Monday, 29 July 2019
Saturday, 27 July 2019
Buckets of Rain - Alice Banks (Bob Dylan cover)
Makes me smile.. don't know if she's split with her bloke..
but she doesn't smile much now.
Link.. smile
but she doesn't smile much now.
Link.. smile
Tuesday, 23 July 2019
Rachmaninov: Rhapsody On A Theme Of Paganini, Op.43 - Variation 18. Anda...
Life is precious... and the bloke on the piano is one lucky guy..
Played this on my old record player for my ex-wife,
(she and I were seventeen )... she wasn't impressed.
From that day on I only shared my love of music
with my sister Valerie... well, you couldn't tell your
mates you liked 'girly' music could you?
Love the comments below.. "this guy was born part piano"& "rhapsody in jeans"
Link.. Rachmaninov
KRO
Played this on my old record player for my ex-wife,
(she and I were seventeen )... she wasn't impressed.
From that day on I only shared my love of music
with my sister Valerie... well, you couldn't tell your
mates you liked 'girly' music could you?
Love the comments below.. "this guy was born part piano"& "rhapsody in jeans"
Link.. Rachmaninov
KRO
Monday, 22 July 2019
The MET: Live in HD 2019 - Samson et Dalila: Printemps qui commence
We all live on this one planet, but in so many different worlds,
many of them less than good. Elina? well she's from another universe,
a universe where there is only beauty. I first heard this piece of opera
many years ago, still have a version by Callas, and still, the last few
bars she sings (music not words) just well, just kills me.
Oh, and I'm sure Camille Saint- Saens is from the same universe as Elina
Link.. Elina
KRO
many of them less than good. Elina? well she's from another universe,
a universe where there is only beauty. I first heard this piece of opera
many years ago, still have a version by Callas, and still, the last few
bars she sings (music not words) just well, just kills me.
Oh, and I'm sure Camille Saint- Saens is from the same universe as Elina
Link.. Elina
KRO
Sunday, 21 July 2019
Poem 19
Four Quartets East Coker (a fragment) T S Eliot.
Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
There is a time for the evening under starlight,
A time for the evening under lamplight
(The evening with the photograph album).
Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.
Old men should be explorers
Here and there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In the end is my beginning.
KRO
Monday, 15 July 2019
Booker T.
World Champions..
Feckin yes yes yes yes,,,, bring on the Roos...
For anyone that doesn't get cricket, I'm truly sorry...for them.
KRO
Sunday, 23 June 2019
Tuesday, 11 June 2019
Wednesday, 5 June 2019
Saturday, 1 June 2019
Thursday, 23 May 2019
Monday, 13 May 2019
Monday, 29 April 2019
Yours ( poem 18)
Yours............ Leo Marks..
The life that I have
Is all that I have
And the life that I have
Is yours
The love that I have
Of the life that I have
Is yours and yours and yours
A sleep I shall have
A rest I shall have
Yet death will be but a pause
For the peace of my years
In the long green grass
Will be yours and yours and yours
Link... code ( worth reading)
The life that I have
Is all that I have
And the life that I have
Is yours
The love that I have
Of the life that I have
Is yours and yours and yours
A sleep I shall have
A rest I shall have
Yet death will be but a pause
For the peace of my years
In the long green grass
Will be yours and yours and yours
Link... code ( worth reading)
Sunday, 31 March 2019
Monday, 25 March 2019
Friday, 22 March 2019
Wednesday, 13 March 2019
Chantel McGregor - Purple Rain @ Cambridge Rock Festival 2014
Put a couple of tracks by this girl on my blog years ago,
thought she was wonderful also thought she would just
drift away into normal life. I checked her out again tonight...
Wow, that was some drift.
She's fantastic and has done gig after gig, year on year.
Fantastic musician, fantastic lady..
Link... Chantel McGregor
thought she was wonderful also thought she would just
drift away into normal life. I checked her out again tonight...
Wow, that was some drift.
She's fantastic and has done gig after gig, year on year.
Fantastic musician, fantastic lady..
Link... Chantel McGregor
Wednesday, 13 February 2019
Neighbor Song - Lake Street Dive
A while back I read that the White Rhino was now extinct,
well hey, don't worry, there's a pair of them living in the
flat above me.....
Link... White Rhinos
well hey, don't worry, there's a pair of them living in the
flat above me.....
Link... White Rhinos
Monday, 28 January 2019
Poem 17
STRANGE FRUIT......... Seamus Heaney
Here is the girl's head like an exhumed gourd.
Oval-faced, prune-skinned, prune-stones for teeth.
They unswaddled the wet fern of her hair
And made an exhibition of it's coil,
Let the air at her leathery beauty.
Pash of tallow, perishable treasure:
Her broken nose is dark as a turf clod,
Her eyeholes black as pools in the old workings.
Diadorus Siculas confessed
His gradual ease among the likes of this:
Murdered, forgotten, nameless, terrible
Beheaded girl, outstaring axe
And beautification, outstaring
What had begun to feel like reverence.
Saturday, 19 January 2019
Last flight
Very rare that I write about something in particular
but I'd been watching stuff from NASA, so I wrote about
our last flight, which will happen one day, sad.
This is the only copy I have of this and the levels are awful
but I love it so much(thanks to Mel) I had to post it here...
Link... Tibbet..
but I'd been watching stuff from NASA, so I wrote about
our last flight, which will happen one day, sad.
This is the only copy I have of this and the levels are awful
but I love it so much(thanks to Mel) I had to post it here...
Link... Tibbet..
Wednesday, 9 January 2019
Tam Lin - Child 39
I so love this song, takes me back to the 60s and Fairport.
This version is so, so good (and live) Thank you Alice. x
Link... Tam Lin
This version is so, so good (and live) Thank you Alice. x
Link... Tam Lin
Friday, 4 January 2019
Wednesday, 2 January 2019
Tuesday, 1 January 2019
Monday, 31 December 2018
pickitup
Link.. What a guy...
Already said I can't record here where I 'live' now so I'm
digging out lots of old stuff, this is the first song I ever
recorded at Runway Farm. Like any song/music it
evokes so many memories of people and places.
Lived and worked at Runway Farm from 2000,
where I started a whole new life, met so so many new
people, almost all of them thought I was 'OK' so
much so that even I began to believe in myself.
A few of these 'new' people I wouldn't want to
meet again, and a few I would love to see again,
but sadly they're gone from us.
I finally stopped living at Runway and bought
a flat..60a.. where I lived for a dozen years or so,
but hey, it's all gone, Runway Farm, 60a, my
work, my very identity, all gone. For seventeen
years I had some great days, even begun to
believe in myself , but I'm low on energy now,
not sure I can begin another new life......
but hey... you never know.
KRO
Sunday, 30 December 2018
Friday, 28 December 2018
Friday, 21 December 2018
Poem 16
The Walrus and the Carpenter............... Lewis Carroll
KRO
The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his best to make
The billows smooth and bright-
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.
The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done-
"It's very rude of him " she said
"To come and spoil the fun."
The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead-
There were no birds to fly.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
If this were only cleared away,
They said, it would be grand!
If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose, the Walrus said,
That they could get it clear?
I doubt it said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.
"O Oysters, come and walk with us"
The Walrus did beseech.
A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk
Along the briny beach:
"We cannot do with more than four
To give a hand to each."
The eldest Oyster looked at him
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head-
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.
But four young Oysters hurried up
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed
Their shoes were clean and neat-
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more-
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
"The time has come" the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes-and ships-and sealing wax-
Of cabbages-and kings-
And why the sea is boiling hot-
And whether pigs have wings."
But wait a bit, the Oysters cried
Before we have our chat:
For some of us are out of breath
And all of us are fat.
"No hurry" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
A loaf of bread, the Walrus said,
Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed-
Now if you're ready Oysters dear
We can begin to feed.
But not on us the Oysters cried
Turning a little blue.
After such kindness that would be
A dismal thing to do.
The night is fine the Walrus said,.
Do you admire the view?
It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!
The Carpenter said nothing but
Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf-
I've had to ask you twice.
It seems a shame the Walrus said,
To play them such a trick
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick.
The Carpenter said nothing but
This butter's spread to thick.
I weep for you the Walrus said
I deeply sympathize.
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
before his streaming eyes.
O Oysters said the Carpenter,
You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?
But answer came there none-
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.
And you are very nice!
The Carpenter said nothing but
Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf-
I've had to ask you twice.
It seems a shame the Walrus said,
To play them such a trick
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick.
The Carpenter said nothing but
This butter's spread to thick.
I weep for you the Walrus said
I deeply sympathize.
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
before his streaming eyes.
O Oysters said the Carpenter,
You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?
But answer came there none-
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.
KRO
Sunday, 16 December 2018
Wednesday, 5 December 2018
Poem 15........ fleet foxes....drops in the river
Crown of leaves high in the window on a cold morning
Young today, old as a railroad tomorrow
Days are just drops in the river to be lost always
Only you, only you, you know.
Years ago birds of a feather would arrive nightly
Gone you know, held to another like clutched ivy
On the shore, speak to the ocean and receive silence
Only you, only you, you know.
You hesitate, so my memory's fade I'll hold to the first one
I wouldn't turn to another you say, on the long night we've made
Let it go.
Only you, only you, you know
Only you, only you, you know
You hesitate, so my memory's fade, I'll hold to the first one
I wouldn't turn to another you say, on the long night we've made
Let it go, let it go.
Speak to me slow my dear
No ghost of course in here
Pleased, to be lonesome quiet and clear
All is alone in here.
Link...take me some where else.. it does
Young today, old as a railroad tomorrow
Days are just drops in the river to be lost always
Only you, only you, you know.
Years ago birds of a feather would arrive nightly
Gone you know, held to another like clutched ivy
On the shore, speak to the ocean and receive silence
Only you, only you, you know.
You hesitate, so my memory's fade I'll hold to the first one
I wouldn't turn to another you say, on the long night we've made
Let it go.
Only you, only you, you know
Only you, only you, you know
You hesitate, so my memory's fade, I'll hold to the first one
I wouldn't turn to another you say, on the long night we've made
Let it go, let it go.
Speak to me slow my dear
No ghost of course in here
Pleased, to be lonesome quiet and clear
All is alone in here.
Link...take me some where else.. it does
Thursday, 29 November 2018
Friday, 23 November 2018
Poem 14
Macavity: The Mystery Cat .......................... T.S.Eliot
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw--
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For when they reach the scene of the crime--Macavity's not there!
Macavity, Macavity, there's no-one like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of the crime--Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air--
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!
Macavity's a ginger cat,he's very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is slightly domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no-one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square-
But when a crimes discovered, then Macavity's not there!
He's outwardly respectable. (they say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair--
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!
And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty's gone astray,
Or the Admiralty loose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair--
But it's useless to investigate -- Macavity's not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
'It must have been Macavity!'-- but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.
Macavity Macavity, there's no-one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
And what ever time the deed took place--MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mean Mongojerrie, I might mean Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations : the Napoleon of Crime!
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw--
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For when they reach the scene of the crime--Macavity's not there!
Macavity, Macavity, there's no-one like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of the crime--Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air--
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!
Macavity's a ginger cat,he's very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is slightly domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no-one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square-
But when a crimes discovered, then Macavity's not there!
He's outwardly respectable. (they say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair--
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!
And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty's gone astray,
Or the Admiralty loose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair--
But it's useless to investigate -- Macavity's not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
'It must have been Macavity!'-- but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.
Macavity Macavity, there's no-one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
And what ever time the deed took place--MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mean Mongojerrie, I might mean Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations : the Napoleon of Crime!
Friday, 16 November 2018
Sunday, 11 November 2018
Wednesday, 7 November 2018
Sunday, 4 November 2018
Poem 13..
4/11/2018
Wilfred Owen was killed this day exactly 100 years ago,
just seven days before the end of the "Great war" He was
twenty five years old.
The Chances... Wilfred Owen
I mind as 'ow the night afore that show
Us five got talkin',-we was in the know.
'Over the top to-morrer; boys, we're for it.
First wave we are, first ruddy wave; that's tore it!'
'Ah well,' says Jimmy,-an, 'e's seen some scrappin-
'There ain't no more nor five things as can 'appen:
Ye get knocked out; else wounded-bad or cushy;
Scuppered; or nowt except yer feelin' mushy
One of us got the knock-out, blown to chops.
T'other was 'urt, loosin' both 'is props.
An' one, to use the word of' 'ypocrities,
'Ad the misfortoon to be took by Fritz.
Now me, I wasn't scratched, praise god amighty,
(Though next time please I'll thank 'im for a blighty)
But poor young Jim, 'e's livin' an' 'e's not;
'E reconed 'e'd five chances, an' 'e 'ad;
'E's wounded, killed and pris'ner, all the lot,
The bloody lot all rolled in one. Jim's mad.
Wilfred Owen was killed this day exactly 100 years ago,
just seven days before the end of the "Great war" He was
twenty five years old.
I mind as 'ow the night afore that show
Us five got talkin',-we was in the know.
'Over the top to-morrer; boys, we're for it.
First wave we are, first ruddy wave; that's tore it!'
'Ah well,' says Jimmy,-an, 'e's seen some scrappin-
'There ain't no more nor five things as can 'appen:
Ye get knocked out; else wounded-bad or cushy;
Scuppered; or nowt except yer feelin' mushy
One of us got the knock-out, blown to chops.
T'other was 'urt, loosin' both 'is props.
An' one, to use the word of' 'ypocrities,
'Ad the misfortoon to be took by Fritz.
Now me, I wasn't scratched, praise god amighty,
(Though next time please I'll thank 'im for a blighty)
But poor young Jim, 'e's livin' an' 'e's not;
'E reconed 'e'd five chances, an' 'e 'ad;
'E's wounded, killed and pris'ner, all the lot,
The bloody lot all rolled in one. Jim's mad.
Sunday, 28 October 2018
Monday, 22 October 2018
Poem twelve..
Phillip Le Barr... ..........................Spike Milligan..
Phillip Le Barr
Was knocked down by a car
On the road to Mandalay,
He was knocked down again
By a dust cart in Spain
And again in Zanzibar
So,
He traveled at night
In the pale moonlight
Away from the traffic's growl
But terrible luck
He was hit by a duck
Driven by an owl
Sunday, 14 October 2018
Thursday, 11 October 2018
Wednesday, 10 October 2018
Poem eleven....
No goodbye.... Derek H.
"Can I please talk to you?"
"Which one of you to which one of me".. I said.
"Is it the you that was part of the we,,,.. now dead?"
"Or is it the you that I see"
"And this thing now me?"
"Look just, just talk to me"
"Fine, I'll talk to the you that I see"... I replied
"Was it the you that was part of the we... who lied?"
"Or were you always and only the you I now see?"
"So you won't talk to me?"
"No, I don't know you"...
Friday, 5 October 2018
Carmen: "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle" (Elina Garanca)
I posted a version of this (by Agnes Baltsa) a while back
but this version by Elina Garanca is brilliant, wonderful.
Link.. ..full screen.(I want to be an orange..
PS. wonder what the #Me Too ladies think of her performance.
Thursday, 4 October 2018
you can't beat a good wallow in sadness
I've been re-reading some of Prof, Cox' stuff, now that is sad,
not the fact I've been reading the Prof's stuff, but what he says.
First the earth will leave the "Goldilocks" orbit in 2-3 billion years
and be swallowed by our sun in it's death throes (humans long
since gone before this happens) that's sad. Next, in about 4 billion
years our galaxy will collide with Andromeda , the end for billions
of stars, that's sad. The span of time these events take seems so
large that it's hard to think they will happen, but they will.
Finally, in maybe a trillion years or more,( but it will happen,)
our universe will be dead, not a beam of light, no movement,
a cold, dark emptiness, with no events happening even time
will stop.....
The lucky toe- rags, they're all smoking
Link...full screen and loud
Sunday, 23 September 2018
Poem 10
Fairy tales..... Derek H.
If all the Irish were in Ireland
What a crowded land it would be,
No Pixie dens deep green, nor hills
Rolling gently to the sea.
If Gods and saints were mortal
And all faith began this day,
Should we then ask for reasons
Why this time, this place, this way?
KRO
Wednesday, 19 September 2018
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