Daffs

Today I met a lady with a bunch of daffodils. Apparently, she was Welsh and we had a nice chat about St David, patron saint of her homeland, and the leek which is replaced with a daff in the lapel on the 1st of March. Much easier to walk about with a flower in the lapel than with a sleek leek.

Dining at a local Afgan eatery I listened to a life story of a 25-year old waiter. Fascinating!
 

A few more pics of the day:

Oman featured

I came across these paintings in a coffee table book about Oman. Then, I thought I'd add a picture from a Muscat tourist magazine which I kept to remind me of the trip to this Arab country:

Garden and sky

I'm going to miss this garden, and especially the view from my window, watching the clouds travel by, the cats,the birds, the squirrels, the foliage, and the foxes and the changing colours...
When I looked out today, I saw a blackbird sitting on the holly tree. Very few berries have remained on the tree. Birds enjoy eating them. The other morning I was thrilled to see two beautiful foxes sitting at the end of the wall by the tall hedge wall. Or I would watch a squirrel looking for a place to hide her trophy. Have I mentioned the cloud formations and their changing hues?

   

If I had the time this evening, I'd dash to an exhibition preview at The Bankside Gallery this evening to see what professional artists, some of whom I had a pleasure to meet, are showing, and to rub shoulders with the arty lot!;-) 

Security. Encounters.

 

A friend was to bring me an over-the-counter nutritional supplement for my knee joints I need from Poland. It was confiscated from her cabin luggage at the airport.
...
And now a few words about my day:
I met a lady with four dogs, two pairs of canine brothers:
 
That one was the friendliest and didn't wait long at all to ask for special attention:


There were many nice people I met as well, including quite a few from Australia, a couple from Wales and an English guitarist who is soon going on tour to India!
The last customer was a girl from Australia who had my exquisite attention at the Octavia downstairs boutique in posh Knightsbridge. We both admired the most extraordinary ring and a few other items.
The ring looked as if it consisted of a few small glass containers to carry what? poison, love potion or something else seen in a film... 




 

Then I persuaded Emily to try on this unusual hand-knitted piece. We figured out that this is how you wear it, but can we be sure?
Thanks for posing for me, Emily!:-)

This pair of gloves didn't wait for an owner at all on the bitter-cold January Wednesday:
It was brand new and made of several old wollen sweaters. That's what you call recycling!

There were also boots that I would call 'killer boots'. Wouldn't you?


Dear Keen Learner of English, do you know what this pot is called in English?

Enough of Brompton Rd Octavia 'treasures'.
................
 Now... Have you heard of... 'companion planting'?
For my friends with green fingers, I cannot resist adding this quote from dear Wiki:

Companion planting

Borage is used in companion planting.^[17] It is said to protect or nurse legumes, spinach, brassicas, and even strawberries.^[18] It is also said to be a good companion plant to tomatoes because it confuses the search image of the mother moths of tomato hornworms or manduca looking for a place to lay their eggs.^[19] Claims that it improves tomato growth^[20] and makes them taste better remain unsubstantiated.

Instantly twitterpated;-)

At the garden centre in Sheen, next to Octavia shop  I saw this piglet smile.

Went there with a friend who said he detested all these garden gnomes and other figurines. He told me that the only thing like that he would consider for his garden would be a Buddha. Fair enough! And then he saw a kind of an old thoughtful gnome and went out of the centre with it, leaving nearly 15 quid in exchange!

I left with a few more pictures, one showing his purchase among other figurines. Will you guess which one is now in my friend's garden?

Burns Supper, bird singing and poetry

 

This is probably not the best way to illustrate Burns Night or Burns Supper which is celebrated every year on or around 25 January. I've just read an article about Robert Burns in The Guardian and thought I'd share his poem quoted there:

As I Walk’d By Mysel
by Robert Burns
As I walk’d by myself, and talk’d by myself,
Myself said unto me:
Look to thyself,take care of thyself, For nobody cares for thee
I answer’d myself, and said to myself,
In the self same repartee:
Look to thyself, or not look to thyself,
The self same thing will be!



That might be a bit better as thistle is the national symbol of Scotland. Why thistle ? As the story goes, it saved the Scotts. How? When they were all under siege in one of their castles up on the hill, the English wanted to surprise them and took off their shoes to get nearer quietly. It didn't work as the area was full of thistles!

 

 ...
 
...
I was going back from work totally exhausted and then entering my street I heard a bird singing up in the tree. I stopped and looked. And there it was, up on a tree branch, singing in the dark. I kept standing there, listening and watching the birds chest and throat move and felt the stress and tiredness leave me, pushed away by the sweet melody.  After a while it flew away and the branch was still trembling, just like in Julian Tuwim's poem titled 'Bird'.


Looking for a translationof 'Bird', I encountered a sad poem by Jan Brzechwa, another Polish poet. Here it is, in Polish and English:


The Road
by Jan Brzechwa

I walk the road unloved,
I walk alone—my shoes, my mud.

Full of bitter grief and sorrow,
Without a goal or guide to follow,

My heart: unease that burns and scars,
My home is close, yet home so far.

I see myself, so sad and poor,
Aimlessly down the road some more,

Of no use to anyone, I roam,
Come and go, but never home,

How much of life is left for me to touch?
Who knows. Too little or too much?

Snow to the left and snow to the right,
To the right a tree, to the left a distant light,

So I just walk along the road—walk, not run,
Abandoned and unloved by everyone,

No goodbyes ever spoken, no smiles await,
Darkness hangs over the nearby gate,

And I, waiting for this evening to fall,
Walk—a poet! How funny it’s all…


Droga
Jan Brzechwa

Niemiłowany idę drogą,
Idę sam jeden - bez nikogo,

Pełen żałości i goryczy
Idę bez celu sam i niczyj.

Złe niepokoje serce pieką,
Dom niedaleko, lecz daleko,

A ja tak smutnie i ubogo
Idę bez celu, idę drogą,

I niepotrzebny już nikomu
Idę i wracam - nie do domu.

Ileż mi życia pozostało?
Nie wiem. Za dużo czy za mało?

Śnieg jest na prawo i na lewo,
Na lewo słup, na prawo drzewo,

A ja tak idę sobie drogą
Niemiłowany przez nikogo.

Nikt mnie nie żegnał, nikt nie czeka,
I wisi ciemność niedaleka,

A ja, czekając aż się zmierzchnie,
Idę - poeta! Jak to śmiesznie...
...

Ealing's Polish heritage celebrated

Just quickly to mention this pretty poster at The Balkan Shop in Acton Vale. I was allowed to photograph it on condition I listened to its story first. They didn't know that was exactly what I was after. The poster advertises the best kind of Balkan salami which has been made by the same family for around 300 years. The girl in the picture is the business founder's daughter who is pointing at the pictures of her on every sausage and telling her mom about it.


And how about this collection of books?