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Diary jottings

Gradually over the years keeping a diary has become a ritual in my life. As well as writing a few notes on the day’s happenings, encounters, experiences and the world’s unending oddities, I preserve for further thought and sharing especially poems but also passages from books and articles that deluge through my life.

When I look back it is astonishing how much accumulates to encourage thought and provide a hundred conversations with friends. I think with a pang how many lifetimes it would take really to get to the bottom of things – and even then it wouldn’t happen.

One thing is sure. Life is endlessly fascinating and this world spinning through eternity limitless in its glories. I dip here and there and pull out some reading notes for inspection.

 

Cremation

It nearly cancels my fear of death, my dearest said,

When I think of cremation. To rot in the earth

Is a loathsome end, but to roar up in flame – besides, I

       am used to it,

I have flamed with love or fury so often in my life,

No wonder my body is tired, no wonder it is dying.

We had great joy of my body. Scatter the ashes.

 

 

Six centuries later Virginia Woolf understood his passion and described a similar love of books: “I have sometimes dreamt,” she wrote, “that when the Day of Judgement dawns and the great conquerors and lawyers and statesmen come to receive their rewards – their crowns, their laurels, their names carved indelibly upon imperishable marble – the Almighty will turn to Peter and will say, not without a certain envy when He sees us coming with our books under our arms, ‘Look, these need no reward. We have nothing to give them. They have loved reading.’”

 

 

On The Birth of His Son

Families when a child is born

Want it to be intelligent.

I through intelligence

Having wrecked my whole life

Only hope the baby will prove ignorant and stupid

Then he will crown a tranquil life

By becoming a Cabinet Minister.

 

It condenses into a few lines an ambition which does not fly too high but high enough to catch the last rays of the setting sun of life.

 

Convalescing

           I spend the days deciding

           on a commemorative poem.

                   Not, luckily, an epitaph.

A quieter poem

to establish the fact of me.

As one of the incidental faces

in those stone processions.

Carefully done.

Not claiming that I was

at any of the great victories.

But that I volunteered.

 

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