Ring the bells

'Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
It's how the light gets in..'
Leonard Cohen

Fiddler

Fiddler of Dooney by W. B. Yeats WHEN I play on my fiddle in Dooney,
Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
My brother in Moharabuiee.
I passed my brother and cousin:	5
They read in their books of prayer;
I read in my book of songs
I bought at the Sligo fair.
When we come at the end of time,
To Peter sitting in state,	10
He will smile on the three old spirits,
But call me first through the gate;
For the good are always the merry,
Save by an evil chance,
And the merry love the fiddle	15
And the merry love to dance:
And when the folk there spy me,
They will all come up to me,
With ‘Here is the fiddler of Dooney!’
And dance like a wave of the sea.

Rest in peace, Ken and Roma Smith

Long time since I posted.
Today is the day of Roma's funeral - clear blue sky, sunshine, birdsong.
Roma was our next door neighbour. She was 89, had had a good life, it seems. I only got to know her fairly recently since she was in hospital and was startled by her dry wit, sense of humour and concern for others, intact, despite months of increasing pain in her legs.
Ken, Roma's husband, died a few weeks before she did. Here's Ken in the garden last year:

Ken Smith, Harold Rd, Hastings