Monthly Archives: December 2017

Goodbye to 2017!

Sometimes it’s hard to say goodbye,

As they seem to ruin the moment,the feeling.

People who we’ve said goodbye too in death,

Oh how hard that is:wish we had had more time.

Just a few more hours,minutes even,just a few more,

These words that appear to be drawn in the sand are far from bland.

My I-pad says 23:32,28 minutes to go until 2018,

Oh,those numbers won’t lie,time moves ever forward.

I wish it didn’t,I wish I’d said more,I wish that I wasn’t so wrapped up in me,

Fore loss ,bereavement,emptiness isn’t a destiny,it’s a dungeon mine.

Truly ,those who have lost ,have had the minutes cheated from their grasp,they know,

Their unuttered words,emotions,sentiments sooth us in a soup of empathy.

Fore if we were to forget those whom we have lost,what human strain could we really claim,

Our boasts of education,eridite intelligence,wisdom we say is just baseless.

So,I hold unto the memories of this year,with all its pit like fears,

Fore in that memory comes a starkness of the telling of them.

We must not forget them,any of their foibles,their character traits,their mental meanderings ,

No,they will live in our telling,our breathe,our smiles,our music,our truth.

So now it’s but 19 minutes before the glasses are raised,the fireworks blaze,the old year erased,

But to us who have lost,it can’t ever be,it can’t ,it can’t,it can’t.

As true as the wind doth blow,and the right of passage of the young doth glow,we will compare ,

We will compare our young with them,see them in our own kith and kin and rejoice.

For now,now in the 15 minutes of silence ,I invite you to remember your lost,you kith and kin ,

and I invite you to see them in your own,rejoice that they will live on in your own.

Silently,now,but for these few minutes,I stop writing.

Happy new year and don’t forget those who you have lost because they will shape your future.



My New Years vigil!

On this day of New Year’s Eve ,it is usually quite a low key affair for this 60 year old ,with not too much to get excited about.Maybe,that is how it should be,or it’s the way it is.Personally,because I have dogs-one being very much u dear the weather of late with an ear infection -I find the proliferation of fireworks at midnight a big challenge.Now ,I’m not a party pooper in any way,but when you have animals,they tend to be spooked by loud bangs,as their hearing is so sensitive and these sudden bangs which tend to start from say just gone eleven,right on to way past midnight,makes it a very heavy. Night,but not for the obvious reasons associated with the season.

So,if this appears to be a rant,then I’m sorry for that,but animals deserve to have a good life as well as us humans,and I just wanted to devote my post this afternoon to their comfort,as animals give us humans oh so much affection and u co dictionary love.Our domesticated pets will always do their best for us,and maybe we should do our best always for them.For me,that includes trying to comfort them while these loud noises echo around in their heads.

It will be a late night for me tonight and I will raise a glass to a good 2018 as I comfort my pets into their new year too.

Thank you so very much.


Leslie C:”Come on down,you were priceless”

With one ear towards the television tonight,but with my heart harping back to another entertainer,I again explore the power of event associations that ,for me at least,seem to affect me quite profoundly.As this performer was in a completely different league to me than the presenter of the re born “The price is right”,Alan Carr,just the excitement engendered by this American game show made me think of him.

To me,Fridays at five to five meant Crackerjack,and the presenter Leslie Crowther.As a child ,I found the excitement of the programme. The lack of PC ,the abundance of mess,and slapstick quite addictive.Wether it came at the end of the week,or just that the sheer excitement and the noise captured my attention as a child ,or wether it was the personality of Leslie Crowther.Truthfully,after some thought,I feel that it was Leslie Crowther,and as Alan Carr tried to place his stamp on the programme this evening,it just didn’t seem to cut through to me like the original with Leslie .He had a voice that penetrated profoundly in my consciousness,somewhat like Richard Burton.Voice timbres have always had a great affect on me,and there are some voices that have that affect on me,and Crowther did that for me.Why just the way he would say:”It’s Friday,it’s five to five,and it’s Crackerjack”.

Now,this hearing one voice but thinking of another I suppose might appear to be very rude in real life can nversation,and I realise that.On a related matter,I have found that it also applies to me with music,in that,I can be listening to a piece f music,and then maybe another unrelated tune can pop into my mind at the same time.Unfortunately,I wish that they had an intelligent association,but so often they don’t.It is what it is really,but it fascinates me so very much,and I find it quite mentally playful.Now,others might defy me it as something of a weak mind,not being able to focus on one thing for any length or of time.

This mental muse might not be of interest to everyone Granted,but being curious about how my mind works helps me make sense of my fuzzy mind as such.Certain voices permeate my inner core,inviting me into their worlds ,e ticking me with their delicacies as such,their daintiest,their fruits of the word looms of their lives.Im glad really that certain personalities existed ,were apart of our past and it still fascinates me that a concept,all beit ,a game show ,can have such a journey into the voices of the past.

So,that is my muse for this night folks,and thank you for your indulgence.


Captain Slow !

One of our dogs,Dylan ,hasn’t been well ,leading to a visit to the visit,with Ear drops to be administered.As he is very sensitive about these being given,and with the treatment at the vets not really suiting him that much,he didn’t sleep at all well last night.Just like a teething baby,we had a sleepless night with constant checks as to his welfare .As a preparation for my regular 5k Parkrun,it wasn’t the best ,but I was proud that I did get to the starting line along with many hundreds of other would be gave a go athletes.

Now,wether it was the residue of too much Christmas food and wine ,or ,indeed,the lack of sleep from dog sitting,I k ow not,but I was very much captain slow as I headed around the course this morning.Fortunately ,it takes in the beautiful vistas of the moors valley country park,and those views ,along with the sterling examples of so many others who now act as my Saturday morning constant presence.Managing to crawl around the first 4K,the chalk indentation signally that I had reached this landmark was a welcome stimulus to reaching the finishing line but it didn’t really spur me on to increase my cadence as I felt quite spent at this point.However,as I approached around the 200 metre mark,I was so so encouraged by the appearance of one of my Facebook friends who was there giving us all so much moral support this morning.He has recently endured serious health problems ,leaving him hospitalised for quite a while,with all the attendant issues that this throws up.Truly,the sight of Paul Lambert ,his cheery face made all the difference,allowing me to forget my tiredness,my fatigue,my dog being ill,and just my own hang ups,and I truly felt inspired by his presence there,and his humanity shone through.This,to me at least,is the spirit of the Parkrun,and it allows me to identify with those sterling examples of folk who inspire me.

Yes,we all have our stories,our stuff,call it what you like,but others have stories too,and if we take the time to soak up their stories ,then we become just more rounded as humans.Granted,we all have to deal with our stuff,but surely ,it’s better to spend time around others and to learn from their spirit,their ways if you like.

So yes,I was very very much captain slow today,but I managed to complete the course,another 5k,and my 14th Parkrun.

Now,I’m slumped down in my armchair with my poorly dog on the sofa,and the other on the chair to my right.

Thank you for inspiring me by reading my daily muses,as it is truly appreciated.


Living with the rains!

Whenever heavy rain is present in my place of dwelling here in Dorset,I think not of this place,but the place of my birth and childhood,Cornwall.Like an magnetic current,it draws me to reminisce about the hinterland there,what I thought were places that I alone had discovered.Of course,my childish muses ,a mixture of fantasy and the over active imagination present in a working class member of a make believe famous five.Oddly enough,I don’t ever remember reading any of the books as a child,as books weren’t a constant in my early life ,more things I saw at school,or at the vicars manse .

Really,the rains that have drenched my town today conjure up memories of sheltering in very shallow caves around Tolcarne beach,or Great Western while I soaked up the sheer noise of the place.It struck me as natures sublime concert hall,and it still does.Why,recently ,while saying my goodbyes to my precious sister Donna,I returned to Newquay to the chapel of rest where she lay,and to clear my head,stopped off at Lusty Glaze ,sampling but for literally an hour the Atlantic conversation that is that wonderful coastline.Today,while clearing the guttering out on our bungalow during a lull in the downpours,I thought of that brief period .You See,Of all my sisters,Donna had an affinity with the sea,and would often comment on my frequent posts on social media about a certain aspect of the beaches along the Newquay coast.Its funny how you miss them,you knew that they were genuine and heartfelt.Why yes,we all like all sorts of things in our feeds,and I’m the foremost of that,but my sister had that ability to just say things with a gusto,a life ,supported by jest and joy that was so very precious.

Now,as this fuzzy Friday as I’ve termed it comes to its conclusion,I just wanted to highlight it in my muse because I feel that non of us can afford to forget those loved ones who have passed in death because we can’t ever replace them.Why,of course,we meet people,new ones who have their own flavours of character as it were,and maybe they see our flavours,like a little of what they sample,but we can’t ever truly replicate our loved ones.So,out of the heavy downpours today,I was grateful that it jolted memories of the sea ,and subsequently,memories of my sister Donna.

As a teenager,I grew to become quite obsessed with what I have called natures concert hall,and although,I’ve since listened to music in some truly wonderful arenas,I can honestly say that these sounds of waves,of breakers,of rivers,of estuaries,still affect me profoundly,causing an almost intimate relationship that kept me sitting there ,wave watching,when maybe I should have left because on the incoming tides.Even as I write those two words -incoming tides-my heart almost misses a beat ,and I internally digest the wholeness of those sounds.Now,that wonderful orchestral miniature by Malcolm Arnold:Padstow lifeboat is playing in my head,and ,although it’s not of gigantic proportions,it’s scoring attracts me because it touches me internally.When my son played the work as part of the orchestra that he was part of at the time,I told him about Padstow and about Malcolm Arnold and about the capturing of those precious moments.

We always need to remember those that lived in the moment ,because their jest for life drew us to soak up atmospheres,moods,textures,and spiritual milestones that won’t ever be eclipsed.

I’m glad that I listened to the sea as a young boy,and as a teenager,I’m glad I heard the mermaid singing,and the sea shanties sung in the pubs along the coast,because it garnered a love for the real,the imaginative,the plaintive,the soulful,the real.

Rest in peace Donna,thank you for the memories.

Is it really Friday?

Is it really Friday?

Cos ,it’s doesn’t seem like it,

It seems like a day that doesn’t exist,

Maybe,this Bermuda Triangle day in between news years eve and New Year’s Day is a new day,

But then,it isn’t New Years Eve ,is it?

Maybe,this day is rather like my rambling muse:Confused!

Do you get confused during that bit after Christmas and the New Year?

If you don’t,then your probably doing something far more productive and smart,

Not like me,trying to invent another name for a day that says it’s Friday,but feels like something else.

Post run update!

Well,from my tentative comments about getting out for a run this morning,I finally made it out this afternoon ,completing another 6 miles of my training plan in preparation for my half Marathon in London early next year.To say that I’m not extremely tired would be inaccurate to say the least if not an outright lie.However,I have a little seed of confidence growing that I can,t least,with co tinged effort reach my goal before the due date of the event.

Wearing my Royal Brompton and Harefield running vest helped me concentrate on why I am taking part at all really.My family has been associated with this hospital for well over 20 years now,and they have helped us through some extremelY traumatic times truth be told,allowing us to have precious years that ,without them,we wouldn’t have had.So,to run this event in aid of this charity is my small way of giving back to those Doctors and nurses who have contributed so profoundly to the lives of so many with complex Heart and Lung conditions.

Sometimes,with all that life throws up for each of us,it’s so easy to become embroiled in our own affairs ,forgetting that so many struggle on a day to day basis just to breath through no fault of their own.If we could just spare a thought ,then maybe more funds could be made available to allow more research to be done to further advances in cardiac and Lung care in this country .Really,it’s such a small thing really as I see it to devote time from my life to train for this event.

As I sit here ,recovering from my run,I’m thankful for the relative good health that I enjoy and I catalogue my progress through my blog as a way of relaying what I’m doing as such.

As most of my posts are about my take on music,all things to do with the sea,or just my quirky take on life,I realise that these posts are specific ,but I like to communicate through this blog and I thank you for taking the time out of your busy life to read them.

Thank you.


Jack Frost meets Father Christmas!

It’s cold out there this morning:Jack frost seems to have had a bad Christmas and is showing it in icing up the pavements and the driveways.You can’t do much about it,other than be prepared if you venture out in it of a morning.

Putting our best foot forward in these conditions when we promised to train for an event,makes me cautious,for slipping in these artic conditions would surely put back my preparations for running a half Marathon in March 2018.Now,writing about doing it is one thing,but actually running it is another.Its true that in our mind we can achieve so very much,but the reaching of our goals won’t be got by sheer force of will really,as it has to be backed up with preparation and dedication.

Although Father Christmas did bring me some all weather running gear-probably knows Jack Frost-so with base layer ,gloves ,and hat,I shouldn’t have any genuine excuse really,other than it’s really dark outside there at just gone 6:30 in the morning.As I write this,I’m inspired by all those who attend Parkruns up and down the country each Saturday morning in all winds and weathers,and their willingness to brave ,what is to me,artic conditions.Now,I don’t know for sure that any have a charmed life,in fact,I would say that they have pressures that could easily put them off attending but they get out there ,they are willing to train and that is quite inspirational to me in fact.

My two dogs don’t appear to have got the hint that it’s time for them to think about their day should unfold as regards their activity.In fact,if dogs could go on strike,they would be up there with the main protagonists of the 1926 general strike,which sort of puts their attitude to cold weather into perspective.Its not like they are huskies,I grant you,but I was rather hoping that they might enter into the spirit of the great outdoors with a little more gusto than their professional slumber that seems to be their default at the moment.It got me thinking though that willingness is the best motivator for us all,and that forcing someone to do something against their will isn’t ever a good thing,is it.Yes,it might work for a while,but,in the end,they will resent you in the end at the very least,and maybe worse than that,grow to hate you.No,it’s better to encourage,cajole in a kindly way ,but never force because the person needs to find the motivation from within themselves.

As I contemplate trying to run 13 miles around central London in March 2018 for the Royal Brompton and Harefield hospital,I realise that it will be double what I have run before,and that ,for a 60 year old is quite an undertaking.After the personal Mr Motivator talks of “You can do it”,and “Just do it”,you really have to take the preparation of it seriously to have any chance of completing the event successfully.Now,it’s December 28th today,so I’ve got a little over 3 months to complete my preparations before the event and life has a habit of throwing up all sorts of other things in their wake for us to deal with,but I sincerely hope that I can complete the distance on the day.

Probably,my running isn’t really ever going to shatter any records,in fact,it won’t,but it will affect my personal fitness and my self of self worth.Although the jury is out wether it helps all those who suffer from depression,it certainly releases endorphins in me that help me cope with my life as such,with my stuff,and ,I suppose,that is one way in which I can harmlessly self medicate.

Well,I’ve written about it,which you might find of some interest,but writing about it is one thing,it isn’t actually doing it,and I will endeavour to be back in touch again later after I have got out there and run.

Thank you for humouring me in my rather indulgent muse this morning.


Shopping Sails!

High winds off the Solent,with small ferries moored for the day,

Post Christmas shoppers,grabbing a bargain,safe in their retail moorings,

Children still happy,singing jingle bells in the shop aisles,

Families out for the day,good eh!

Spinnaker tower ,like a tall flower,peers above the skyline,

Portsmouth,home of the victory,home of the Royal Navy,home now of Ben Ainslie racing,

Soaking up the wind chill,didn’t give me a thrill,but bought a frothy coffee,it costs a lotta!

Lost track of all the designer names,but somehow ,they all seem to be the same,

I’m just a Cornish Pleb me,without a clever tree see in me,

Saying goodbye to the victory,to Nelson’s pride and joy,

Off home,to compose this un-tome,

Back to the quiet Dorset house along the B3081,,

Running on a full tank of Christmas Fayre!

Went for a run,kinda dumb after all that food,

Well,when your 60 you do some weird stuff,

Running 6 miles on a tank full of food,

Didn’t break any records,I’m afraid,

I’m sure pleased with myself though for giving it a go,

So,that has been my Boxing Day thus far,

So,Box up your emotional troubles in your old boxes,

Rejoice that you have a family,friends,and pets,to smile with,

As I crawled around the Moors ballet country park thinking of my son in Germany and my One in England,

I thought,I’m lucky,do lucky,as many don’t have anyone to share their emotional troubles with,

As I ran,I observed the solitary people with their little dogs,and I thought ,”why the power of a pet to console”

Yes,they need food,exercise,and loads more,but ,boy,think on the things that they give back to us,

As I checked on how much I run,I realised that it had taken me well over an hour to complete my 6 miles,

Maybe you can’t run that well on x-mas Fayre after all,but boy,didn’t it taste good,decadent,lush,and pretty,

So,off home to get a bath,a cup of tea,to hear the voice of my son from Germany on the Christmas Day performance he gave,

So,now,I’m sat in my chair,captain slow,but with a half tank of food.