Funny. Almost exactly a year ago, there was a Wednesday when I had just had a wisdom tooth out, and was wondering idly if I should drink when I went round to arnhem
s for dinner in the evening. Nothing's changed but nothing seems the same
Remembering a thousand things I meant to say
The past's a sea of boys and girls
Who disappeared without a word
All friends of mine who had their time, then drifted away
|Date:||December 7th, 2005 11:33 am (UTC)|| |
Oh but the stars are out, they're shining down
They whisper through the passing clouds
Don't be scared the wind will come, blow you home
Don't be afraid, 'cos you're not alone
|Date:||December 7th, 2005 11:41 am (UTC)|| |
When are we going to meet up? I could do Friday, although it is Pip's party...
|Date:||December 7th, 2005 11:53 am (UTC)|| |
I've told Charlotte I'll be at GD on Friday, which I think somewhat counts as a promise. My teamwork project is in on Friday, and whilst it seems to be all nicely organised and coming together, I suspect there will nontheless be a mad rush to get it in anyway. This leaves a gap between ~5pm (project deadline) and ~8:30pm on Friday in which I'm definitively free. Which isn't really very long. :-(. You're probably better off going to the party. Carte blanche for the week following, mind, if any of that is available...
|Date:||December 7th, 2005 12:03 pm (UTC)|| |
It's not a big gap, but it's better than no gap. And then I get to see you and go to the party... Do you want to come here, or should I come to you?
Once I've survived this week I'll have a much better idea of what's going on next week.
|Date:||December 7th, 2005 12:07 pm (UTC)|| |
Ah, timetabling week-by-week. I thought you'd transcended that ages ago. Well, I will be available from $time_we_hand_our_project_in onwards; which could be almost anywhen on Friday. This might conceivably make it better for me to come to you, depending on when on Friday *you're* going to be available. Maybe we need to do something cunning using communications devices.
With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.
By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade.
"Is my team ploughing
That I was used to drive,
And hear the harness jingle
When I was man alive?"
Aye, the horses trample,
The harness jingles now;
No change, though you lie under
The land you used to plough.
"Is my girl happy,
That I thought hard to leave,
And has she tired of weeping
As she lies down at eve?"
Ay, she lies down lightly,
She lies not down to weep:
Your girl is well contented.
Be still, my lad, and sleep.
"Is my friend hearty,
Now I am thin and pine,
And has he found to sleep in
A better bed than mine?"
Yes, lad, I lie easy,
I lie as lads would choose;
I cheer a dead man's sweetheart,
Never ask me whose.
|Date:||December 13th, 2005 02:19 pm (UTC)|| |
Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
This is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain.
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.