Two Poems*

The Wind, One Brilliant Day – Antonio Machado

The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odour of jasmine.

"In return for the odour of my jasmine,
I'd like all the odour of your roses."

"I have no roses; all the flowers
in my garden are dead."

"Well then, I'll take the withered petals
and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain."

The wind left. And I wept. And I said
"What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you ?"









The Clay Jug - Kabir

“Inside this clay jug there are canyons and pine mountains,
And the maker of canyons and mountains!

All seven oceans are inside, and hundreds of millions of stars.
The acid that tests gold is there, and the one who judges jewels.

And the music from the strings no one touches, and the source of all water.
If you want the truth, I will tell you the truth:

Friend, listen: The God whom I love is inside.”

*Thanks to Jackie Leven

Sorry seems to be the hardest word ...

We all know that politicians are not whiter than white. And, I don’t think any of us are particularly surprised when they are caught with their pants down, proverbially or otherwise.

Of course, in the good old days, if a politician was found inflagrante with a rent boy, or prostitute, having an extra-marital fling or found to be cooking the books and lining their pockets, they followed best practice. They put their hands up, said sorry and then resigned gracefully.

A good example of this was John Profumo who died this week. He was embroiled in the biggest political scandal of the 1960s, apologised for his behaviour, resigned and lived a life of obscurity, while doing charitable works.

I can’t be alone in finding it very disturbing that our New Labour overlords have no similar grace under fire. They cling on to power with a grim determination, no matter what mud is being slung at them, and no matter how much has stuck. They look down their noses at us all, blame the media – and continue to look smug and patronising while they brave it out on the rare occasions they visit Parliament.

Tessa Jowell, and Met Police Commissioner, Ian Blair ( who I will lump in with the New Labour cadre, as he so clearly demonstrates all their horrible attributes ) are just the latest. And, yes, I do think Jowell deliberately ‘separated’ from her husband to save her political skin – that’s how cynical I think this Government is.

They sully their positions. Yes, they have been scrutinised and found to have, technically, done nothing wrong. But they are in positions of high responsibility. They need to have the respect of the people who they serve, and who serve under them. I can’t believe that either of these two people do.

A simple message, therefore, for the fragrant Tessa, and the politically correct PC, Ian Blair. Go. Go now. Gain a bit of credibility. You never know guys, it could be the best move you ever made!

Tessa repents all!













Blair admits he's wrong and prepares to commit hari kiri!

Cat in a jacuzzi

I thought I would kick off March with a blog-cliche, a picture of our fat cat Jess, wondering why we haven't filled the jacuzzi for her ...