A Friend is someone who likes you

 

There is a nice little story told of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. He started playing the piano when he was three years old. One day, his father asked him what he was doing and he replied, 'Looking for little notes which like each other.' A great definition of musical harmony which also tells us about us. A friend is someone who likes you, it's as simple as that. How wonderful is that feeling when you meet a friend who likes you, that special moment of excited anticipation when you both pull up a chair and order your coffee and lean in to listen to each other's news and celebrate each other's joys and commiserate each other's disappointments and hardships. I am sure I am not alone in feeling that most of what I learned about friendship started way back in very early childhood. At first my friends were my family, mum dad and brother, then cousins neighbours and school friends. Whenever I got hurt or disappointed by a friend my mother would say 'if you want to have a friend you have got to be a friend', she was a constant source of inspiration. I longed to be like her, I thought it must be wonderful to be a grown up and never feel hurt or left out. 'Think about how they feel' she would say, and I always tried. My father had a different approach to friends, 'God protect me from my friends, because I know my enemies, ' he would boom. 'If you can count the number of friends on one hand you are very lucky'. I would be perplexed by this, I had loads of friends, a whole class full. 'Ah' he would say 'Everybody's friend is nobody's friend.' It's easy to confuse affection for approval. Sometimes we crave someone's friendship, at some stages in life we are more needy than others, more alone. Once our parents have gone the only people who will really love us unconditionally. It's a terrible moment, one cutting the rope tying you to an anchor.

Prova prova prova prova

Finding a daughter, Finding a family

 It was market day in the lively Mediterranean town and the Bar Marché was crowded. Alessandro waited in the shade of the beautiful plane tree until he saw a family getting ready to leave. He swooped in and called to Anna who was at a nearby stall holding up a pair of minute shorts and grinning at him as he rolled his eyes and slumped down in the recently vacated seat. She quickly paid for the shorts and rushed to join him, she gave him a quick hug and sat down.

'Well done for getting this table. It's so busy, I can't believe it, in this heat, but wow, what a great market, look at all the things I've bought.?

She pulled out what looked like a whole wardrobe of summer clothes from her bag. Bright colours to suit her golden skin and glossy dark hair. Everything looked very skimpy and he bit his tongue to stop himself from ruining her obvious pleasure in her purchases.
Alessandro saw the waiter studying him and knew what he was thinking straight away.
An  older man, a sugar daddy for a pretty young girl.
Up until a few months ago he would have been right, but the attractive young woman sitting next to him was his daughter this time, not his latest conquest.

Earlier in the year in the spring, Alessandro had had a wake up call, a slight heart attack.
The doctor had told him not to worry. He just needed to make some life style changes. Exercise  more, give up smoking and eat more healthily.
He was frightened though. He had never thought about his health before. He had sailed through life without so much as a cold.
He loved fine wines and Michelin starred restaurants.
Now to be told that he had  to slow down was a bit of a shock.
He had started to reflect on his life, on what really mattered to him. He had pleaded with his ex-wife Francesca to help him mend the rift that had appeared when he walked out on them both when Anna was only seven years old.

The waiter came to take their orders, giving Alessandro a sly glance. Anna beamed up at the waiter,

'I would like a tonic water please with lots of ice and lemon. What about you papà? No alcohol, remember what the doctor said.'

Alessandro relaxed back in his seat at the way she had said papà. A warm sensation came over him and he grinned at the waiter.

'I will have the same as my daughter, thanks'

The waiter moved away looking a bit chastened and Alessandro put his hand on his daughter's arm. She turned to him and looked serious,

'Papà, thank you for bringing me on this trip. It's wonderful to have a father. Mamma's new husband tries hard and he is very kind but, well, he's not you. You know I think it's important that you know, mamma has never said a bad word against you, ever.'

Alessandro turned away so she wouldn't see the tears that were threatening to fall. A lump came to his throat. Anna was still talking,

'It was me that didn't want to see you, I thought what sort of man leaves his daughter? I thought you didn't love me. I thought you didn't love mamma. '

She stopped and it sounded like she was struggling with tears too.

'Anyway', she went on, brightening and clearing her throat as their drinks arrived,

' I am so glad she persuaded me to let you back in my life'


Anna lofted up her drink and looked her father in the eyes,

'Salute papà'

Hope and joy were in his voice as he replied with feeling,

'Salute, indeed, my dear daughter,'

As he watched her gulp back her drink he thought of why he had fallen in love with Francesca. They both had the same enthusiasm, passion and joyful attitude to life.
He asked himself, not for the first time, why it hadn't lasted.

 Francesca had a new husband now and two small boys, any bitterness had healed now.
 Anna was studying Archeology at the University in Rome. It was Francesca who had suggested a trip together. She had said that driving along together in a car was the best way to have a conversation that could become emotional.
 Alessandro had planned a route going from Rome round to Arles, Orange, Nimes and the Pont du Gard. They had stopped at the small town of Frèjus for the night and  had been busy learning about its Roman history.

Where they were sitting in the market place had once been by the sea, a Roman port. Last night they had been to a show at the Arena . They had both laughed so much at the Toro Piscine and wandered what the Ancient Romans would have thought of that.

He had never enjoyed female company so much. They had so much to say to each other, he found everything Anna said fascinating. They were interested in all the same things. She hung on his every word as he told her all he knew about the Romans.  Today they had seen the columns of the forum and been round a museum with a floor map showing the Roman port. Everything was protected and displayed with loving care.

Anna  nudged him,

'You look faraway papà. I was asking you what you thought of me applying to study here or maybe better in Italy where we have so much art?'

 Alessandro was thoughtful as he  reflected on all the treasures in Italy. Something like eighty per cent of the World's Art treasures were supposedly to be found there. No wonder Italians sometimes seemed complacent. They were surrounded every day by all this beauty. they couldn't dig a hole without finding some hidden treasure .Just to build a car park near his apartment had taken years, with all the bureaucracy involved when the workmen had found some old Roman toilet thing. The pizzeria round the corner from his office had a Roman bath carefully restored and displayed under a glass floor. . It was probably just as well that the French had the Mona Lisa. The queues to get in the Uffizi or the Gallerie Vaticane were long enough as it was.

Some young men walked past the table and glanced at Anna. He recognized the look, it was one he had often given a young girl and he knew what the young men were thinking and felt a burst of anger


Alessandro had always been a womanizer, he couldn't help it. One woman alone had never been enough. He had always been drawn to a short skirt or a cleavage. He loved being close to a woman's softness and scent, but in the morning he liked to wake up alone.
The only woman he had really loved was Francesca, but even she had worn him down. All that nagging and the rules. No smoking in the house, no outdoor shoes in the bedrooms. All the questions when he was late. It had seemed better just to walk away.

He hadn't realized he was giving up so much, giving up a family.
 He sighed, Anna was still talking.
Anna was telling him about her Tesi di Laurea . She had thought of a title and just needed her Professor's approval.

She put her hand on his arm, an enraptured look on her face,

'Guess what papà? It's going to be inspired by our trip.'

He looked at her lovely  face and' a strange sensation came over him.

  It's all going to be alright, papa,'she looked into his eyes.'You're going to be fine'.

He put his arm round her and drew her close breathing in the perfume of her freshly washed hair. He had loved doing that when she was a little girl.

 He thought of all the bath times and bedtime stories he had missed. He thought of the family he had lost and now found again. He took out some notes and put them on the table for the waiter.
He stood up and held out his hand to Anna, a feeling of deep gratitude came over him, he had been given a second chance.

It's not what you say it's the way that you say it

Yesterday I was talking to  a friend about babies and learning languages. I am not a natural linguist. Even my own native tongue was a bit of a struggle and my parents sent me to elocution lessons where I learnt to say things like

Knobbly knees, knobble knees,
Bend a little, if you please,
Whether knees are thin or fat,
They should bend as much as that,
So knobbly knees, knobbly knees,
Bend a little if you please.

I could keep my parents entertained for hours repeating such rhymes, we all got our moneys' worth from those elocution lessons.

How useless I was at languages was brought home to me with a bang when I started secondary school. We had been on holiday to France, camping, the summer before I started secondary school. My father whizzed us round France  getting by with a few phrases. We arrived at aa hotel, 'un chambre', we wanted to leave a restaurant, 'l'addition' and so on, My brother and I gazed at him in awe as he shrugged his shoulders, smiled and immediately everyone knew what he wanted to say. We learned a lot about the art of communication from hi. 'It's not what you say, it's the way that you say it,' was one of his most often repeated phrases. Sometimes he would use the dog to illustrate his point. In a cross voice he would say' you are a beautiful dog', as if by magic she would skulk into her basket, looking chastened. Then he would say' you horrible smelly dog' and she would bounce out of her basket and run round the kitchen and look at us in adoration.

My first French lesson at secondary school then. The teacher asked us to write down all the French we knew. Eagerly and confidently I wrote;


San Fairy Anne (Ca ne fait rien)
Kel er ay teel. (Quelle heure est-il?'

After all, these were some of the phrases I had heard all summer. They sounded good when my father said them.
Imagine my horror when I saw how they were actually spelled.

I have spent most of my life in a country where I do not use my mother tongue, my native language on a daily basis. Most of the English mother tongue speakers I know do not live in England, our English is stuck in a time warp. We do not naturally say things like, '24/7 or furlough, or I'll go for the tuna in breadcrumbs with a sliver of parmesan and a side dish of rocket salad. We were brought up with scampi and chips, gammon steak and smoked haddock for tea, boiled egg with soldiers and peaches from a tin.

Back to my friend and the bi lingual brain. I haven't got one. I speak old fashioned English and Italian with an English accent and still make mistakes which cause laughter.

In the last forty years mixed marriages over Europe have become very commonplace. It's not rare at all to have two parents both speaking a different native tongue and living in a country that neither of them were born in. Their children could easily grow up speaking three of four languages quite effortlessly.

What effect does this have on the human brain' Does it make a difference or not? Is it a good thing to have one mother tongue and then learn other languages? Does it matter?
As in all things it's good to be light hearted but not superficial.

I have come a long way from what my friend was telling me.
She told me about the Chinese alphabet which is based on imagery rather than sounds and the Japanese alphabet and the difference in the brain.

I must have switched off then because I got a bit worried about my own brain and the humiliation of writing 'San Fairy Anne' came back to me and even after all these years it makes me feel such a failure, or as my dad said often in France when people looked at him in puzzlement, 'Jazz we stupide' 'Je suis stupid'.

However does it matter? As my dad  said 'it's the way you say it not what you say.' Communication is what's important.

If you don't laugh you'll cry

So many times in life you might think that if you don't think about something it will go away.  So many times we have heard things like 'You made your bed, now lie in it'. 'Roll up your sleeves and get on with it,' ' idle hands make fretful minds.'' It's nothing that a bit of hard work won't cure, ' 'Look on the bright side, ' you've got too much to think about, ' 'You haven't got enough to do,' 'everyone back to what they were doing, ' etc etc. I am sure you can come up with many of your own that people have told you over the years.
The point is that we are constantly urged to have something to do, something to get on with to take our mind off our worries.
In these troubled times many of us have turned to social media for comfort. Some of us might sent videos, quotes, inspirational thoughts that in normal times would have been an intrusion into our days. To sit down and watch entertaining videos that last anything up to five minutes thirty times a day would be too time- consuming. Now however it is a comfort, a welcome distraction and a sign that someone is thinking of you.
Of course there is nothing funny about the reason we are all staying at home and avoiding each other, quite the opposite, it is tragic. Yet we can find solace in humour.

Thank you everyone who has sent me videos that have cheered me up and made me feel less alone.

Poems to give you hope

Here are two poems for today, both written in troubled times. Poetry seems to speak straight to the soul and poets great gift is to comfort us and speak to parts that need help-

The first one is by Siegfried Sassoon (1886 - 1967)
He witnessed the horrors of the First World war but wrote this poem about the beauty of bird song.

                         Everybody Sang

Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark green fields; on; on; and out of sight.

Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted,
And beauty came like the setting sun.
My heart was shaken with tears; and horror
Drifted away… O but every one
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing
    will never be done.


the second one is by Patience Strong. Her real name was Winifred Emma May (1907 - 1990) and my mum loved listening to her poems. She wrote poetry during the Second World war to lift up people's spirits and give them hope for peace.

Forget the times of trouble but not the truths they taught.
Forget the days of sorrow but not the strength they brought.

Forget the storms you battled through beneath a heavy load
But not the Light that lead you safely down the unknown road.

I feel thankful to people who wrote poetry that sums up what we are feeling.

A poem a day, a laugh a day, something good to eat a day, a smile a day, a comforting word a day, day by day, one step at a time.

I will end on a light not with a joke

Johnny goes to the doctor

'Doctor, doctor, I keep having a recurring dream. First I'm a wigwam, then I turn into a teepee. Then I'm a wigwam again and then a teepee. What's wrong with me?

The doctor replies, 'It's very simple. You are two tents.  ( too tense)

Smile though your heart is aching

You might recognize the title of today's post as the line of a song. There are so many songs about smiling, being happy. Out on a happy face, smiley happy people having n, and the one above, smile, though your heart is aching.
Smile at  yourself in the mirror when you wake up, it's the quickest facelift ever.
Smile at your friends and family. Smile when you go on Zoom, or whatever you are using.

Here is a quote by Mother Teresa of Calcutta about smiling

Smile at each other, amile at your wife, smile at your husband, smile at your children, smile at each other - and that will help you to grow up in greater love for each other.

I'll be missing you

Missing someone is a deeply ingrained embedded feeling within me. i have missed someone or other for as long as I can remember. It isn't a nice feeling. you could cal it a yearning, a longing and also an empty feeling of something lacking, something that you need that is not a part of you anymore, but was and you loved it. You loved it with all your being and it's not there anymore, it's like being in mourning. It never goes away.
I'm used to missing people and it doesn't make it easier just because you're used to it.
Right now everyone knows what ir feels like to miss someone. There are techniques to cope with that missing feeling, remember the happy times, treasure your memories, tell them you love them if they are still somewhere here,

TCWG Short story Journal 7

It's Palm Sunday today. I used to love being given a palm cross to take home from Sunday school. In Italy it is olive branches which are tied with ribbon and blessed.

It's someone special's birthday today. My youngest son.
The first thing I think of when there is a birthday is the cake. The first thing I do when I want to cheer myself up is bake a cake. the first thing I do when someone is coming for tea is bake a cake.
The first thing I remember doing with my mum in the kitchen was making a cake. She taught me with such patience, so gentle and sweet she was. We assembled the ingredients on the kitchen table, flour, eggs, sugar, butter. Then we weighed them out, took a large mixing bow, blue and white striped, a wooden spoon, a fork and a metal spoon.
First we creamed the butter and sugar with the wooden spoon.
When it was light and fluffy we whisked in the eggs with a fork.
When that was all mixed nicely we folded in the flour with a metal spoon.
This was the way we always made a cake. Calm, unhurried, gently, all our love going into the cake, knowing how happy everyone would be when they saw there was a cake for tea. Sometimes we would add chocolate, sometimes, lemon, sometimes coffee and walnut. It might be sandwiched together with raspberry jam and dusted with icing sugar, it might be sandwiched together with butter cream and topped with more butter cream or glace icing.
I have never used a mixer to make a cake, those motions of cream, whisk, fold bring back such sweet happy memories.

Why all this about a cake you might ask? Well it's my son's birthday, and thinking about cakes made me think that we all are a bit like a cake.
If you see pictures of those rainbow cakes, when they are sliced you see lots of different layers, each a different colour or flavour.
We are like that, on the top, the decoration might be plain, a scattering of almonds, a dusting of icing sugar or for special occasions cherries, piping, sugar figures, as fancy as you wish.
Underneath the layers for each of us is different, at the top maybe the things you share with casual acquaintances, those friendly faces you meet while out and about but you don't them very well, then another layer for more intimate friends where you will share information  about your family, the books you like reading, the films you watch, the hobbies you have. Then again another layer for closer friends and family where you will share your hopes, dreams and fears, and son on then right at the bottom there might be a dark place where you don't want to go, where your pain, disappointments, fears, nightmares lurk.


When you get down there go outside into the garden, onto the balcony and take a deep breath, look at the sky, look at the moon, the stars, the birds flying around, the swallows are already circling.
Think of a poem you like, a song that is in your heart and remember that we are all together travelling companions and looking out for each other.

Here is my poem for the day by Samuel Daniel (1562-1619) he had a to be a poet with a name like that

Now each creature joys the other
Passing happy days and hours,
One bird reports unto another
By the fall of silver showers;
Whilst the earth, our common mother,
Hath her bosom decked with flowers.

I think I will go and bake a cake now.

TCWG Short Story Journal 6

' People, people who need people are the happiest people'

'You don't realize how much I need you, love you all the time and never leave you,'

'When you go out into the traffic hold hands and stick together,

The first two lines are snippets of songs and the last one is from a book I read called 'Everything I need to know I learned in kindergarten.

That's what we must do now, stick together, help each other, in any way we can.

Obviously the front line workers are the doctors and nurses, but there are so many other people;rubbish collectors, policeman, shop assistants, lorry drivers, teachers and all the other key workers and there are so many of them.

Here is a quote from Thomas Carlyle (1795 - 1881) the Scottish philosopher, that might help us focus on what to do

'Our grand business undoubtedly is not to see what lies dimly at a distance, but to do what lies clearly at hand.'

TCWG SHort story Journal 5

The compliments of the season to my worthy masters and a merry first of April to us all!
Beshrew the man who on such a day as this, the general festival, should affect to stand aloof.
I love a Fool - as naturally as if I were of kith and kin to him.
I have never made an acquaintance that lasted; or a friendship that answered; with any that had some tincture of the absurd in their characters.
The more laughable blunders a man shall commit in your company, the more tests he giveth you, that he will not betray or overreach you,
And take my word for this, reader, and say a fool told it you, if you please, that he who hath not a dram of folly in his mixture, hath pounds of much worse matter in his composition.

Charles's Lamb's well-known essay on April Fools Day reminds us that there are worse faults than foolishness and that perhaps it is not wise to be wise all the time.
A little playing the fool cheers us.

TCWG SHort story Journal 4

Finding Solace

Hello everyone,

just a quick entry today ,
Here is my poem for the day by John Dryden (1631 - 1700) an English poet born in the delightfully named town of Alwinkle in Northamptonshire.
He lived through the Plague and the Fire of London.

As if the cares of human life were few
We seek out new,
And follow fate which would too fast pursue.
See how on every bough the birds express
In their sweet notes their happiness.
They all enjoy and nothing spare,
But on their Mother Nature lay their care;
Why then should man, the lord of all below,
Such trouble choose to know
As none of all his subjects undergo.


I hope you like it and find solace in reading a verse that makes us listen carefully to the birds singing on a spring day and fill our hearts with joy.

Just a reminder to wash your hands. This was the first thing we were told to do to protect ourselves. In Italy sixty seconds, In Britain sing happy birthday twice. I love washing hands with little ones, watching the bubbles get more and more abundant and making squishy noises.
Some people made fun of this, of course we wash our hands, how absurd to be told to wash our hands, but of course we don't wash hands afte the shopping, or touching a door knob, or a hand rail or pushing a lift button, well now we do, now we must.

TCWG Short story Journal 3

Essential tips,

Look after your physical, mental and spiritual health,
Eat well, simple and nutritious meals
Boost your immune system.
Sleep well
Try and keep a good timetable, going to bed and getting up at the usual times.

Try and get physical exercise, if you can go out for a walk, run or cycle ride keeping your distance from other people.
If you cannot go out then dance to some music, follow the exercises that our broadcast on television, anything to get you moving.

Look out for your neighbours and try and help anyone who needs it, if you are able to shop for the vulnerable.

Don't drink too much alcohol smoke or sugary drinks.

Try not to sit in the same position for long periods.

Look after your mental health.
Talk to people you know and trust.
Talk to others in your community.

Listen to music,
Read a book
Play a game

Get your information from reliable sources once or twice a day.

We must work together as one.

When you feel afraid remember these words from Martin Luther King
'Fear knocked at the door, Courage went to answer, There was nobody there.'

And this one which has helped me so many times over the years

Where you do not find love, put love - and then you will find love,
St.John of the Cross

TCWG Short Sories Journal 2

United we Stand


Good morning everyone. It's Monday. always a sort of hopeful day I think.
First of all thank you Val for reading and commenting. Val has a heartwarming and fascnating blog called Vallypee blogspot and has written wonderful books , a lovely one called Watery Ways.


Back to the present today because one of the pieces of advice we have been given by people in authority is to think about the present, clean your house, tidy your drawers, they say.

People in England ask me why we have more of a tragedy in Italy. Maybe, but who knows, the very charm of Italian life, what makes living in Italy with Italians is its enemy, but I don't know. One thing is certain that Italians love being together, hugging, kissing and shaking hands even if they had only seen each other an hour or so ago.
Every morning off we go to buy the paper, crowd into our favourite coffee bars, jostling for the best brioche. Large family gatherings at every opportunity.
The secret of  a happy life could be summed up as 'lots of cuddles and everyone together for Sunday lunch.
Now all those coffee bars are delivering free cakes and brioche to the hospital workers, the restaurants and shop immediately set up home delivery and wine tasting events online.

Kindness and helpfulness abounds as always here. I know so many wonderful people who already were doing all they could to help those in need.

Our lives are ones of shifting priorities, sometimes some people need us more than others, we can't be all things to all people even if we would like to.

As a child phrases like, 'united we stand, divided we fall', 'All for one and one for all', ricocheted round my head reading  books such as Little Women and the Three Musketeers. In our family we loved 'bundles', the moment my mum called out 'Who wants a bundle'' we would rush to her and huddles together, the dog in the middle. Sometimes it would just be her and me, but always, always it was like being in a fortress of love.

My husband suggested I made my journal entries brief or people wouldn't have time and energy to read them.

Here's my thought for today, people need people, we need each other. We need to live in communities where we can help each other and accept each other. A country could be judged on how well it is functioning if it is looking after the vulnerable, the children, the elderly and those in difficulty, whilst letting those who want to work hard and make loads of money are free to do so and enjoy it.
What do you think?

TCWG short story Journal 1

Last week I called an elderly friend to wish her a happy birthday. She was actually quite excited by this change in events, people were being kind to her like never before. She's used to being on her own at home and was enjoying the spring sunshine in the garden. She'd been out shopping and in Marks and Spencer they had given her the roses that were left over and some chocolate eclairs. She was delighted and told the girl at the till it was her birthday. The roses were stunning just perfect for her birthday, the sun was shining, her fridge was full, people were ringing up to see how she was that she hadn't heard from for years. She'd even been given a Christmas present that someone had forgotten to give her.
When I put the phone down a lump came to my throat, a sadness came over me, why do people have to wait for a common enemy to show how much they care?

TCWG Short Story Journal 0

Hello everyone,
I haven't written on this Blog much in the last few years. For those of you who followed me from the beginning you might remember that my daughter set this blog up for me so I could write a Blog instead of countless emails to my grown up children. For a long time I wrote about my own life, about the poems, songs, anecdotes, the people I love and who have accompanied me along the way, my love of nature, the sunset, the sunrise, a bit less often that, and then something strange happened. I stopped wanting to share myself, to bare myself as my cousin said.
I started to write short stories instead, so I could still write about what I hoped would be useful as sort of life lessons but I could use a bit of poetic license, exaggerate to prove my point. I discovered I loved writing short stories, they were more detached than my Cappuccino and Brioche Blog, I could make things up.

That is just a preamble to introduce myself, because now the leader of my writing group has suggested we all keep a journal for this terrible world wide tragedy.

The first entry of my journal can be found in my short story blog because I put it there by mistake, it's about my brother, if you would like to read it just click on the link to my short story blog.

This is my second entry

Ever since I can remember I thought about what if, what if I found my self in a certain situation, what would I do? How would I feel?
This way I wandered lost though woods like Hansel and Gretel and thought about how I would save my brother, I had nightmares about the Snow Queen and how horrible it would be to lose someone's love.

Once I left the world of childhood and fairy tales and started reading newspapers and watching the news I suffered imagining how I would survive, how I would protect those I love.
My head filled up with useful tips about how to survive an avalanche, by thrashing yourself about to create a huge space around you and then when you stopped, spit so you could see which direction to dig yourself out. If you were in a cable car on your own and for some reason it stopped and you were left dangling there all night then a huge repertoire of songs, poems and happy thoughts would help you .
Watching the film Titanic broke my heart imagining my dad or my husband in later years standing bravely on deck and waving at us in the lifeboat, smiling and saying not to worry he'd be fine and see us soon.  Being taken hostage, another horrific situation. Not being able to see very well without my contact lenses, and so on.
All this rambling just to say we must all have our own survival techniques tucked away inside. This could be a simple as closing your eyes and thinking of all the people you love, of imagining a favourite place to be and engaging all your senses. It could be doing something practical to calm your mind.

This all sounds like a lot of nonsense so please forgive me, I will try again tomorrow.

This is my second entry

If LIfe is a song, Love is the music

If music be the food of love,
play on,
Give me excess of it that
surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken,
and so die

So opens Twelfth Night by Shakespeare, it's rather self-indulgent but we all know what he means, in love as in other matters of the hear it helps if we can lighten up
If music be the food of love… then I'll have a Mozart sandwich,' Rowan and Martins Laugh in, and we laughed along glad we had paid enough attention a school to enjoy the joke.

Really though what I wanted to talk about today was how music can catch you unawares, music can make emotions erupt deep within you like a volcano spilling over from your heart and soul and make you happy or sad or sometimes just remind you of who you really are and the essence of what you wanted to be.
Some music can make you feel so melancholic bring tears to your eyes, bring back memories that had been hiding and you were totally unaware that they were even there.

We've all got a soundtrack to out life, we've all got songs from out favourite eras that never fail to make us feel all the passions and hopes flourish again in our spirits.

Here's mine for today, ' Do you love me?' Brian Poole and The Tremeloes,

I'm ten years old again, flinging myself around in a frenzy and feeling happy and full of love.

With a Little bit of luck ...

The word 'lucky' has never been one of my favourites. Seldom have I told anyone I think they're lucky.  Luck of course is random and unexplained. Luck can be obvious, like where you are born, what family you are born into, which country you are born into, health wealth can be considered luck.
I have a niece who has a very demanding job with people in difficulty and she says that she was so lucky with her family and childhood that she wants to give something back.

As we all exchanged New Year greetings and wishes and wrote messages and texts saying happy New Year, Peaceful New Year I was struck by one that was sent me which wished me a lucky New Year and it started me thinking about that word and realizing that I don't like it because I am a bit afraid of it.

Like most people I probably feel lucky if I'm looking for a parking place and one comes free, or the bus that I'm waiting for is the first to arrive, or if all the traffic lights are green and I just sail into town, but I'm wary of the word 'luck.'

This summer on holiday with my brother and his wife I got stung by a jelly fish, nothing so terrible you might think, but my knee swelled up and I started googling 'jellyfish stings' but my brother had some antihistamines and gave me one and the knee went obediently back to normal. Later on in the summer I got a splinter from my brother's garden furniture and my sister-in-law said how nice it was to have me around because I absorbed all the bad luck.  I looked at my brother and thought how happy I would be to take away any bad luck from him and well jelly fish sings and splinters on the scale of things are quite acceptable and my brother's granddaughter played nurse and made me better.

All this is just to wish all of you that follow my blog a very happy New Year and a pinch of good luck to protect you, and if you do get a splinter or a jellyfish sting may you have someone who cares who can make you better.