Hate is not a feeling I think I know. We usually use descriptions such as loathe or intensely dislike, but hate has always had the connotation of wanting to eradicate, be happy to see dead, and such feelings I have never had. But being told I ‘hated’ someone has made me think about hatred and…
Month: June 2010
The Passing Rain
We all have our comfort zones. Those places that take us away from ourselves for a while, or place us in the middle of ourselves without distractions. Wholly dependent upon character they are a haven, a solitude, an outlet and a reorganisation of the brain to complete or attempt to complete the other things we…
Early Morning Meeting
It was bright and warm again this morning. There were a few lazy clouds in a mostly blue sky and the sunshine was just beginning to warm my face. The field had been cut last week and I climbed over the metal gate to see a fox on the far side. It was sniffing around,…
Late Is A Speed Of Its Own
Today I am writing in the evening instead of the early morning. This is because yesterday afternoon I was the recipient of a present of a newish computer, 64 bit dual core. I spent the evening putting in my disc drives and finding out one was not recognised, and dual booting to Linux so I…
The Temptation Of Language
Of course it has been said before, mostly notably in recent years in the playwrights of the Theatre Of The Absurd, that we find it difficult, not easy to convey meaning when we talk and write, because the same word has nuances of meaning for other people they do not have for us. Equally, the…
Paradise Restrained
I remember reading Moore’s Utopia many years ago about how to reach some kind of equilibrium in our political, social and ethical lives. And we all know the stories of the ‘perfect place’ that litter our cultures from Shangri-La to the Garden Of Eden. There is a definite belief amongst people that what we have…
How We Really Make Connections
I enjoy some of the friend-making at facebook and link-in. Mainly to see just how many people want to be writers and what they choose to write. Sometimes for the fleeting glory of being commended. All this getting connected around the world has rapidly become just another way of selling ourselves to each other. I…
Reaching Out
When I was eleven we lived in a village that had a seriously lovely, if small, beach. Strewn with coloured shells that still today glisten on the shell box my mother made. It was whilst there that I went swimming in the sea for the first time and letting go of a rock kicked out…
The Not So Obvious
When I was twenty one I stayed at a lovely house in the Cotswold’s that had been built in the time of Shakespeare. The bedroom floor was at such an angle going to bed was like rock climbing. One of the relatives of the owner needed a hedge clipped and I said I would do…
Sonnet To Childhood
The glories of your heaven cannot show A being quite as lovely to the eye As one that through the days and months will grow From babe to child, fro child to mystery. Inventions filter through your searching hands Ideas shape and mold your every move With grace you smile, with brilliance understand What others…