Goodbye 2014 - Hello 2015

GOODBYE 2014

A Turning Point

A Pivotal Moment

A Year

I lost close friends and colleagues to premature death

A time of deep reflection

A Professional Career

Life is rich with my Grandsons Dafydd and Izaak

Friends in my 3 sons Thomas, Sam and Robert

Janet, wife, enduring friend – 34 years together – alone again naturally - the boys have flown

I look to a future – a time of great change, optimism

Bring it on - 2015

Little Lies

Watch

Little Lies

“All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

"So we can believe the big ones?"

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

"They're not the same at all!"

YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.

"Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—"

MY POINT EXACTLY.”

Terry Pratchett - The Hogfather

Parent Happiness

Parents ......
Its a simple fact that....
You will only ever be as happy as your unhappiest child....

Its the price we pay......

Children are forever, not just for Xmas .......

Little humans

Dont you just love them

Soho (Needless to Say) Past, Present, and Future (Al Stewart) 1973 I was 17 Years Old  I lived in Mayfair And walked the Streets of Soho at Night with my Friends "Wendy House"  Soho Needless to Say Some Members of Wendy House - Left to Right Philip Herbert, Dave Barton, Davina Boyd, Amanda Wise Listen to.... Soho - Needless to Say

Rainstorm, brainstorm, faces in the maelstrom Huddle by the puddles in the shadows where the drains run Hot dogs, wet clogs clicking up the sidewalk Disappearing into the booze shop Rainbow queues stand down by the news stand, waiting for the late show Pin ball, sin hall, minds in free fall Chocolate-coloured ladies making eyes through the smoke-pall Soho (needless to say) I'm alone on your streets on a Friday evening I've been here all of the day I'm going nowhere with nowhere to go Football supporters taking the waters They're looking round for the twilight daughters Non-stop strip club pornographic bookshop Come into the back and take your time and have a good look Old man laughs with flowers in his hair Newspaper headline "Middle East Deadline" Jazz musicians are down on the breadline Soho (needless to say) I'm alone on your streets on a Friday evening I've been here all of the day I'm going nowhere with nowhere to go Soho feeds the needs and hides the deeds, the mind that bleeds Disenchanted, downstream in the night Soho hears the lies, the twisted cries, the lonely sighs Till she seems lost in dreams The sun goes down on a neon eon Though you'd have a job explaining it to Richard Coeur de Lion Animation, bar conversation, anticipation, disinclination Poor old wino turns with dust in his eyes Begs for the dregs from the bottom of the kegs, man You've never seen a lady lay down and spread her legs like Soho (needless to say) I'm alone on your sheets on a Friday evening I've been here all of the day I'm going nowhere with nowhere to go Soho (needless to say) I'm alone on your streets, or am I dreaming I've been here all of the day I'm going nowhere with nowhere to go

The Rubaiyat - NO GOING BACK

The Rubaiyat - of Omar Khayyam

Reflections on Mortality and Wine

This was a favorite of my Father - he loved this poem.

The Rubaiyat is an ancient, one thousand year old, cynically humorous, and savage reflection on mortality.

The moving finger refers to the narrative of your life story - and it tells you simply that there is "NO GOING BACK"

----------------------

Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai 
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp 
Abode his destined Hour, and went his way. 

I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head. 

And this reviving Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River-Lip on which we lean --
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen! 

Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute;
Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit. 

You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse
I made a Second Marriage in my house;
Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed
And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse. 

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it. 

And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, 
Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
Lift not your hands to It for help -- for It
As impotently moves as you or I. 

IN FULL

THE RUBAIYAT

THE MOVING FINGER WRITES...

GET USE TO IT!

In the Year of the Cat

IN THE YEAR OF THE CAT

This piece of music defined my young adulthood

It inspires and evokes emotion to this day
Painting pictures in your mind....

Watch & Listen to the amazing 

Year of the Cat

On a morning from a Bogart movie

In a country where they turn back time

You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre

Contemplating a crime

She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running

Like a watercolor in the rain

Don't bother asking for explanations

She'll just tell you that she came

In the year of the cat

She doesn't give you time for questions

As she locks up your arm in hers

And you follow till your sense of which direction

Completely disappears

By the blue tiled walls near the market stalls

There's a hidden door she leads you to

These days, she says, "I feel my life

Just like a river running through"

The Year of the Cat

Why she looks at you so coolly?

And her eyes shine like the moon in the sea

She comes in incense and patchouli

So you take her, to find what's waiting inside

The year of the cat

Well morning comes and you're still with her

And the bus and the tourists are gone

And you've thrown away your choice you've lost your ticket

So you have to stay on

But the drumbeat strains of the night remain

In the rhythm of the new-born day

You know sometime you're bound to leave her

But for now you're going to stay

In the year of the cat

Year of the cat

Breathe Deep the Gathering Gloom

THE LATE LAMENT 

Listen to the Lament

Breathe Deep the Gathering Gloom

Breathe deep the gathering gloom,

Watch lights fade from every room.

Bedsitter people look back and lament,

Another day's useless energy spent.

Impassioned lovers wrestle as one,

Lonely man cries for love and has none.

New mother picks up and suckles her son,

Senior citizens wish they were young.

Cold hearted orb that rules the night,

Removes the colours from our sight.

Red is grey and yellow white.

But we decide which is right.

And which is an illusion?

Listen to the Whole Album 

Days Of Future Passed, 1967

Nights in White Satin

Moody Blues

---

I was 11 Years Old when I first heard this

It has been with me ever since...

AND WE DECIDE WHICH IS RIGHT 

AND WHICH IS AN ILLUSION!!!!