A while back, I pretty much gave up all the Socials, and I’ve found that I really do miss the things that made me laugh whilst scrolling. Usually, it was animals doing crazy things. Cats v dogs are always funny. Not so funny for the dogs, though, as they generally come out worse.
Years back, I lived and worked overseas, and together with one workmate/close friend,Mary, we would often find ourselves falling about laughing. I loved it, and I miss those days.
In fact, as I write my blog piece this morning, I can clearly see that I need to bring some joy back into my life. Oh dear, poor me, lol.
Edit. What I have failed to add is that there is a lovely blog here on WP. They often post jokes, which never fail to make me smile. Thank you
When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
The Lost Generation are those born between 1830-1900 and include Ernest Hemmingway, F.Scott Fitzgerald, T.S Elliot and Eleanor Roosevelt.
Currently, we are atGeneration Beta. Those born between 2025-2029
A.A.Milne, the creator of Winnie the Pooh wrote for adults too. Today’s DP brought this little poem to mind. There is also a book of the same name. ‘Now We are Six.
When I was One, I had just begun. When I was Two, I was nearly new. When I was Three I was hardly me. When I was Four, I was not much more. When I was Five, I was just alive. But now I am Six, I’m as clever as clever, So I think I’ll be six now for ever and ever.
A.A.Milne (1886-1956)
The following poem The Lost Generation was published in his book Behind the Lines, in 1940
YOU were the Lost Generation, decadent, nerveless, slack,
(Bom to the sound of the guns and of death dropping down from the air) ;
You slouched to your casual dates with a languorous curve to your back.
And we didn’t admire your manners, and loathed the length of your hair.
We stood in front of the fire-place and eased our stiffening hocks
(Wc who had fought in Flanders, we who had flown in France)
And damned the whole generation — you and your girlish locks ! —
Poor effeminate creatures, boys who had had no chance.
We pitied you more than blamed you ; what could you hope to be.
Born to the fear of war by frightened women, and then
Living your life with women whose men were over the sea ?
Taught to be men by women — how could you grow to be men ?
Youth of the Lost Generation, sons of the men that were.
Taught to be men by women who made you all that you are.
How could you grow to be men, who have grown to be gods of the Air,
Who have set in the skies for our nerving a flame of Faith like a star ?
Each night we crouch by the fire-place, and listen with tight-held breath,
Humbled to tears in wonder, strengthened to tears in pride,
As the Youth which we dared to pity makes casual date with Death,
“And, fired by a spirit we know not, goes off on its deathless ride. With which salute to brave men I close. It is June now ; one of those lovely, still, country evenings, blue and green and golden ; such an evening as almost compels faith in the doubting, courage in the fearful, by the calm and steadfast assurance of its beauty. Italy is in the war. France has fallen. Well, we are alone. Much will have happened before these words are in print, but, be it good or ill, may we live and die as gallantly as those happy few, upheld by something of their spirit.”
Behind the Lines was a collection of poems written during the first nine months of World War II, serving as a sort of diary of the war’s early days. The poem “The Lost Generation” specifically praises the generation that was “raised by women” and made fun of during WWI, but went on to fight during WWII.
Okay WP, I have given this DP some thought and have decided to change the word Understand for Remember.
I think maybe peeps really don’t often remember that they have no idea what may be coming around the corner. How their lives can totally change in a split second. Perhaps it’s a positive thing that they forget sometimes, else they may exist in a constant state of dread or hope. Neither a healthy option.
But around that corner could be many things. Are you ready?
How often do you say “no” to things that would interfere with your goals?
1982, in the US, as part of the ‘War on Drugs Campaign, led by Namcy Reagan,’ the term ‘ Just Say No’ was coined. Sadly, researchers view it as having being ‘ too simplistic’ ( no weight?) and deem it unsuccessful.
My favourite First Lady by far is Eleanor Roosevelt. ( The longest ever serving FL-12 years) A prolific writer, speaker, and activist for human rights. She encouraged self empowerment. What a woman!
“Do one thing every day that scares you.” She said.
Understanding that stepping out of your comfort zone builds character and resilience.
The bronze statue of Eleanor Roosevelt stands in West Potomac Park, Washington D.C.
Over the years, I have read many quotes attributed to her. I love this one…
” The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams”
What’s a secret skill or ability you have or wish you had?
A bit late to the table today with my offering. And it will be about Patch. Of course it will!
I once wrote about it being possible for him to communicate with me, so I could learn about his previous troubled life. And why, after 5+ years he gets really cross with me sometimes.
There have only been two other people I could tell he really didn’t like. In hindsight, he was spot on. It’s only me now he takes out his frustrations on.
On holiday in Cornwall, on the steps of our Shepherds Hut. He sits for the longest time, just taking it all in.
For today’s prompt, I would like the ability to sense what he does. Depending on which data you follow its estimated they have 100-300 million olfactory sensors, whist human have between 5-6 mil.
This means that dogs have a lot going on when they are out and about. I always notice when other dogs are not allowed to stop and smell the roses. With their people just walking them. I get it folk don’t always have the time to let their canine companions inspect every blade of grass. But to them it is everything.
Oh dear, WP. You’re asking a Brit about the weather. Don’t you know we have a bit of a reputation for chatting about it with anyone who will stand still long enough?
To be fair, we are islanders, so historically, it was a subject everyone wanted and needed to know about. Farmers and fishermen were especially aware of how quickly the climate can change and their livelihoods depended up on it.
By now, we in the UK have had enough. So when it was the hottest March day recently, since records began, it all kicked off, and it was wonderful. Lawns were mowed. Outside furniture painted. Curtains washed. Way to go!
The atmosphere was bordering on electric, palpable. The relief was immense. It was exciting. It was fun to see folk fired up and living in the moment.
Of course, there will always be miserable gits amongst us ‘ Hello, nice day,’ you’d say in passing. ‘ Won’t last’ they’d reply. Best give these kind a wide berth, but sometimes I want and occasionally do say ‘ look, if the worst thing that happens to me is I get soaked walking the dog, I’ve got off lightly’. Food for thought, I hope. Although it probably lands on deaf ears.
I do identify as a pluviophile. I love the rain. Obvs, it’s not very nice when it is accompanied by really cold conditions and strong winds and you have to be out there. But the rest of the time, it’s great. The icing on the cake is the puddles are where birds can drink and bathe in.
Mr Grant my English teacher was given the honour, this time last year. He was cool, no doubt about it.
But today thinking about those days I can’t honestly remember a thing he taught me. I certainly wasn’t singled out.
What does come to mind are pictures. I can see him striding into class, all shoulder-length hair and long legs. A coudory jacket moleskin trousers, desert boots.
I also remember his presence very well.This steadiness I have been writing about recently. He was from a lifetime ago,but today I can finally see it was what he brought to the room. And this is something I’m appreciating in fellow humans right now. That calmness.
There is a degree of unhinged I like too. Not in a chronic way. Just a flash of it, now and then is fun. Creatives do that well. It’s the light getting in
So, thank you, Mr Grant, I’m sure you taught me plenty in the short time you were at my school. I was gutted when you left.
Who needs a device to doom scroll? Not me, I can do it all in my head.
As Patch ages, he needs to go out more. So there are times I find myself awake, maybe 20 minutes or so, before sun up lying in bed in the dark, too alert to go back to sleep.
And so it begins..I think about animals caught up in war zones, I think about how our amazing planet is getting hammered inside out. The insane few fighting between themselves, but involving millions. I see the oceans, the waterways, and airways constantly polluted.
Our country is currently at the in-between stage of a cash and cashless society. A beggar asks if you have any spare change, and you realise you’ve not held any coins, or notes for that matter, for sometime, let alone it being spare. The situation must be causing numerous, widespread issues.
I see the kids with their faces, their heads, completely inside their phones. I don’t judge them, it’s what they do, how they live. But I do fear they are not connecting with anything else.
There are more online newspaper articles now by journalists as they watch their craft being replaced by A1.
The students with massive debts are hardly able to pay off the Interest on their loans. How are they supposed to get on the property ladder starting their young lives like this?
There are endless thoughts like these, keeping me company, first thing. And then a robin awakes and let’s me know of his existence with a beautiful song.
As it becomes light, he is joined by the chorus. And I thank the gods for that. Reminding me there is a beautiful world out there and not to forget that.
What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?
This time last year, I wrote about the world’s oldest known evidence of tattooing. Otzi the Iceman. A 3500 year old mummy, but ‘experts’ now reckon getting inked-up could go back 50,000 years.
Me getting a tattoo? Nah, that ship has sailed. But if I had to, they would be tiny symbols to honour my animals past and present, on the inside of my arms.
IN THE BOOMER PIGEON HOLE? 
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