Driving To Hadlow With Diversions

We drove to Hadlow - down windy, narrow country roads- using nothing but our sense of direction- and we were doing fine, heading straight for the tower of Hadlow Castle, when we found the direct road had been blocked off and we had to take a diversion. I was annoyed out of all proportion. We'd been doing so well.

Colin Wilson says human beings have an inbuilt sense of direction. Blindfold people and remove them from their homes and take 'em for long wiggly drives and at the end of the journey ask them where home is and they'll mostly point in the right direction. It's to do with magnetism. We can feel the pull of the poles. Strap a magnet to the heads of your experimental subjects and they'll be completely discombobulated. Same with pigeons. Stick a magnet on a homing pigeon and it'll fly around in circles feeling sorry for itself

Yes, I'm reading Colin Wilson. I find I agree with everything he says.

Here's a story he tells (but in my own words): Someone asked a Zen master for some words of wisdom. ZM wrote "Attention". The querant was disappointed. "Can't you make it longer than that?" ZM wrote "Attention, attention". "Fine, but what does it mean?" ZM wrote "Attention attention, attention."

After much research Wilson came- reluctantly- to believe in spirits. He'll know now whether he was right or wrong.
(He was right, of course.)

I wanted to go to Hadlow because Hadlow Castle has recently been restored and I wanted to see it. The tower is a lovely, slim, gothick fleche- like something transplanted from Bruges- erected by an eccentric squire in the early 19th century. When I was a kid and it was totally wrecked inside and safe only for pigeons I climbed to the top.  For many years now the tower has been a sad stump, clad in scaffolding and with its lantern taken down in case a high wind removed it forcibly into the churchyard. Now it's back the way it was- and people are even living in it (holiday lets, I believe).  This makes me very happy.

We Three Kings: Variant Versions

Here's a version from the 40s or 50s...

We three spivs of Leicester Square,
Selling Ladies underwear:
How fantastic,
No elastic,
Only a shilling a pair.

And another from the 60s

We three Beatles of Liverpool are
John in a taxi, Paul in a car,
George on a scooter,
Bipping the hooter,
Following Ringo Starr.

There must be loads more...

Well, Time's An illusion Anyway...

This morning's post brought a newly published poetry magazine which contains a poem I wrote and submitted for publication in the 1990s. As the editor writes in his covering letter, "What's a century here or there when you're enjoying yourself?"

A Sodden Solstice

I like the Google Doodle of the knitting hands but "first day of winter"? Surely not. I've never heard the solstice called that before.

Yesterday was bright and clear; today we haven't see the sun at all. Rain has fallen steadily. The Donkey House- a former stable that is now just a place where blackbirds nest- is flooded to a depth of an inch or two.  It stands on sloping ground and the water is pouring out the back wall- through gaps in the brickwork- with force enough to power a hamster-sized water wheel.