass

In convoy, as upon the grass

I lie, beside the swaying reed

To watch a myriad creatures feed;

The waters where I sometimes fish,

Hopeful to catch a supper dish,

Which I will clean and wife will bake,

Before ourselves to rest we take.

My eyes, they wander far and wide,

Around the peaceful countryside,

Unchanged, yet ever changing too,

Was e'er man blessed with finer view?

And as I sit, and quiet gaze,

In this the twilight of my days,

I see the Hand of God abroad,

And view the wonders of the Lord.

Earth has not anything more fair

Than hive of bee, or foxes lair;

Nor hills, nor trees, both standing tall:

His Peace and Love o'ershadows all.

In silence I survey the scene:

The little house, the meadows green,

The birds and garden, stream and wood,

Unite to sing that God is good.

So as I sit and think, I find

Peace and contentment fill my mind:

Most Gracious Lord, I'll never roam,

If You will bless...

my little home.

I like poetry and the feelings that it envokes. Here are some of my favourites.

English of course.

William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or natures changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest,
Nor shall death brag thou wandrest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Author unknown

When God had made the earth and sky
the flowers and the trees,
He then made all the animals
the fish, the birds and bees.
And when at last He'd finished
not one was quite the same.
He said, "I'll walk this world of mine
and give each one a name."

And so He traveled far and wide
and everywhere He went,
a little creature followed Him
until it's strength was spent.

When all were named upon the earth
and in the sky and sea,
the little creature said,
"Dear Lord,
there's not one left for me."

Kindly, the Father said to him,
"I've left you to the end.
I've turned my own name back to front
and called you dog, My friend."