I watched and listened to farmers in the UK showing the affect of theBlack of rain on their produce. They are telling us the yields c outdated be down as much as 50% this year. I can sympathise with them. My bean crop has failed this year and the potatoes are down by a large proportion. It is not my livelihood I have to contend with but the feeling of having provided some fresh fruit and vegetables. It is all blamed on climate change. What none of the commentators points out is the drastic affect of the increase in population. The leaders must find a way to get the message across that the population of 5he world must be stabilised and then reduced.
I see everybody is complaining about delays in getting an ambulance and in a & e. They blame it on covid. Well four and a half years ago when I had my heart attack we waited over three hours for an ambulance, spent two hours outside a&e and three hours before I saw a doctor. What I am saying is it is not a new problem. What I can say is all the staff looked after me wonderfully.
I see British tennis players Dan Evens and Jack Draper have reached the last eight of the Canada Open tennis. It is a shame their matches have been put on in the vending in Canada which means after midnight in the UK. Most tennis followers will miss these matches. The organisers could have thought of putting them on earlier so British tennis fans could watch them.
Hearing people describe their favourite beaches on the radio made me think of a poem I composed some time ago.
The Call
By
Eddie Gubbins
The sea is calling, always calling
Even when the sailor has long left voyaging behind.
The sea calls, ever calls,
Over the noise of this sometimes dreadful life.
To sail away , to leave this life behind,
But to where?
That is what adds to the thrill.
Let the voyage be long or short,
Let the oceans be calm or fierce,
In the urge to sail away,
Lies man's eternal quest
For something new.
Why oh why does man always strive after the new
When accepting the present would save a lot of heart ache.
It has long been a mystery to me but,
More than in any other profession,
The sea offers a greater chance to satisfy this need.
The sailor never arrives
Because each new port is a stepping stone to the next
And on to the next
Until the nomadic lifestyle grows too much.
It maybe that the sailor observes other people
Settling into a pattern of life which brings rewards
Such things as family and home,
Anchored to other views of living
Rather than constantly on the move.
So the sailor leaves the sea
And puts down roots.
Or does he?
The sound of a seagull screaming ,
The wind moaning around the roof of his house
The sound of waves lapping on the shore
Will awaken in the hidden recesses of his mind
The longing to feel the excitement once more
As the ship goes silent,
Ready to leave for the sea.
Goodnight
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