mjj (flemmings) wrote,


It was warm today-- cloth jacket warm, though the morning was still winter overcoat weather. Opened a window for the first time this year because bedroom was stuffy. (Will have to close it again- low of 5C is not open window weather; may indeed still be furnace weather.) For a month or more it's been the late winter world: bright hard-edged pure blue clarity: cloudy days have been pewter-silver and the world has seemed a welcoming place. But now for a few days it's spring: the grey louring overcast April-Easter kind of spring; and my SAD is biting suddenly and viciously, the more so for the delay in its arrival. I am, in a word, sad, with the melancholy of things as they are and the inexorable passage of time and the tattiness that April always brings with it. So I think I'll have a hot bath and go to bed early.


I had a bicycle called 'Splendid',
A cricket-bat called 'The Rajah',
Eight box-kites and Scotch soldiers
With kilts and red guns.
I had an album of postmarks,
A Longfellow with pictures,
Corduroy trousers that creaked,
A pencil with three colours.

Where do old things go to?
Could a cricket-bat be thrown away?
Where do the years go to?
-Arthur Waley
Tags: rl_14, verse

  • (no subject)

    As ever, a crossword clue took me to Keats Ode to a Nightingale, which I'd somehow managed never to read even as I see it quoted all over the…

  • (no subject)

    Half an ativan unaccountably failed to put me to sleep but did loosen the muscles up so that I awoke relatively limber. Two hours in the dentist's…

  • (no subject)

    Tomorrow's forecast: 'periods of snow mixed with rain. High 8.' Now, in my 70 years of experience (65 if you're counting Japanesely from 'when first…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded