Cats, Stone Circles, Standing Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Cornish pasties, Stolichnaya, these are a few of my favourite things, traaa laaa!!
 
We just got three new kittens, Teddy; Tigger & Tawny little bundles of fluff with razor sharp claws and teeth!!!!
 
Those who love cats which do not even purr,
Or which are thin and tired and very old,
Bend down to them in the street and stroke their fur
And rub their ears and smooth their breast, and hold
Their paws, and gaze into their eyes of gold.

from "Cats" by Francis Scarfe



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Now from the dark, a deeper dark,
The cat slides,
Furtive and aware,
His eyes still shine with meteor spark
The cold dew weighs his hair.
Suspicious,
Hesitant, he comes
Stepping morosely from the night,
Held but repelled,
Repelled but held,
By lamp and firelight.

Now call your blandest,
Offer up
The sacrifice of meat,
And snare the wandering soul with greeds,
Give him to drink and eat,
And he shall walk fastidiously
Into the trap of old
On feet that still smell delicately
Of withered ferns and mould.

from "Calling in the cat" by Elizabeth Coatsworth

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Cats sleep
Anywhere,
Any table,
Any chair,
Top of piano,
Window-ledge,
In the middle,
On the edge,
Open drawer,
Empty shoe,
Anybody's
Lap will do,
Fitted in a
Cardboard box,
In the cupboard
With your frocks-
Anywhere!
THEY don't care!
Cats sleep
Anywhere.

from "Cats" by Eleanor Farjeon

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Hark! She is calling to her cat.
She is down the misty garden in a tatter-brim straw hat,
And broken slippers grass-wet, treading tearful daisies.
But he does not heed her. He sits still-and gazes.

Where the laden gooseberry leans over to the rose,
He sits, thorn-protected, gazing down his nose.
Coffee-coloured skies above him press upon the sun;
Bats about his mistress fliter-flutter one by one;

Jessamine drops her perfume; the nightingales begin;
Nightjars wind their humdrum notes; a crescent moon rides thin;
The daybird chorus dies away, the air shrinks chill and grey.
Her lonely voice still calls him-but her partner won't come in!

from "The cat" by Richard Church.

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My old cat is dead,
Who would butt me with his head.
He had the sleekest fur
He had the blackest purr,
Always gentle with us
Was this black puss,
But when I found him to-day
Stiff and cold where he lay
His look was a lion's,
Full of rage, defiance:
Oh, he would not pretend
That what came was a friend
But met in pure hate,
Well died my old cat.

For MY old cat "Harry"
from "My old cat" by Hal Summers

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Stately, kindly, lordly friend
Condescend
Here to sit by me, and turn
Glorious eyes that smile and burn,
Golden eye's, love's lustrous meed,
On the golden page I read.

All your wondrous wealth of hair
Dark and fair,
Silken-shaggy, soft and bright
As the clouds and beams of night
Pays my reverant hand's caress
Back with friendlier gentleness.

Dogs may fawn on all and some
As they come;
You, a friend of loftier mind,
Answer friends alone in kind.
Just your foot upon my hand
Softly bids it understand

from "To a cat" by A.C. Swinburne

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To begin with he was a beautiful object:
Blue crisp fur with a white collar,
Paws of white velvet, springs of steel,
A Pharaoh's profile, a Krishna's grace,
Tail like a questionmark at a masthead
And eyes dug out of a mine, not the dark
Clouded tarns of a dog's, but cat's eyes-
Light in a rock crystal, light distilled
Before his time and ours, before cats were tame.

To continue, he was alive and young,
A dancer, incurably male, a clown,
With his gags, his mudras, his entrechats,
His triple bends and his double takes,
Firm as a Ramases in African wonderstone,
Fluid as Krishna chasing the milkmaids,
Who hid under carpets and nibbled at olives.
Attacker of ankles, nonesuch of nonsense,
Indolent, impudent, cat catalytic.

To continue further : if not a person
More than a cipher, if not affectionate
More than automaton, if not volitive
More than mere conscious, if not useful
More than a parasite, if allegorical
More than heraldic, if man-conditioned
More than a gadget, if perhaps a symbol
More than a symbol, if somewhat a proxy
More than a stand-in -was what he was!
A self-contained life, was what he must be
And is not now : more than an object.

And is not now. Spreadeagled on coverlets -
Those are the coverlets, bouncing on chairbacks -
These are the chairs, pirouetting and sidestepping,
Feinting and jabbing, breaking a picture frame -
Here is the picture, tartar and sybarite,
One minute quicksilver, next minute butterballs,
Precise as a fencer, lax as an odalisque,
And in his eyes the light from the mines
One minute flickering, steady the next,
Lulled to a glow or blow to a blaze,
But always the light that was locked in the stone
Before his time and ours; at best semi-precious
All stones of that kind yet, if not precious,
Are more than stones, beautiful objects
But more than objects. While there is light in them.

from "The death of a cat" by Louis Macneice.....as you can tell I love sentimental poetry, in particular
Victorian prose.



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I got this on my Birthday card 3/5/52!! :

What all cats know about Living the Good Life

A....Act nonchalant
B....Be comfortable
C....Control yourself
D....Discriminate
E....Explore
F....Fake what you don't know
G....Grab at passing opportunities
H....Have a moment of wild abandon
I....Ignore the ignorant
J....Jog in your sleep
K....Knead people
L....Let it all hang out
M....Make friends with your neighbours
N....Nap often
O....Overstep boundaries
P....Play with your Food
Q....Quit while you are ahead
R....Return to your favourite places
S....See thing's others don't
T....Take your time
U....Understand human limitations
V....View things from more than one perspective
W....Wait at least 60 seconds before responding
X....X-pect only the best
Y....Yawn and stretch at regular intervals
Z....ZZZZZZZZZZZZ in the sunshine

Mmmmmmm kind of applies to humans too??!!

Thanks to FreeStyle cards!!!!

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Jimi Hendrix, am I a retro old git from the 60s? My wife Joyce Ann would agree with that!!!!
I don't know quite what it is about him, but....
when I hear the first opening chords from
"Little Wing", I am lost!!!! I think he
represented a BIG life change for me,
er.... back in the 60s, when I was a
teenager and The Beatles were still clean
cut young "Mop Tops", I was a relatively
clean living, level headed young lad.
The Stones were rebellious, yes, but still
they were musically from The R & B Establishment.

Then one evening I was eating my supper in
front of the teevee and Top Of The Pops came on
and Jimi played "Hey Joe!" and I was lost for
ever. I was too young and too far away from
London to know about the "Blues" boom that was
going on, so I had never heard a guitar solo
before, only those little guitar breaks in pop
songs. I forgot the supper, and back combed my
hair straight up and never looked back!







*************************************************
Born James Marshall Hendricks on November 7th,
1942 in the town of Seattle, Washington.
Born of father James and Mother Lucille, herself
the daughter of a full blooded Cherokee.
Began playing guitar at the tender age of 11,
self taught he learned from watching and listening
to other Blues guitarists.
He joined the US Army, the 101st Airborne, in 1961
aged only 18. Over a year later he had left the
Army and began his professional musical career
touring the Southern states with Rock and Roll
icon Little Richard!
Jimi became a back-up player for amongst others:
BB King; Sam Cooke; Ike and Tina Turner; The Isley
Brothers amongst others.
He felt constrained in theses back-up bands,
forever touring on the "Chitlin Circuit" for the
few dollars that filtered down from the "Names"
that fronted the tours. He left the tours, and
soon felt the hardships of going it alone, he even
had to pawn his beloved guitar to eat.
By 1965 he had reinvented himself as "Jimmy James"
and set off on a series of gigs in the dives and
clubs of the "Greenwich Village" area of New
York's hip centre.
The likes of Bob Dylan, the Beatles and The Stones
caught his act and raved about it to those back
home in England.
"Jimi Hendrix", superstar guitar hero was "born"
one night in 1966. At the Cafe Wha' Chas Chandler,
the one-time bassist for the Animals, sought out
Jimi. He was looking for acts to manage and bring
back to England. A deal was struck and Jimi left
for "Swinging" London! Chas found Noel Redding and
Mitch Mitchell and brought them together with
Jimi to form "The Jimi Hendrix Experience". Within
a few weeks of meeting and getting into the studio
"Hey Joe" the first single went to number 4 in the
charts and in May 1967 the follow up "Purple Haze"
went to number 3.
In May 1967 the first Hendrix album "Are you
Experienced" was released and went Gold, as did
the next three "Axis : Bold as Love"; "Smash Hits"
and "Electric Ladyland".
England made Jimi their own, they tok him to their
hearts and loved his music, yet he was still
relatively unknown in the USA. The festival at
Monterey changed all of that. Jimi blew away the
likes of more establishes acts like "The Stones"
and "The Who" easily, he wasn't afraid to let
himslef go into long improvised solos and to get
away from the constraints of the formulaic pop
song. He sold out tour after tour, still producing
music far advanced for the more conservative pop
music of the day, he invented many of the guitar
playing techniques taken for granted to-day.
Yet by November 1968 it was all going horribly
wrong. The Experience broke up. Jimi returned to
America and throughout 1969 his performances were
rare and apart from his closing performance at
the "Woodstock" Festival in August mainly
unexceptional.
He formed the "Band of Gypsies" in 1970 with some
old army buddies, a more funky sound came from
his new group.
Jimi returned to England for the "Isle of Wight"
festival, but viewers of the video tape of Jimi's
performance cannot help but see a man in pain, his
playing perfunctory, throwing away his trademark
licks and fills in an out of tune, sloppy and
tired fashion. He was not the Jimi of a few years
earlier who could lift your spirits to a different
stratosphere, he was a Jimi who had come to a wall
at the end of a cul-de-sac.
Then on Friday, September 18th, 1970 he was dead.
The man who wrote and sang so sweetly :

Well, she's walking through the clouds
with a circus mind that's running wild.

Butterflies and zebras and moonbeams and fairy
tales,
that's all she ever thinks about...
Riding with the wind.

When I'm sad she comes to me
with a thousand smles she gives to me free,

It's alright, she says, it's alright,
take anything you want from me, anything.

Fly on, Little Wing.

***********************************************




**************************************************

O.K. so her is MY biography!!!

Age : looks 37 {yeah right!!} but is in reality 47
Status : Married, to Joyce Ann, a gorgeous
American lady. The downside is that she
has to live in Florida for a lot of the
year. So I am a married bachelor, kinda!
She was my penfriend before we met, and
it would have been love at first sight
but for the fact that she had already
married another penfriend! Luckily for
me he turned out to be more interested
in geting his "Green card" than he was in
making his marriage work. So I was able
to make MY dream come true!
I live : in the South west of England, Devonshire.
Only 20 minutes from Dartmoor.

 
Witchcraft, Wicca and a good alternative to mainstream religion ????
My Interests:
  • Art and Artists
  • Books/Magazines
  • Cars/Motor Racing
  • Comedy
  • Computers/Technology
  • Conservation/Environment
  • Counterculture
  • Fashion
  • Food/Drink
  • Health/Fitness
  • Irish Culture
  • Movies/TV
  • Music: Blues
  • Music: Country
  • Music: R and B, Soul
  • Music: Rock and Pop
  • Natural Sciences
  • Paranormal
  • Pets/Animals
  • Photography
  • Pubs and Clubs
  • Science Fiction
  • Shopping
  • Socialising
  • Travel

My wife Joyce Ann, renowned Icon Painter, got my interests in this subject to be rekindled after many a year's lapse! I t is a fascinating subject, but you are either a believer or you are not, no amount of persuasion will sway you!
Approach without fear,
you who know me in your heart,
for I speak to you
with the voice of the winds
and the shoreline
in the hem of my robe.

I am the breath of hope
which is born in the East,
the Maiden,
the new morning,
the promise of Spring.

Mine is the power
which burns in the South,
the Mother,
the midday warmth,
the blessings of Summer.

I will draw you to me
as the day fades in the West,
the Wise Woman, the healer,
the mourner of the waning year.

And when the bitter wind
blows from the North,
bidding life withdraw,
to rest, to dream,
I beckon you as Crone,
as the dark Mother,
the seed of life preserved
in the bare Earth,
from which you have been born
and will be borne again.



*****************************************************************************

If you would like to know a little more about Witchcraft then you could always try
this web site :
http://www.i-netmail.com/shops/witchingwell/index.htm

here you will find LOTS of links to other sites and you
can judge for yourself, e-mail me and let me know what
you think of Wicca and Witchcraft, what is your perception
of their meaning?




 
Favourite Links
 

Jimi Hendrix Theme
A very nice theme for your PC, the music is a tad fuzzy...but still....GREAT!!!!!


Corbis Image Library
Go straight to the free download section for lots of excellent themes and savers.


Red Meat
Bizarre; Strange; Weird; Silly; Funny; Odd; just a few adjectives to describe this cartoonists web site - worth a visit if you have a peculiar sense of humor just like mine!!!!

Email me at:
herne@greenlane74.freeserve.co.uk

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