The machinations around leaving the EU are all around us at this time. Whatever your view on the matter, it is not going well. It could be that we must suffer a great deal before we come out on the other side. I would offer this thought. People will risk all, including their lives, for freedom. Rarely will people have the same strength of feeling about wanting to stay in the control of others. When those who seek freedom are thwarted in their desires, then those who oppose them become their oppressors. They change from being the neighbour, the brother, the friend, to the enemy. When they rise up against oppression, they are seen by the establishment as now their enemy and a force of revolution that must be put down. Those seeking freedom will then find it only by looking through their prison bars and the liberal elite can continue their passive obedience to the madmen in control.

Not crazy ideas . .  just observations from history.
Our choice, hunter or scavenger.   

Recently we lost our good friend Eric to a terminal illness. Eric was a nature lover, a story writer and an accomplished poet. His only surviving relative has had a bench placed on the hill near Torrington and overlooking the river valley. A great way to remember Eric and how much he would have enjoyed to sit there himself . . . perhaps in spirit he will. Is it time to buy your own bench? Sit on it while you still can?

Many a time in life I have said these words, 'good old dad,' out loud. When something he taught me, told me or left me comes to use. An old fishing rod bag I use for aikido wooden weapons gave up the ghost the other day - the strap broke away.
I thought about sewing, or perhaps glue but then - inspiration !
Out in the garage I have a box of bits inherited from cobbling days. Amongst them were rivets. Must be 50 years old at least but as good as the day they were made. With judicious use of inherited tools the job was done. Clean easy and strong ... good old dad.

The Christmas Card.
 
Five days I watched the letter box,
and not a thing came though.
Then seventeen came all at once,
though sadly, none from you.
 
 
Such fears as come with policeman’s knock,
not knowing, why or how,
and still I long to hear your news,
so missed in life, right now.
 
 
Bright envelopes of every size,
to open each, a thrill.
With eighty seven on display,
there’s one, I wait for still.
 
                                              January 8th 2017  

Natural gardeners work their magic on a rock wall on the north Devon coast. Very few of us will ever achieve such perfection.

When I walked by this wood knot in a garden bench I thought, "hey, that looks just like a badger!"
I suppose a little imagination . . .  or alcohol,  is required.