From my notebook this morning: @ 6.30 I wake from a dream. I've been hired to work on a huge project in a vast atrium with futuristic architecture and split levels. mostly open plan like a crazy palace. But I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I've had no meaningful interaction with anyone—they're all… Continue reading PS to my last: a nightmare project
I Can’t Write Like That Any More
My wife and I decided to "drop out" in 1970. The trigger was our friend Dudley Hargreaves, who'd spent his time since leaving university at a kibbutz in Israel, where they held everything in common and had little use for money, if I remember correctly. Having nowhere to stay in England, he dropped by for… Continue reading I Can’t Write Like That Any More
Some posts from 2008
https://rochereau.wordpress.com/2008/10/22/boundless/ https://rochereau.wordpress.com/2008/11/02/dress-code/ https://rochereau.wordpress.com/2008/02/23/the-snowdrop-garden/ https://rochereau.wordpress.com/2008/02/29/belonging/ https://rochereau.wordpress.com/2008/03/09/bus-station/ https://rochereau.wordpress.com/2008/03/23/ant-slug/
Posts from 2007
A poem from Scot
Going through old posts I looked at Memory's Carillon. There were some very nice comments including this poem by Scot. for vincent one too many of us spend our lives running running to find that perfect job that equals that perfect life never crossing the finish line finding the running never wins the race few… Continue reading A poem from Scot
Letters From Babylon, 14th Jan to 10th Feb 2007
Four More Rescued Posts
If only I could write like this today ... https://rochereau.wordpress.com/2013/05/27/dreaming-of-paris/ https://rochereau.wordpress.com/2011/12/15/in-memory-of-george-whitman-1913-2011/ https://rochereau.wordpress.com/2011/08/11/capturing-the-moment/ https://rochereau.wordpress.com/2011/07/31/life-illusion/
Rescued From the Past — 3
More Posts Rescued from the past
Eternity in the City
Another reconstructed post: original is here [This was written in the early Nineties and published on a website, before the dawn of blogs.] Cloistered all day, I had forgotten once again that an outside world existed. In a windowless office I saw no seasons, no day, no night. There was only harsh lighting, never switched… Continue reading Eternity in the City
The Panicky Sheep (Life’s Predicament)
Originally posted on 4th January 2010, corrupted since, now restored Woke up this morning to recall that it’s my first ordinary day for weeks. I've emerged from a season of interruptedness, in which celebration took the form of reuniting with family; not all at once in a single gathering but serially; noting my kinship and… Continue reading The Panicky Sheep (Life’s Predicament)
Three Love Sonnets
Please share your thoughts. Which do you like best or least, and why? My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked,… Continue reading Three Love Sonnets
Diagnosis: it’s a Love Song
We went to the Diagnostic and Musculo-Skeletal Clinic this morning, known as MSK and often pronounced Music. My beloved has a chronic pain in her shoulder from straining to lift a heavy sofa months ago. While I was in the reception area I read the poetry book I'd brought along and hit on the one… Continue reading Diagnosis: it’s a Love Song
Liking or commenting
Back in the day, there were usually comments on my posts, e.g. the one on the Book of Gilgamesh, which had 50, and Time Consumes, Art Distils , which had 12. These days there are no comments, only Likes, by bloggers I'm following or have seen my posts on Facebook, Instagram or X Twitter. You'll notice… Continue reading Liking or commenting
Our Front Yard
as it looked on May 2nd 2022 I've finally got round to fixing the bench in our front yard. It's made of decking planks supported on 3 brick pillars. It's comfortable: you can lean back and rest your back on he windowsill. I built it ten years ago, and the pillars have periodically broken as… Continue reading Our Front Yard
The Phoenix Trail
first published on 17th Feb 2011, photos restored today The trail largely follows the route of a disused railway line, the Wycombe Railway, which connected Princes Risborough and Thame with the city of Oxford. The line through Thame remained open until 1991 to serve an oil depot based in the town. (Wikipedia) It's open to pedestrians, horses,… Continue reading The Phoenix Trail
The Naked Ape
This was published on 15th December 2018. It's another post rescued from perpetual-lab.blogspot.com, which no longer exists. There's a determinedly atheistic* elite of do-gooders who care more about “the planet” than those who fall foul of their holier-than-thou values. Prime example: President Macron of France had imposed a carbon tax on fuel to help save… Continue reading The Naked Ape
First published on September 25th 2011, rescued from oblivion today Some days are special gifts but it takes something else, some extra gift to be able to share them. When I say days, I mean moments within days. And when I say special, I refer to some magic visible only to the inner eye. A… Continue reading
The Charabanc of Trippers
previously published 13th May 2014 on Perpetual-Lab, somehow lost in transit I didn’t explain what happened to the book Wayfaring, which was briefly published under Creative Commons in pdf, before being withdrawn from free distribution. I feel no compulsion to give a reason, but here are two. (a) Uncertainty (b) a decision to postpone publication… Continue reading The Charabanc of Trippers
To Laurence Ferlinghetti
previously published on 20th May 2014, lost and restored today This is for you, dear poet of my youth, still 23 years and 21 days older than me (therefore 95), still here with the rest of us, enabling me to write this with a possibility it might reach you. I would say I’ve admired you… Continue reading To Laurence Ferlinghetti
Along the Phoenix trail
Originally published on 25th Feb 2011, before the photos got corrupted. Now restored It was the most spring-like day this year and the urge to be out in it without delay overcame lengthy consideration of where to go. I considered the Phoenix trail to be unfinished business (see post before last) because I hadn’t walked… Continue reading Along the Phoenix trail
Then and Now continued
Dress Female Dress (1890 edition) It is well known that a loose and easy dress contributes much to give the sex the fine proportions of body that are observable in the Grecian statues, and which serve as models to our present artists, nature being too much disfigured among us to afford any such. The Greeks… Continue reading Then and Now continued
Enquire Within: Then and now
This morning one of the houses on Green Street left an open cardboard box full of books. only one was of interest to me: Enquire Within, by Moyra Bremner. I helped myself as intended by the owner. That's what we do round here. I've left things out myself on occasion, they don't stay long. I've… Continue reading Enquire Within: Then and now
The Golden Ball
Originally published on September 9th 2010, but got corrupted somewhere. Now restored to its original form
Martin Buber, I and Thou (yes, you’re invited)
Transcribed verbatim from a 9-page manuscript which I found on a bookshelf while looking for something else. It was written in early 2017, not long after I'd been diagnosed with CLL—Chronic lymphocytic leukemia, and before treatment with chemotherapy, which didn't work for me. For the last seven years I've been taking a daily pill (ibrutinib)… Continue reading Martin Buber, I and Thou (yes, you’re invited)
It’s All a Work in Progress . . .
(originally published in Blogger on 16th February 2017) . . all bar the Eternal, which simply smiles. This is what happened to my recent post "All Actual Life is Encounter" Feb 1st: I started drafting the post , after arriving home from a trip to the Island. Feb 9th: published. Feb 11th: added a category… Continue reading It’s All a Work in Progress . . .
Don’t Give Up
Google is spooky. How did my phone know I'd yesterday published a post on an impassioned song of Peter Gabriel? And then tell me a recent story from American Songwriter? It's republished here, What is “Don’t Give Up” about? What inspired Gabriel to write it? And who was Gabriel’s unexpected original choice for a duet… Continue reading Don’t Give Up
Stuff Coming Out, Stuff Going in
I have a spiritual relationship with Peter Gabriel, as I've written about here. In the last couple of years he's been working on a new album, I/O Here's the lyrics for the video above: I'm just a part of everything I stand on two legs and I learned to sing It's not what was said… Continue reading Stuff Coming Out, Stuff Going in
Our Trip to Brussels in 2016
On 22 March 2016, two coordinated terrorist attacks in and close to Brussels, Belgium, were carried out by the Islamic State (IS). Two suicide bombers detonated bombs at Brussels Airport in Zaventem just outside Brussels, and one detonated a bomb on a train leaving Maelbeek/Maelbeek metro station in the European Quarter of Brussels. Thirty-two people… Continue reading Our Trip to Brussels in 2016
Who was Fernando Pessoa?
Here are three fragments posthumously found in his trunk: I've reached the point where tedium is a *person, the incarnate fiction of my own company The outer world exists like an actor on stage: it's there but is something else. ... and everything is an incurable illness. The indolence of feeling, the frustration of never… Continue reading Who was Fernando Pessoa?
The Book of Disquiet, continued . . .
I've here chosen some excerpts from my Kindle version of the complete manuscripts found in the trunk in his Lisbon apartment after his death. The Richard Zenith paperback version makes careful selections, and it's easy to find examples worth reproducing by turning real pages. I had a first go at it in my earlier post.… Continue reading The Book of Disquiet, continued . . .
My New Blog
See it here. It's a selection of posts from Wayfarer's Notes over the years. I've focused on travel abroad, such as one of our trips to Jamaica, or to Amsterdam but there are some early posts as well, e.g. Spring is Sprung, Time Consumes, Art Distils Let me know what you think, in comments there… Continue reading My New Blog
The Book of Disquiet . . .
. . . to be continued in my next Fernando Pessoa's book is my favourite of all time, and I'd like to share with you some of the things I love his writing for and revere the man, not just the author, for his profound insights about life, the world and everything. He achieved this… Continue reading The Book of Disquiet . . .
He Wasn’t OK
To be OK, according to Thomas Harris, we need to understand the nature of our "transactions" with others. Well, for starters, I totally disagree with that. Setting that aside, we need to understand how he so confidently reaches this decision. Having set myself this task, I find his book to be unnecessarily long and tedious,… Continue reading He Wasn’t OK
Lucid Waking
first published on 15th March 2017 I see things as imbued with meaning, like fragments written in a foreign language. Sometimes I can decipher them; sometimes even put them in English. For instance, from my bedroom window I can see the Victorian factory opposite. I wake as the early sun catches its gable ends. As… Continue reading Lucid Waking
my turn to write something
108 Friday 22nd March 3.55 am Woke a while ago. Calm, interested in what is going on —find words that fit. Settle on "The Accidental Encounter". So powerful and evocative as the title… Continue reading my turn to write something
Bullets, Bach, Bubbles and Babies
Any system you contrive without us will be brought down We warned you before and nothing that you built has stood Hear it as you lean over your blueprint Hear it as you roll up your sleeve Hear it once again Any system you contrive without us will be brought down You have your drugs… Continue reading Bullets, Bach, Bubbles and Babies
On Being the Villain
The Newly Pressed Suit, by Roger McGough Here is a poem for the two of us to play Choose any part from the following: The hero The heroine The bedroom The bed The newly pressed suit (I will play THE VILLAIN) The poem begins this evening at a poetry reading where the hero and the… Continue reading On Being the Villain
from The Energy of Slaves . . .
O darling (as we used to say) you are wide-hipped and kind I'm glad we ran off together We are not exactly young but there is still some pleasure to be squeezed from these leather bags Even as we lie here in Acapulco not quite in each others' arms several young monks walk single-file through… Continue reading from The Energy of Slaves . . .
A Passenger’s Dream Bus Conductress
by Liverpool poet Roger McGough She is as beautiful as bustickets and smells of old cash drinks Guinness off duty eats sausage and mash but like everyone else she has her busdreams too when the peakhour is over and there's nothing to do. A fourposter upstairs a jukebox inside there are more ways than one… Continue reading A Passenger’s Dream Bus Conductress
The great loves of Leonard Cohen’s life
In a mood of heightened awareness, I went down to lay the table for breakfast and asked Alexa, robotic woman with a Canadian accent, to play songs by this great gentleman genius, born in Quebec. This is copied from CBC music, as written by @_AndreaWarner Cohen's charisma was part prophecy (he claimed to be a… Continue reading The great loves of Leonard Cohen’s life
Pastures new
Cousin Fiona from near the top drawer Is a blue blood donor and Kensington bore. A moderate showjumper plain and weakwilled Cousin Fiona is never fulfilled. For what she wants but will never admit is a man to take her by the bit. Someone to jog with snog with Look in her eyes canter banter… Continue reading Pastures new
Rain Stops Play . . .
. . . if we're talking cricket; or "let's take a rain-check", if baseball is your game: Today is not a day for adultery The sky is a wet blanket Being shaken in anger. Thunder Rumbles through the streets Like malicious gossip. Take my advice; braving The storm will not impress your love When you… Continue reading Rain Stops Play . . .
Who was the Naughty Girl?
Who was the naughty girl I saw combing her hair with a bluebell Who was the naughty girl I saw paying her fare with a seashell Who was the naughty girl I saw sawing the seesaw in two Who reported Dr Barnardo to the NSPCC Peter Scott to the RSPB Who sent the Pope a… Continue reading Who was the Naughty Girl?
From Nan’s Notebook
see https://sayitnow.wordpress.com/ Let’s Change the Subject February 29, 2024 Nan God, Religiongod is a crutch, supernatural entity, the attributes of god, who is god really I am so SICK … SICK … SICK of politics!!!!! ESPECIALLY news/posts/comments/editorials/etc. about TRUMP!!! I want to stay positive about the state of our country, but the news media and a countless number of blogs won’t… Continue reading From Nan’s Notebook
The Ideal Man
on the first of March 2024 Woke up this morning feelin' fine There's something special on my mind Last night I met a new girl in the neighborhood, whoa yeah Something tells me I'm into something good (Herman's Hermits) We finished our usual morning tea but not the crossword, as you can see. Feel free… Continue reading The Ideal Man
Knowledge of Angels
. . . by Jill Paton Walsh Some readers will find there is altogether too much theology in this novel, especially of the medieval kind, with inquisitors, hermit scholars, narrow-minded nuns and much repression of thought and action. After first reading it 25 years ago and re-reading recently, I get a different impression: that it’s… Continue reading Knowledge of Angels
Sunday Morning Crossword
In bed with our cups of tea, we take it in turns to fill in the answers, mine marked with a slash and hers with a tick. It's one of the best games you can play in bed while sitting side by side; evenly matched today. By the bye, I've been invited to write a… Continue reading Sunday Morning Crossword
The Random Kindness of Strangers
Wishing to repay the generosity he encountered during his journeys, George Whitman founded his bookstore in 1951 with the motto “be not inhospitable to strangers lest they be angels in disguise” and threw open the doors to all sorts of writers, artists, and intellectuals who sought refuge. I went to Lidl this morning to buy… Continue reading The Random Kindness of Strangers
children’s photos (plus a grandchild)
1973 Tristan (dressed as if wounded), Judy, Patti Dorman & her 2 children, plus a third child holding William (5) & Catherine (1) in High Wycombe, 1990
A Midwinter Night’s Dream
I originally posted this elsewhere on Feb 13, 2023 I meet this wild girl at a strange event, outdoors and indoors, it keeps changing like a chameleon. At first it’s just a place where people are gathered, like a town square in Italy, with café tables open day and night till late. It’s all well-mannered… Continue reading A Midwinter Night’s Dream
Delicious, Not Precious
Previously posted on Finnegan's. May 11, 2020, updated here From the Church Times 02 MAY 2014 DR DENISE INGE, who died on 20 April, aged 51, was an author, academic, and adventurer who grew up in a "large and rambunctious" family, the descendants of Mennonite settlers, on the east coast of America. She crossed the… Continue reading Delicious, Not Precious
“Eccentric and Mediocre” – a Moment Captured in Time
Originally drafted 7th January 2007 on "perpetual-lab" in Blogger and never published there. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve chosen eccentricity as an alternative spiritual path. I was encouraged down this track by reading John Cowper Powys, who I consider to be the greatest novelist in English of the twentieth century, despite being hardly known.… Continue reading “Eccentric and Mediocre” – a Moment Captured in Time
– but if a look should april me . . .
. . . a poem by e.e. cummings, and if you perceive typos below be sure they're exactly what he wrote and published darling!because my blood can sing And dance(which does with each your least your any most very amazing now or here)let pitiless fear play host to every isn’t that’s under the spring -… Continue reading – but if a look should april me . . .
may i feel said he
another poem by e e cummings
an american speaks about hungary in 1956
THANKSGIVING (1956) a monstering horror swallows this unworld me by you as the god of our fathers' fathers bows to a which that walks like a who but the voice-with-a-smile of democracy announces night & day `all poor little peoples that want to be free just trust in the u s a' suddenly uprose hungary… Continue reading an american speaks about hungary in 1956
A Voice Through a Cloud—2
Here are some more pages, copied for our enjoyment of Denton Welch's fictional autobiography. I can copy more if I get positive comments. "Likes" are easy bribes to get readers to visit their sites. (Nothing wrong with that: Google needs dollars so as to offer its magnificent search engine free.) He began quietly to X-ray… Continue reading A Voice Through a Cloud—2
A Voice Through a Cloud—1
This book is one of my favourites of all time. bought another copy and enjoyed re-reading it when recently confined to my hospital bed. The first time I read it I believed it was all true, and marvelled at the detailed precision of his memories. There's nothing in the book that indicates otherwise, until you… Continue reading A Voice Through a Cloud—1
“response to Gentle eye’s comments” – further update
Previously written in early July '23 in a rough and ready form, a few days before admission to Stoke Mandeville Hospital/ Extensively corrected today, with additional material . "Much dependence on morphine, codeine, paracetamol and tramadol. "What I said about convalescent home and part time nurse was a disguise of the facts. Dunno why. Oh… Continue reading “response to Gentle eye’s comments” – further update
Tirade against the Cretinocracy
Reading this book has helped liberate me from an obscure species of writer's block: see my underlinings below. It's also fun to read an iconoclast who likes to break the rules of what's currently acceptable to say: see the paragraph at bottom in burnt orange. Bu I wouldn't dream of imitating him outside these four… Continue reading Tirade against the Cretinocracy
Traherne 3, by Denise Inge
Edited from this article in the Church Times The poetry of Thomas Traherne (written sometime before his death in 1674) has often seemed purely and innocently devotional in comparison with that of George Herbert, John Donne, or Richard Crashaw, poets whose religious work, at least occasionally, is sexually explicit. ‘Until recently’, Denise Inge comments in… Continue reading Traherne 3, by Denise Inge
Thomas Traherne 2, by Frances Towers
Childhood and education Traherne’s writing powerfully recreates both the innocence of his infancy, in which he was ‘Entertained like an Angel with the Works of GOD’, and his fall, as he was ‘made to learn the Dirty Devices of this World’ (Centuries, 3.2, 3). His experience was paralleled by that of Hereford; the royalist city,… Continue reading Thomas Traherne 2, by Frances Towers
Thomas Traherne Centuries, 1
Author’s inscription on the first leaf of CENTURIES OF MEDITATIONS This book unto the friend of my best friend As of the wisest Love a mark I send, That she may write my Maker’s prais therin And make her self thereby a Cherubin. An empty book is like an Infant’s Soul, in which anything may… Continue reading Thomas Traherne Centuries, 1
Museum Without Walls . . .
. . . by Jonathan Meades Just reading the first couple of pages inspires this blogger who isn't much read these days, and whose orange notebooks are not read by anybody—except perhaps their author, once in a while
Not what we were taught at school …
"Eureka!" Now he can't wait to tell the world
Confession of an Inky-fingered writer
Iwasgoing to throwaway my keyboardbut it still works if you hit the spacebar near the middle. A good way to slow down and think what you write. I'mobsessed with fountain pens. This more than anything else is probably my reason for scribbling voluminous notes in dozens of orange notebooks in a near-illegible style. There’s also… Continue reading Confession of an Inky-fingered writer
A Little Lower than the Angels
Thou madest him a little lower than the angels; thou crownedst him with glory and honour, and didst set him over the works of thy hands: Thou hast put all things in subjection under his feet. For in that he put all in subjection under him, he left nothing that is not put under him.… Continue reading A Little Lower than the Angels
The Testament of Light (1)
PREFACE In this anthology, though for the sake of convenience it bears another title, the thread of an earlier argument is resumed: the three sentences of Chekhov which closed the first volume provide the prelude to the second. The Pattern of Courtesy differs from The Testament of Light not in spirit or general aim, but somewhat in… Continue reading The Testament of Light (1)
The Pattern of Courtesy
Gerald Bullett was born in London . . . and educated at Jesus College, Cambridge. During the Second World War he worked for the BBC in London, and after the war was a radio broadcaster. Bullett also contributed to the Times Literary Supplement. Politically, Bullett described himself as a "liberal socialist" and claimed to detest… Continue reading The Pattern of Courtesy
Freud and superstition
I'm cataloguing my bookshelves, and was attracted to this one by its cover showing cards from the Tarot pack. Just as I was years ago when I bought it from a stall in the Old Amersham Market. The author quotes Freud in these words: Our patient was to a high degree superstitious, and this although… Continue reading Freud and superstition
Gratitude
I am now face to face with dying, but I am not finished with living. Foreword IN THIS QUARTET OF ESSAYS, written in the last two years of his life, Oliver Sacks faces aging, illness, and death with remarkable grace and clarity. The first essay, "Mercury," written in one sitting just days before his eightieth… Continue reading Gratitude
Awakenings, Part 2
This is my favourite piece of writing ever. I make no apologies for reproducing it here in full, but give thanks to the the copyright holder Oliver Sacks, © 1985, who died in 2015. Rebecca was no child when she was referred to our clinic. She was nineteen, but, as her grandmother said, 'just like… Continue reading Awakenings, Part 2
Awakenings
Last night we watched Awakenings on Netflix: a moving portrait of inmates in a secure mental hospital in the Bronx. Dr Sayers, pictured below with his patient after successful treatment, plays the part of neurologist Oliver Sacks. The inmates are all suffering from encephalitis lethargica, a mysterious disease described in Wikipedia as attacking the brain,… Continue reading Awakenings
International Strips
English Childhood Comics, from Mine to Yours
For Elderly Readers, to explain to your Grandchildren
Speak to us of Carpeting
The Practice of Compassion
originally published on Wednesay 9th September 2014 The hotel where we stayed in Dublin stands on a crossroads. Facing it are: The Patriots Inn The Richmond Tower, gateway to the Irish Museum of Modern Art (IMMA) the Kilmainham Gaol. We arrived on foot from our house in England, aided by 2 buses and a plane… Continue reading The Practice of Compassion
Visit to Dalkey in 2014
"The James Joyce Tower and Museum is a Martello tower in Sandycove, Dublin, where James Joyce spent six nights in 1904.[1] The opening scenes of his 1922 novel Ulysses take place here, and the tower is a place of pilgrimage for Joyce enthusiasts, especially on Bloomsday. Admission is free. The novel starts like this:… Continue reading Visit to Dalkey in 2014
Running a Half Marathon?
I just sent my son this book for his 58th birthday. from the Oldie Magazine "The propensity for humans to intentionally put themselves through pain never ceases to amaze. Whilst the pursuit of euphoria through physical exertion is a noble one, the fact the attitude persists in a society which encourages, nay endorses, convenience and… Continue reading Running a Half Marathon?
The Mysterious Stranger in Gerrards Cross
Here's a post from Bedroom 42 I thought worth a revisit: The Secret Life of Strangers
Working for Volt Delta Europe Ltd
As an American company, VoltDelta didn't just have Dress Down On Friday, it had Donut Day, not just on June 4th but every Friday. One fresh doughnut, English style, per employee. As a newbie I was told where to queue up. Invariably there were some not in the office that day, or didn't want them,… Continue reading Working for Volt Delta Europe Ltd
High Voltage
I was working under contract to an American company Volt Delta between June and August 1997. I wouldn't have remembered these dates had it not been for an extraordinary phenomenon just yards from our door in High Street, Egham, Surrey. There was a round wooden bench, big enough to seat 6 people without them encroaching… Continue reading High Voltage
Manuela—Not looking for Love Anymore
This is the final photo in my series. As I've said this project is about looking for connection, not romance. Women are taught to talk with each other about romance the same way men are taught not to talk about their feelings. There are whole industries hinging on women's obsession with romance. The amount of… Continue reading Manuela—Not looking for Love Anymore