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Here Comes The Rain Again...
The wall outside the window is painted cream but the morning sun- peeking between the cloud banks- is turning it yellow. This is the first we've seen of the sun since before Christmas- and it's welcome. I don't think it's going to stay. We had heavy rain over night and the app on my computer says it's raining now- which probably means it's raining in Goudhurst where the weather station is- and we're going to cop for it soon.
Yesterday lunchtime Ivy gathered her family round her via Zoom to play a round of the Horrible Histories board game- which must have been one of her Christmas presents. I'm a bit of a history buff and thought I'd ace it. As it was I came in last. One of the questions concerned Britain's first Prime Minister, Robert Walpole- "Who," I shouted into the aether, "Was even more corrupt that Boris Johnson!" No-one took me up on it- which was probably just as well. I once wrote a poem arguing that by pouring money into their priapic laps Walpole converted the English ruling classes from the arts of war to the arts of peace- and this was a good thing. It will have been prompted by something I read at the time and whether it's true or not I no longer have any opinion...
Which reminds me of story about Robert Browning and how an admirer once asked him to explain a line in one of his earlier poems- to which he replied, "When I wrote that only two people knew what it meant- God and Robert Browning- and now only God knows."
The sun has withdrawn- the wall is cream again not yellow- and the rain is back.
Yesterday lunchtime Ivy gathered her family round her via Zoom to play a round of the Horrible Histories board game- which must have been one of her Christmas presents. I'm a bit of a history buff and thought I'd ace it. As it was I came in last. One of the questions concerned Britain's first Prime Minister, Robert Walpole- "Who," I shouted into the aether, "Was even more corrupt that Boris Johnson!" No-one took me up on it- which was probably just as well. I once wrote a poem arguing that by pouring money into their priapic laps Walpole converted the English ruling classes from the arts of war to the arts of peace- and this was a good thing. It will have been prompted by something I read at the time and whether it's true or not I no longer have any opinion...
Which reminds me of story about Robert Browning and how an admirer once asked him to explain a line in one of his earlier poems- to which he replied, "When I wrote that only two people knew what it meant- God and Robert Browning- and now only God knows."
The sun has withdrawn- the wall is cream again not yellow- and the rain is back.
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