Ladies in Lavender Silk

The Little Old Lady In Lavender Silk

~ Dorothy Parker 1931

I was seventy-seven, come August,

I shall shortly be losing my bloom;

I’ve experienced zephyr and raw gust

And (symbolical) flood and simoom.

When you come to this time of abatement,

To this passing from Summer to Fall,

It is manners to issue a statement

As to what you got out of it all.

So I’ll say, though reflection unnerves me

And pronouncements I dodge as I can,

That I think (if my memory serves me)

There was nothing more fun than a man!

In my youth, when the crescent was too wan

To embarrass with beams from above,

By the aid of some local Don Juan

I fell into the habit of love.

And I learned how to kiss and be merry—an

Education left better unsung.

My neglect of the waters Pierian

Was a scandal, when Grandma was young.

Though the shabby unbalanced the splendid,

And the bitter outmeasured the sweet,

I should certainly do as I then did,

Were I given the chance to repeat.

For contrition is hollow and wraithful,

And regret is no part of my plan,

And I think (if my memory’s faithful)

There was nothing more fun than a man!

***

 
I blushed when I was mentioned by Jeanne of Collage of Life in one of her Blog Love posts long, long ago.  In typically generous form, Jeanne initiated this concept to introduce readers to new sites and to provide encouragement to every-day blogspeople like myself who chronicle ordinary events from our little corner of the world.  The idea was to spread the word about our own favourite bloggers and those who have supported and influenced us.

On my list are folk who have legions of adoring fans and certainly don't need my help to raise their profile, but I mention them because they have influenced me in small, but significant ways - making me look at life a little differently, appreciate the small details of family life and igniting a long dormant creative spark.  

So here we go:

Distracted by Shiny Objects from A Tidings of Magpies -- who started it all for me through her poetry and reflections of life as a critical care nurse from Cincinnati.

Jo from A Cup of Jo -- who doesn't love Jo, Alex and Toby? OK, I'll go the back of the queue.

Kerry from A Tranquil Townhouse  -- extra special as she's from my town, knows my beat and always writes humorous and uplifting posts. Wise and wonderful. 

Tania McCartney  -- gasp!  So clever, crafty, energetic and stylish. Also from my town which is extra spesh.  In awe, I am.  Always.

A-M from The House that AM Built  -- love that Cape Cod/French Provincial/industrial decorating style and deeply moved by her ability to rise above personal travail.

Millie from The Laurel Hedge  -- mixes thoughts about her work, decorating and life with MOTH and five (FIVE!) sons

Meredy from Count it All Joy -- warm, honest insights into bringing up a large brood, with a spiritual touch. Responsible for my attempting a rainbow cake; not as good as her signature creation, but baked to an impressive height nonetheless.

Sharon from my french country home -- what a life, what a romantic story of her move to France.  Knows her way around French linen and lace, including granny's ancien bloomers and night attire, like no-one else.

Miss Parker might have though men were fun, but, by golly, these women, plus all the other gorgeous gals over there on the side bar {waving}, sure know how to enjoy life.   I don't have time these days to catch up on every one daily, but when I do gorge on multiple posts in the one sitting, it's always enthralling to see what everyone has been up to.  It's one of the wonders of modern technology that we can connect this way; scribble our thoughts or paste a photograph and reach more readers in faraway places than Ms Parker would have ever dreamed.

Childhood

A LONG AGO STORY.

"You may laugh, my little people, But be sure my story's true; For I vow by you church steeple, I was once a child like you." The Land of Long Ago.

The Honorable Members

Parliament Hill in the Evening
~ D.H. Lawrence

The houses fade in a melt of mist

Blotching the thick, soiled air
With reddish places that still resist
The Night's slow care.

The hopeless, wintry twilight fades,
The city corrodes out of sight
As the body corrodes when death invades
That citadel of delight.

Now verdigris smoulderings softly spread
Through the shroud of the town, as slow
Night-lights hither and thither shed
Their ghastly glow.

***

This #newscorpse saga is captivating.  Doesn't the House of Commons Question Time run ticketty boo?  So much the Australian Parliament could learn.  Fast and furious questioning (in an interesting mix of accents just like in a BBC costume drama).  Articulate, well-considered and alternately humorous questions in rapid fire.  Gripping viewing for the school holidays.  Perfectly timed.

There also seems to be a good proportion of women MPs in Westminster.  I'm in awe of Louise Mensch and Nicola Blackwood in particular - young, Conservative MPs and members of the two select committees conducting the hearings.

The seating arrangements in the UK Parliament are considerably more compact than the comparatively luxurious leather lounges in our chambers. Perhaps the more intimate surroundings and close proximity to the front bench, and each other, shoulder-to-shoulder, has something to do with the speed and vivacity of the debate.

The Rt. Hon John Bercow MP, Speaker of the House of Commons, is also a cracker.  Watch out Harry Jenkins.

The Sea and a bonnet

I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky;
I left my shoes and socks there - I wonder if they're dry?

~ Spike Milligan

OK so this is the Great Ocean Road, Summer of 2011.  Sigh.  Nostalgia. But we are heading to the beach briefly this weekend for the Winter of 2011.   South Coast NSW here we come!

Hey. It's Friday and no swimming lessons.  Charley and I plan to watch Emma on DVD.

I am still going through a major period drama phase.  Juxtaposed with total immersion in 21st century social media at work.  Living in different worlds entirely during business hours and after hours.  Discombobulating.

I do wish Mr Bates would tweet me.

Neglect and ...

Disobedience

~ A.A Milne

James James

Morrison Morrison

Weatherby George Dupree

Took great

Care of his Mother,

Though he was only three.

James James

Said to his Mother,

“Mother,” he said, said he:

“You must never go down to the end of the town,

if you don’t go down with me.”

James James

Morrison’s Mother

Put on a golden gown,

James James

Morrison’s Mother

Drive to the end of the town.

James James

Morrison’s Mother

Said to herself, said she:

“I can get right down to the end of the town

and be back in time for tea.”

King John

Put up a notice,

“LOST or STOLEN or STRAYED!

JAMES JAMES

MORRISON’S MOTHER

SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN MISLAID.

LAST SEEN

WANDERING VAGUELY:

QUITE OF HER OWN ACCORD,

SHE TRIED TO GET DOWN TO THE END

OF THE TOWN—FORTY SHILLINGS

REWARD!”

James James

Morrison Morrison

(Commonly known as Jim)

Told his

Other relations

Not to go blaming him.

James James

Said to his Mother,

“Mother,” he said, said he:

“You must never go down to the end of the town

without consulting me.”

James James

Morrison’s mother

Hasn’t been heard of since.

King John

Said he was sorry,

So did the Queen and Prince.

King John

(Somebody told me)

Said to a man he knew:

“If people go down to the end of the town, well,

what can anyone do?”

(Now then, very softly)

J. J.

M. M.

W. G. Du P.

Took great

C/o his M*****

Though he was only 3.

J. J.

Said to his M*****

“M*****,” he said, said he:

“You-must-never-go-down-to-the-end-of-the-town-

if-you-don’t-go-down-with ME!”

 

***

Poor sad, neglected blog.  Mother has been busy with her day job, birthday party baking and sweeping leaves from the front porch.  Too busy to take photos and write lucid posts.  I've been browsing lots of Apple i-tune app store freebies on the work i-phone while the children have their swimming lessons.  Three hours poolside and I need a distraction. The ABC app rocks.  I love Mark Scott, as isolated audiences do.  Yay for public broadcasters.  A mother's salvation. 

Except for that dreadful talkback program, Australia Talks (oh please no don't!) on the wireless at 6.00 pm every night when I'm boiling pasta and can't escape, and Andrew Ford presenting discordant "modern" orchestral music on the car radio every Saturday morning right when I'm driving to ballet lessons.  Oh, and poor old Norman on The Health Report, or rather, The Terminal Disease Report right when I'm driving to work and again on the return journey.  Wish the programming would change at my peak listening times.   Can't tune in to podcasts on a transistor radio.

Well it's a nice place to bring up children

Come and Join Us in Canberra  and rescue me.

Uptown Downstairs Abbey

Besotted.