"I'm sure that was a Swallow!" I'm sorry Ivy but 'One swallow does not make a summer'.
A traditional British saying, being an allusion to
the return of migrating swallows at the start of the summer season. From a
remark by Aristotle (384 BCE - 322 BCE): "One swallow does not a summer make, nor one fine day; similarly one day
or brief time of happiness does not make a person entirely happy."
On 20th March Martin Mere bird sanctuary recorded
an early Swallow or 'Barn Swallow' if you like (which I don't) perched on wires near the
car park at 9.40am. Lancashire is to the North of us. It’s unusual to record
a Swallow before a Sand Martin and the average date for arrival in Lancashire is
the 25th March though the trend is getting earlier. This Swallow misjudged things.
Despite the snow, Ivy puss decided to explore again.
"Let's have a little wander..."
“It’s much nicer looking out than being out.”
“What was that? Either an Ostrich landed on the
conservatory roof or a chunk of snow fell off the rooftop.”
“The young have aspirations that never come
to pass, the old have reminiscences of what never happened.”
― Saki, ‘Reginald’
I don’t recall GB
introducing me to many authors though I do remember learning a lot about
British Constitution as he played tapes in the bedroom while learning about it
for his A Level.But it was certainly he
who told me about Saki (Hector Hugh Munro 1870-1916). I must have been about
thirteen and GB eighteen when he began raving about Saki and ‘The Unbearable
Bassington’.Not the foaming at the
mouth type raving – just the being very enthusiastic type raving.As a result I picked up ‘The Square Egg and
other stories’ and was equally hooked.I
worked my way through many of his short stories. Even at that age I collected
quotations and these were a couple of my favourites.
“There may have been
many disillusionments in the lives of the medieval saints, but they would
scarcely have been better pleased if they could have foreseen that their names
would be associated chiefly with racehorses and the cheaper clarets.”(from ‘Reginald at the Carlton’)
“I'm living so far
beyond my means that we may almost be said to be living apart." (from 'The Unbearable Bassington')
“What do you think of human intelligence?"
asked Mavis Pellington lamely. "Of whose intelligence in particular?"
asked Tobermory coldly. "Oh, well, mine for instance," said Mavis
with a feeble laugh. "You put me in an embarrassing position,"
said Tobermory, whose tone and attitude certainly did not suggest a shred of
embarrassment. "When your inclusion in this house-party was suggested Sir
Wilfrid protested that you were the most brainless woman of his acquaintance,
and that there was a wide distinction between hospitality and the care of the
feeble-minded. Lady Blemley replied that your lack of brain-power was the precise
quality which had earned you your invitation, as you were the only person she
could think of who might be idiotic enough to buy their old car. You know, the
one they call 'The Envy of Sisyphus,' because it goes quite nicely up-hill if
you push it.”
Sadly Munro was one of
a number of authors who was killed in the trenches in World War One. There is an anthology by Tim Cross called
"The Lost Voices of World War I: An International Anthology of Writers,
Poets & Playwrights" with works by more than fifty authors who died in
the four years of fighting in the Great War.It helps to make one aware of how much talent was lost when these young
men died. To quote from a website on the subject 'Cross says, "A complete
list of all poets, playwrights, writers, artists, architects and composers who
died as a result of the First World War is an impossible task," but even
so he has compiled a list of approximately 750 names. The list includes only
people who had already accomplished something of note in their fields; we are
left to ponder how many of the 9,000,000 young men lost in the war might have
gone on to do great things in the arts, sciences, medicine, and politics.'
Only one week before
the end of the war, whilst attempting to traverse the Sambre canal, the War
Poet Wilfred Owen was shot and killed. The news of his death, on 4 November
1918, arrived at his parents' house in Shrewsbury on Armistice Day. For his
courage and leadership in the October 1918 Joncourt action, Owen was awarded
the Military Cross.
Thanks for stopping by! Would you like a cup of tea or coffee? And please, sit for a spell. If you enjoy my posts, please feel free to follow me or subscribe to my blog. This is a word verification free, family friendly blog, so everything I share here is for all ages. I am a happily married man in my late sixties who lives on the Wirral peninsula, near Liverpool, in the UK.
I'm a blogger - and nowadays that seems to be my main occupation. Rambles from My Chair is my main blog. I’m a retired local government executive - now studying how to survive a neurological disorder that gives me various problems but, hopefully, a whole new outlook on life and an increased sense of humour and perspective. There is a saying in Sweden "man måste vara frisk för att orka vara sjuk" ~ "you have to be well to cope with being ill"....
I enjoy most forms of communication and postcards are a special favourite. I used to blog as Scriptor Senex which is Latin for Old Writer but now Google only lets me post as John Edwards.
“He’s not so old. He’s just the age that he is, that’s all.” (Gerald Hammond)