When I sit down to read

When I sit down to read, my pets take their place on the sofa. Maybe I should read aloud to them from Dr. Doolittle










Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Povey Prattle" is taking a rest. (Goodbye Micky)

 Povey Prattle is taking a rset. I am doing this because when I transfer  Povey Prattle stuff to Facebook (which is how most of you see it) a photo' of the poet  MickyScottBeyJones often attaches itself to my posting. I've not been able to find a way to delete the story I wrote about Micky very many years ago.  It's one of life's minor annoyances. So I will no longer post on Povey Prattle.  If you are one of the five or six readers or followers of that blog you'll be able to read my nonsense and good sense  on a new blog "More Prattle from Povey" If you follow me on Facebook there is nothing you need to do.  The only difference is that you'll no longer see the confusing photo' of Micky Scott Bey Jones. But do look her up via a web search.  She is a terrific poet.
Read more

Memory is so odd, and so very random. (Farley's Rusks)

Image
Yesterday,  as I walked out,  for reasons which are beyond my ken, I began to think about "Farley's Rusks". According to Wiki. "A rusk is a hard, dry biscuit or a twice-baked bread. It is sometimes used as a baby teething food" The most famous brand of rusk in the U.K. was made by the Farley Company in Plymouth, Devonshire. Since I have five younger siblings I am very familiar with Farley's Rusks.  They were all but omnipresent in our home.    A s it says: "they were a baby teething food". T here were five babies in our  home  after me (from 1950 - 1956), each of whom needed Farley's Rusks as they "teethed" and moved from breast or bottled milk to solid foods. Lord alone knows if I cheated my younger sibs out of their fare shares of rusks, 'cause I liked them too. They were so tasty in warm milk, or smothered with butter. QUESTION.  "What trick of memory made me remember "Farley's Rusks" yesterday...
Read more

"A promise to Astrid" A book to buy.

Astrid Nicosia was a parishioner when I was the Vicar at St. Christopher’s Episcopal Church in Chicopee, MA. (1980-1984). She, born in Norway, was a delightful, sweet, gracious and deeply intuitive woman. Her husband Dominic Nicosia was born in Sicily.  He was a bit gruff. But he had a nice and wry sense of humour. The Lord alone knows how and when a Norwegian woman would marry a Sicilian man! My beloved mother met Astrid on one of Mum’s visits from the U.K. to the U.S.A. These two fabulous women “hit it off” immediately. Michael and Cindy Tourville also attended St. Christopher’s. They were then a young and fairly newlywed couple, with two young sons.   As it happens, they lived right next door to Dominic and Astrid. Twenty eight years later, Michael Tourville has written an affectionate and moving account of his (and Cindy’s), mysterious and grace-filled encounters with Astrid. It’s a fabulous tale, one that gives me Goosebumps as I remember the ...
Read more