Wednesday 22.02.2017

Back to gloves, jacket and three layers of woolly head protection: sunny enough and dry but Big Doris has sent in her handmaidens to prepare the air for her arrival so we staggered up the hill into a force-silly wind and scampered into the woods for some respite.
Love this wild weather as well as the panic in the radio presenter`s voice just now that the forthcoming snow "might move as far south as the home-counties borders"......how very dare it!

We could probably have hitched a ride home on the clouds if they`d dropped a tad lower.

Meanwhile thanks to https://twitter.com/anna_e_fisk for pointing me in the direction of https://brianbilston.com/

Better to discover late than never .....

AS I GROW OLD I WILL MARCH NOT SHUFFLE
As I grow old
I will not shuffle to the beat
of self-interest
and make that slow retreat
​​​to the right.

I will be a septuagenarian insurrectionist
marching with the kids. I shall sing
‘La Marseillaise’, whilst brandishing
homemade placards that proclaim
‘DOWN WITH THIS SORT OF THING’.

I will be an octogenarian obstructionist,
and build unscalable barricades
from bottles of flat lemonade,
tartan blankets and chicken wire.
I will hurl prejudice upon the brazier’s fire.

I will be a nonagenarian nonconformist,
armed with a ballpoint pen
and a hand that shakes with rage not age
at politicians’ latest crimes,
in strongly-worded letters to The Times.

I will be a centenarian centurion
and allow injustice no admittance.
I will stage longstanding sit-ins.
My mobility scooter and I
will move for no-one.

And when I die
I will be the scattered ashes
that attach themselves to the lashes
and blind the eyes
of racists and fascists.