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Easter Monday

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Monday, 1 Apr 2013, 13:27

April 1st 2013

Fooled!

Dawn on the common. Rabbits scampered into their burrows but on the horizon a larger creature browsed. No - not the cottager's flocks returning or an ox - 'twas a hare.

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Easter Chic

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Easter celebrations do not seem worthy of note to a famous diarist.

'The month shuts up only with great desires of peace in all of us, ...'

London and Glasgow

Collins Clear - Type Press

The Diary of Samuel Pepys

 

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Happy Easter!

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When you think about it, God has to be the best inventor of all time.

He took a rib from Adam and made a loudspeaker.

Source; Parish Magazine, Redgrave cum Botesdale and Rickinghall APRIL 2013

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New blog post

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Saturday, 8 Feb 2014, 16:05

Blakelow Road where Grandma used to live, bird watching and clay were my associations with the names Blakeney and Cley until yesterday. Blakeney, peopled by many in green macs is a windswept hamlet built of cobble stones on the edge of the marshes. Cley church has a half built or half ruined extension (like Sienna Cathedral) before the apse. The extension has a lancet window with flowing tracery carved in white stone - but no roof.

Covehithe towards Southwold meets the North Sea. Sand, sea and field merge there in irresitible, wild confusion.

 

 

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Studies

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Took time out to read Ruth Padel's book '52 Shades of ... 'I mean ... 'Ways of Looking at a Poem. Next I plan to catch up with the course exercises.

Wednesday away day Hiring a car and driving to the coast

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Blurred! Shapeless!

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Is that how sand castle's feel after tsunami?

Languished until 1-30pm yesterday in time for Tesco man. Meanwhile Muse's murmuring crescendo interrupted everything until led by a storm of commands I did not want to stop. This morning I am shapeless torment - awash with orange juice after a sleepless night.

The Barn Owl

White fillets of wing disturbed the air above a corner by the bridleway. From a perching place found on a tree, round face, claw shaped beak, big eyes turned to look at me.

 

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Howard

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He plans to come to Writers Group on Monday.

I have been composing a poem to The Mere for TMA04. Such a prehistoric site in a small town deserves praise. I might read the poem to members.

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Tutorial

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A215 Tutorial gone off the boil. Planted some spinach.
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Bought A Book

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Saturday, 16 Mar 2013, 12:42

Publisher; Vintage 2004

Author;    Ruth Padel

Title;       52 Ways of Looking At A Poem

The text a mass of ambiguities is stupifying!

'We are in the middle of a large - scale renaissance of poetry in Britain today.'

Can you think of Seamus Heaney or Viki Feaver as the literary equivalents of Leonardo et al? Teacher advised me to read the book. Ruth Padel might be understood as an after Empire satirist one day.

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Zoe Toms Art Exhibition

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Friday, 15 Mar 2013, 18:30

Zoe Toms

Sculpture Prints and Animation

Exhibition of Recent Work

Adresse; Neben EinGang mehr als ein Atelier

Atelier im Frauenmuseum

Wendy Hack

Im Drausfeld 10

5B111 Bonn

www.inputartput.com

March 2013

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Walnut Tree

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Wednesday, 20 Mar 2013, 17:05
I was surprised to see a local walnut tree has been sawn to within a metre of the ground. The area looks barren now but there are plenty of seedlings sprouting in the hedgerows. This locality has lost three mature trees, an ash that collapsed in old age and a prunus of some sort, that beautified the view from my window, during the past year. The area remains woody enough for a rookery, lots of pigeons though and a skylark rose out of the soggy mottled mat of weeds and sang while soaring above the common.
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Writers Group

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Next meeting on 25th March.
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Coo!

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I'm listening to pigeons. An owl flew by last evening. His head and shoulders were so big and rounded I could not possibly have been mistaken.

I met three geese while I was in Attergau. At first we just stared at each other. Then they pattered off with me following, along the path towards the town.

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Limestone Ledges

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Sunday, 10 Mar 2013, 19:35

There's nothing you can do about the mountains.

They do not lend themselves to being rearranged.

The crowding frowning snow- spread limestone ledges

are fissured faceted shadows with pine bristle edges

louring like forever over Attergau on the plain.

AND ...

TMA03 returned. Scored 54

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Incommunicado

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Friday, 1 Mar 2013, 10:13
On holiday from 3 - 9th March 2013
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Secret Wood

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Wednesday, 4 Jun 2014, 09:55

Secret Wood

 

Deep secrets lie in unfrequented places

Where the urban plan gives way to spaces

Dark and undulating ever spreading wood

Mushroom feet ivy scarf and green hood.

 

A dank path silent, soft and bramble sprung

Leads deep and dim into the overhung.

There waits no friendly guide nor worded sign

No footfall breeze or rick nor brick or line.

 

Old roots writhe in unexpected places

Boles with holes no sure and even paces.

A rill of loamy clots lies up awaiting.

Rain! A sudden shrill debating.

 

Sheering through the canopy of green and brown

Towards the crashing sea and the unknown

They flay the salty wind on fearless wing.

Their secret wood is left to wintering.

P. Lesley 2012

I wrote Secret Wood for a United Press Competition

(after I had been homeless for eight years)

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It's a Clare Day

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Monday, 1 Apr 2013, 09:05

Clare came today. She was employed originally to clean the flat but all visitors are offered the opportunity to lend their ears to my current literary efforts. Clare not only lends ears but voices unbiased and profound criticism. She also suggests changes to character and plot.

Today she went home with a fairy story to scrutinize and I am looking forward to her comments.

P.S. She declined to make any!

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Hello Joy Hutchings

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No.
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Charming!

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Wednesday, 20 Feb 2013, 19:06
Your story has charm an editor replied today.
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Spectacular

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Tuesday, 12 Mar 2013, 16:28
The choppy lawn looks like a sea, shimmering green in the sun, obliquely shaded with clouds. Poetry!
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Titian

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Tuesday, 26 Mar 2013, 10:14

My boots needed mending. So I went into town. While they were at the cobblers I strolled into Waterstone's for a browse.

Humour, biog., history, new books, nothing I fancied until I found,

Publisher; Harper,

Author; Hale Sheila,

Title;    Titian

The first sentence is much too long but makes you impatient to read about the paintings. It describes the view from Venice, of the mountains where Titian was born and reminds me of Brucker's Renaissance Florence. Dear reader, (thank you Charlotte Bronte) I bought it and I'll be spending the next couple of days in 15 C. Venice.

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Deryck Guyler?

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I think he was known as Corky the constable.
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Hello Cathy! Thanks for your comment.

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Sunday, 17 Feb 2013, 13:41

I remember him as a quiet side kick to Hatty Jaques in a television situation comedy.

With regard for what you noted, Eric wrote about his penchant for adlib in the book. Apparently his co - star Jimmy Edwards was upstaged by a cockroach while Eric and Jimmy were performing in Chicago. Jimmy stamped on the cockroach and when Eric came on having no idea what had happened or why the audience was laughing saw the squashed insect, said,

'I was training that one.' The audience went ape according to his words.

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Sykes, the likes of

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Friday, 9 Aug 2013, 11:04

The name Sykes and the noun autobiography, seemed incongruous to me but one bit of the book read quite naturally,

'Being far from home, I had to find digs, and  ... I found myself ... boarding at Harry Kershaw's farm .... For a townie like me this was an unattainable dream, a purposeful, rangey old house surrounded by fields and meadows ... .'

That idle mention of a country loving trait in his personality put all the buffoonery and backstabbing in place.

I felt as though I had a house guest but now I've finished reading the book - he's gone.

Eric had to stand at table to eat because chairs were scarce in their household. The coal was delivered by horse and cart. There wasn't a car for miles. He only knew which end of a phone was which since a visit to Saturday morning pictures.

By the end of the book though he is famous, computer literate and there are pictures of him being loaded with honours. Despite 502 pages of rambling (written when he was eighty two I think) it is a lovable tale that made me laugh and cry.

Publisher; Fourth Estate London 2005

Author; Eric Sykes

Title; Eric Sykes

 

 

 

 

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Always paying

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Edited by Patricia Stammers, Tuesday, 12 Feb 2013, 11:53
When I buy something it is mine but if I bought an ebook, I would not feel as though it was mine because I would subsequently be paying the electricity company to supply electricity required to charge the ebook reader. You are never done paying for literature these days!
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