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December 29, 2008 06:47PM
MS is a horrible thing to befall you and those involved in your life.
Sometimes, when looking at how an individual is reduced and curtailed you can't but think of what would be for the best. 
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November 13, 2008 07:29AM
Was baby-sitting my niece (the wee diva-TWD) yesterday evening,
While doing her spelling home work she looked at me mischievously and said 'i was doing drugs in school today, honest' after getting the suitable reaction from me she showed me her drugs chart.
Its two pie charts on a large piece of paper one chart should the damage to the individual and other to the community ... Now i'm waaaaayyyyy out of touch with modern education so it came as a bit of a shock, she's 10/11 and know's that Heroin is the worst one, it takes up most of her pie chart for a start.
The class seems to be really well thought out, its just a shame its needed that's all.
I'm going to try and keep in touch with the stuff they get taught today... but its a whole new world. I was in WH Smith, they stock all the school education books, all that knowledge none of which i know made me feel really out of touch and quite stupid compared to todays young, which made me gulp quite deeply.
If i ever get the time and my memory back, I'm going to have to re-educate myself one day lol
R
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November 09, 2008 11:23AM
STRANGE MEETING (1918)
It seemed that out of battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which titanic wars had groined.
Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then ,as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall, -
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
With a thousand pains that vision's face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
'Strange friend,' I said, 'here is no cause to mourn.'
'None,' said that other, 'save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled,
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery,
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.
I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now...'
Wilfred Owen{1893-1918}
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