Povey Prattle

My best friend from the time I was six until I entered my twenties was Jeffrey Davies. Jeff lived just over the railway bridge, on Bloy St. He was five when we became friends. Jeff’s mother was from Lowestoft, Suffolk, also my mum’s home town. Mum’s story was that she had been waiting for a ‘bus on Whitehall Road and began to chat with a stranger. Mum said “I know where you are from”. The stranger said “I am sure that you don’t”. Mum replied, “you are from Lowestoft”. It was so. Mum had recognised the unique East Anglian accent. Mrs. Davies was a bit older than Mum. She remembered German pilots machine gunning civilians in World War I. (Lowestoft is the most easterly town in Great Britain). Mum and Mrs. Davies adored Lowestoft. So far as they were concerned it was the gateway to heaven. So Jeff and I spent many holidays there. We loved the north beach with its Dunes (pronounced “Doons” in Lowestoft), and the stream which we could dam with sand. We liked to be on the sea...

On Thursdays I lead a prayer service at Res House in SRQ. It’s my favourite activity each week. The attendance varies between eight and fourteen people. It’s the only Church I know where every week we have more men than women to pray. I keep it simple. A bit of Scripture; lighting candles for prayer requests; the Lord’s Prayer, the Hail Mary and a blessing. We always end with a song. K. was there yesterday. He’d been arguing with his girlfriend before the service. He carried the argument into the Chapel. I reminded everyone that this was a “safe place”, and that disputes should be left at the door. During the “lighting of the candle” time, K. began to “testify” at length. ’Twas almost as if he was relating his inner struggle between a good impulse and a bad impulse. I bided my time and let him finish. I thanked him for his words and we all said the Lord’s Prayer. S. told me about her upcoming surgery. Then she had to rush out of the Chapel to the bathroom. I opined “sometime...

It was at about 4:00 p.m. yesterday (Feb 27th) when a huge flock of starlings alighted upon the grass at the back of my home. There were maybe 150 of them, pecking urgently at seeds and weeds. They were quickly followed by a 90 or so gang of crows (the thug birds) whose mission was to chase the starlings away. The air battle of Sarasota ensued. Starlings and crows took off, wheeling, diving, looping the loop, flying figures of eight in the air above. This aerial battle was soon over. The crows drove the starlings away. The starlings flew away, but not in defeat. They had outwitted the crows. Not one of them had been killed. Just a slice of life in SRQ.

Christopher Smart (1722 - 1771) was an English Poet who developed some kind of religious mania, for which he was confined in a Lunatick Asylum. That's what "they" say. Perhaps he was simply a religious mystic ahead of his time. Some of his poetry arose during his confinement. He writes of his cat in the following lines. Even non-religious cat lovers might enjoy this. For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry. For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him. For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way. For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness. For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer. For he rolls upon prank to work it in. For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself. For this he performs in ten degrees. For first he looks upon his forepaws to see if they are clean. For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away ther...

We’d usually begin our walks at his off just of Muller Road in Horfield, Bristol. “We” being my Grammar School (High School) friend Stephen Meyer and I. With a sandwich in my bag I’d have taken the 83 ‘bus from my home to the end of his street. In Passover time I’d leave my leavened bread in the Meyer’s garden shed before Stephen and I set out on our walk. Always his mother Greta would see us off with her “blessings, blessings” in a soft and gentle German accent. Stephen and I would sometimes then take the 83 ‘bus again down to Eastville Park, avoiding the hill up over Purdown. Eastville Park was (is) the big public park in East Bristol. It has a big lake for fishing and canoeing. Nanny Povey who lived nearby would joke that she was taking her holiday in the “Lake District”. Then, after a pause, she would add “Eastville Park”. Eastville Park was also one of my favourite haunts on winter Saturday afternoons. There, when I was about 13 or 14 I would go to watch the young men play ...

With nowhere to go, homeless land in jail City defends aggressive policing, but would offering shelter cost less? SARASOTA It costs taxpayers about $925 when police arrest a homeless person for drinking a beer in public or sleeping behind a church, a Herald-Tribune analysis shows. Aggressive enforcement of city ordinances that target the homeless has led to 1,427 arrests over the past three years, costing taxpayers $1.3 million, the analysis shows. And the number of arrests has risen sharply over the past six months, adding to overcrowding at the jail. County officials, who are planning to build a $56 million jail to accommodate the increasing jail population, even considered a special charge to the city of Sarasota each time police arrest someone for public urination, illegal camping, curbside drinking or panhandling. Police and city officials say it is more expensive to do nothing than make the arrests, which they say keep crime down and the downtown area safe and clean for residents...

Last weekend my friend Joe S visited. He grew up in Cheshire, MA and I’ve known him since he was about 15 years old, a teenager at St. Stephen’s Parish, Pittsfield. Joe is now in his mid-thirties. He lives and works in London, U.K. This weekend my guest has been Susan Hughes, also from St. Stephen’s. We worked out that I’ve known her since she was fourteen years old. Susan lives in Atlanta, GA with her partner Lisa Coston. They drove here last Thursday and will be heading north again tomorrow. I stayed overnight with Lisa and Susan in June 2006 when I was driving from New England to Florida, to begin my retirement life in Sarasota. It’s been a pleasure and a great deal of fun to be with “Miss Susan” and “Miss Lisa” as I call them. Yesterday afternoon we were in downtown SRQ in a wonderful kitchen store “Sur la Table”. I was chatting with Sam, a sixty-something year old Spaniard who is a salesman there. He was trying to get me interested in a Cappuccino making machine. ...