Poem of the month

Thursday, 1st November.

The poet must have been feeling pretty negative, when he wrote the following poem.
November by Thomas Hood
(1789-1845)
No sun--no moon!
No morn--no noon!
No dawn--no dusk--no proper time of day--
No sky--no earthly view--
No distance looking blue--
No road--no street--
No "t'other side the way"--
No end to any Row--
No indications where the Crescents go--
No top to any steeple--
No recognitions of familiar people--
No courtesies for showing 'em-- No knowing 'em!
No mail--no post--
No news from any foreign coast--
No park--no ring--no afternoon gentility--
No company--no nobility--
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member--
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,

November!

If today is anything to go by, November doesn’t seem too bad weatherwise. as it’s been lovely most of the day and I’ve been feeling not too bad emotionally, though my back is still pretty troublesome.Still a few leaves on the trees and lots of berries for the birds. Gardener was here, so of course a blackbird and a robin were hopping hopefully around after him. All is now nice and tidy and he planted my winter pansies where I can see them when I am at the sink. I always think pansies have wee faces and I especially like the blue and yellow ones. Had a look at the hyacinth bulbs from last year’s pots which are in the hut. Sat there a wee while feeling close to John Helen arrived. Talked about having doors on kitchen units painted, as they’re a bit shabby.

Went to Sandra’s later to see the kitten. He is just lovely and such a wee cutey. Climbed into a basket,then peeked over the top, scurried about the book case,then tried to climb up a plant.He ended up falling asleep on Sandra's shoulder. Must take the bairns to see him when they come down.

Stephen came in on way home from work. It was lovely to see him. Good blether,then the doorbell rang and it was Arthur. He looks more like Stephen’s brother than his dad. They are going to see Ray Lamontagne in the Playhouse tomorrow. I’ve heard the name, but don’t know much about him. A bit like Bob Dylan, Otis Redding Arthur said.

Not much on telly tonight, so did a little ironing and managed to finish my little hat. Have to wait to measure Robert’s head before I can complete balaclava.

Enjoying reading "To the Nines" by Janet Evanovich - one of the books Sandra gave me. It's very funny.