This needs no introduction whatsoever, other than to say what a wonderful tribute it is.
Seventy Five Years In The Passing..A D-Day Tribute. Seventy five years in the passing, The 6th of June; brave troops amassing. Nobody knew how countless would pay, For saving our souls that proud D-Day. From hillsides, valleys, towns & moors, They set off, leaving British shores. A rendezvous of military purpose, They called it Piccadilly…
46 to choose from. Therein lay the clue to the lost treasure! It was all there in the Last Will and Testament of old Aunt Agatha. She’d written that, in these books, I would find a wealth beyond measure. Only after finishing “The Great Hunt” did I get it. Reading was the treasure!
For Paddy, and all those unsung heroes who are the salt of the earth, thanks to Colleen for introducing some of them to us.
We approached an Irish monument. I’m always excited to see the world as it used to be, or relics of it and use my imagination to create how I think it was. It was late in the day and only stragglers wandered about. As I stepped through the gates I could see an elderly man […]
There was a chilly mist in the March air, but I love my early morning walks and this gray gloom wasn’t going to keep me from today’s. I stopped midway on a bridge over the creek to watch a pair of mallards silently pick and poke along the muddy bank. Nothing could ruin this perfect serenity.
“Hey!” the shrill voice called. “Beautiful, right?” The spry old woman pointed towards the ducks as she marched enthusiastically onto the bridge to stand beside me. She twirled her arms in several rapid circles, stretched her back, then leaned on the railing and began doing standing push-ups. Dressed in sweat pants and jacket, baseball cap and sneakers, she had all the markings of devoted walker.
“Hi.” I said tentatively, unsure of what was happening.
“You’re from the South, aren’t you? Hiiiii. That’s how you said it. Hiiiii.” She spoke with her back to me…
Quokkas twice in a day has to be some sort of record.
Apart from that, this is really lovely, and well worth a look at the original too. There are some nice people around, and you don’t have to look far to find them!
Recently Sunny Skyz posted a collection of the most wholesome tweets of 2018. I’m recycling a few of my favorites here. See them all here.
Well, that gives plenty of scope. Practically every single artist will, at one time (see what I did there?) , have recorded a song with some time reference in it.
I am going with the very first thing that came to mind. That is “My grandfather’s clock.”
You can, if you wish, follow the words with the recording by Johnny Cash, which is here.
My Grandfather’s Clock
Song by Johnny Cash
My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf So it stood ninety years on the floor It was taller by half than the old man himself Though it weighed not a pennyweight more
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born And was always his treasure and pride But it stopped, short never to go again When the old man died
Ninety years without slumbering His life seconds numbering It stopped, short never to go again When the old man died
My grandfather said that of those he could hire Not a servant so faithful he found For it wasted no time and had but one desire At the close of each week to be wound
And it kept in its place, not a frown upon its face And its hands never hung by its side But it stopped short, never to go again When the old man died
It rang and alarmed in the dead of the night An alarm that for years had been dumb And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight That his hour for departure had come
Still the clock kept the time with a soft and muffled chime As we silently stood by his side But it stopped short, never to go again When the old man died
Ninety years without slumbering His life seconds numbering It stopped short, never to go again When the old man died
Songwriters: Erich Doll / Henry Clay Work
However, I also offer this instrumental version by Leroy Troy. I don’t think he gets out much, apart from performing his clawhammer style of banjo playing!
I once set about reading The Bible all the way through. I made it! (although a lot of it was skipped through very swiftly, because some parts are boring {quite a lot}) I don’t take the Bible as gospel (see what I did there!), but it is a tremendous work by many people over many, many years.
One of the bits that many people could recount, although not verbatim, is the bit about reaching the age of 70, and guess what, I made it!
Psalm 90:10 King James Version
The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.
That inspired the following little offering of ageist poetry:
Well, I’m buggered
Whoever thought? Three score years and ten,
and maybe, then, another ten;
but no excitement for the morrow
for it’s bound to end in sorrow,
and even if you reach that stage
you’ll surely creak, and feel your age;
but don’t get too complacent mate,
your number’s up, it’s just too late.
So, make the most of every day
before you have to fly away!
I fully intend to make the most of every day, with a little help from my friends.
For those who don’t know the real lyrics here they are
Helen’s theme this week is 
