Wednesday, 29 May 2013

Get A Bloomin Move On Lyrics - Italian Job

This is the self-preservation society
This is the self-preservation society

Go wash your German bands, your boat race too
Comb your Barnet Fair we got a lot to do
Put on your Dickie Dirt and your Peckham Rye
Cause time's soon hurrying by

Get your skates on mate, get your skates on mate
No bib around your Gregory Peck today, eh?
Drop your plates of meat right up on the seat

This is the self-preservation society
This is the self-preservation society

Gotta get a bloomin move on
Babadab-babadabadab-bab-ba
Gotta get a bloomin move on
Babadab-babadabadab-bab-ba
Jump in the jam jar gotta get straight
Hurry up mate – don't wanna be late
How's your father?
Tickety boo
Tickety boo
Gotta get a bloomin move on

Self-preservation society
This is the self-preservation society
Put on your almond rocks and daisy roots
Wash your Hampstead Heath and wear your whistle and flute
Lots of lah-di-dahs and cockneys here
Look alive and get out of here

So get your skates on mate, get your skates on mate
No bib around your Gregory Peck today, eh?
Drop your plates of meat right up on the seat

This is the self-preservation society
This is the self-preservation society


Artist: Quincey Jones Lyrics
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FQl91b7P8HI



Thursday, 23 May 2013

Share your personal photographs - Guardian

The Guardian have asked writers and artists to tell us about what photography means to them, now we’d like you to show us what it means to you. Share with us your most precious photograph with a line to tell what or who we are looking at and why the image is so special to you. .......

https://witness.guardian.co.uk/assignment/5199de11e4b0bee8c6c22194?INTCMP=mic_1744

Monday, 20 May 2013

Bozo's Cockneyfied way of talking - Orwell

Down and Out in Paris and London, George Orwell




This description reminds me of Russell Brand's manner of speaking.


Bozo had a strange way of talking, Cockneyfied and yet very lucid and expressive.  It was as though he had read good books but had never troubled to correct his grammar.


Sunday, 12 May 2013

Woman on a Train

This woman fascinated me on the train to London last Thursday, she was full of energy and gumption.  She was stiff without being wooden, as if she had a purpose, knew what she was doing, where she was going and seemed content about it.  A Doer!

I like confident people who have an energy and drive about them.  They get things done. They motivate the idle amongst us who just sit and wait for others to tell them what to do.


Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose

How true this statement is.  It always was better, when we were young.

Thursday, 9 May 2013

Drummer Hodge

Drummer Hodge
They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest
Uncoffined - just as found:
His landmark is a kopje-crest
That breaks the veldt around:
And foreign constellations west
Each night above his mound.

Young Hodge the drummer never knew --
Fresh from his Wessex home --
The meaning of the broad Karoo,
The Bush, the dusty loam,
And why uprose to nightly view
Strange stars amid the gloam.

Yet portion of that unknown plain
Will Hodge for ever be;
His homely Northern breast and brain
Grow to some Southern tree,
And strange-eyed constellations reign
His stars eternally. 

Thomas Hardy

Poetry from the Boer Wars in South Africa
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boer_Wars

Up until 1883 dead soldiers were often the 'Unknown Soldier'.

Hardy's poem is often compared to Rupert Brooke's 'The Soldier' and it must provide some form influence on Brooke but which is better?  Which gives us more of an understanding of what it was like to be a common soldier in the British army during the early 20th Century fighting Empirical wars on unfamiliar soils?



The Soldier
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Rupert Brooke


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boer_Wars