Coventry progressive folk band  inspired by the likes of Pentangle and Incredible String Band. Polly Bolton, Kev Dempsey and Martin Jenkins have collaborated with finest in UK folk for over 40 years. The band split in the mid 1970s due a lack of commercial success and some members wanting a more rock [Fairport] leaning sound.
The stranger slaked his thirst at the well, the feral
children pulling at his clothes. He pulled faces at
them and roared and the children ran screeching and
joyful in mock terror.
The man was decently robed. Good quality linen with a
dash of colour. His wife and children probably had
full bellies and lived in a house that kept then cool
from the Judean sun and protected them from the chill
of a night time desert wind.
Stranger and girl stared together.
"Master I have heard you talk many times and heard
wondrous things about you. I do not come to you so you
can cure my sick child or trick you into blasphemy as
many would. My life should be good, but something is
The girl looked up at the stranger and saw his adam
apple bob and the face desert-stained and raw.
"What do you want me to do about it? You are clearly
better off than many. Why can't you be satisfied with
that? Isn't it better to face the emptiness that is at
the heart of all our lives with a full stomach rather
The man was clearly expecting some divine anointment
that would fill this pit in his life.
"God has clearly given you talents and a better life
than many. Be satisfied with that. To do other is to
be ungrateful to God"
The stranger pointed into the darkest recesses of the
square where lost women plyed their trade in the
"Go make yourself seen"
The man with bemusement and shame walked into the
square and did as asked. He called. He waited. He
shrugged and looked back to the stranger as if to say
'she is not interested'. He called again before
walking back to the well kicking the sand with his
"You didn't wait very long?"
"How long should I have waited? An hour? A day?"
"There are those with little coin in their purses who
have every reason to want what you have got, who may
have waited longer. It is only when you have nothing
that God makes it easier for you. It is that moment
when Abraham is about to slay Isaac that God anoints
and frees you of your obligation. If he asked you to
wait an eternity for a lost woman would you do so?
Many are called and few are chosen"
When the man had walked away bemused and disappointed,
the stranger walked into the shadows and a woman wept. _________________ The day war broke out, my Missus said to me she looked at me and she said, "you'll have to go back to work!" Ooh she's got a cruel tongue!
"No no no not me master!!!"
Sleep sweet Judas, rest
The night was chilled
"You didn't have to come" he said to her.
She held him close and he pleaded
"Is it me Mary?..Is it me? Is it true?"
And each "Is it me?" was just another cry from the wilderness. _________________ The day war broke out, my Missus said to me she looked at me and she said, "you'll have to go back to work!" Ooh she's got a cruel tongue!
Last edited by ELEVENSES81 on Mon Nov 10, 2014 4:33 pm; edited 1 time in total
Crace re-imagines Christ's 40 days in the wilderness from a humanist standpoint. Crace's Jesus seems to have no divine origin and no obvious supernatural administrations. An unlearned boy from Galilee, whose too-pious habits are deplored by His parents, He has deserted the paternal carpenter's shop and run away to the Judean wilderness in search of God. He arrives with other quarantiners, each with his or her own purpose: it might be to live 40 days in a cave, with what food and water they bring or can find, to purge guilt or be cured of cancer or barrenness. Jesus chooses the least accessible cave and means to go without food or water for the whole period.
Highly recommended _________________ The day war broke out, my Missus said to me she looked at me and she said, "you'll have to go back to work!" Ooh she's got a cruel tongue!
Poached eggs should be such an easy job, but I just can't do them. I've tried using those little water bath things that sit on the hob, but I always overcook them, and tried to emulate the Hairy Biker's swirling water method. My old mum always cooked her eggs this way and were
perfection. Mine turn out like the contents of a handkerchief during a bad cold...ugh..!!!!!
Any help would be most welcome. _________________ The day war broke out, my Missus said to me she looked at me and she said, "you'll have to go back to work!" Ooh she's got a cruel tongue!
For all the many creatures that inhabit the oceans, there are nights when the moon being right, they come together at the reefs or in the privacy of the deep to fornicate and repopulate the seas. Even the humble polyps, the living coral in the warmer seas shed their eggs and sperm to find haphazard union on a drifting wave. The turtles, so shy of man and his shore, still shed their fear for one night and pull themselves up by instinct to love, bury their eggs and dash (as if a turtle could ever be said to 'dash', as haste is not part of that creature's nature).
So mermaids too, when of an age to feel the urge to need a human, his lips on hers and her rounded breasts cupped by his love, will for one night forget the dolphins' usual warning and head for the strands and secret coves along the southern coasts of England. Even the whales, will on this night guide them in. The fishermen will be waiting , as they always have and will do, to plant their seed and desire and watch sadly as the schools of mermaids, hair streaming , head back to some silent wreck or reef, to home.
The dolphins do not begrudge them this night. They have taught the mermaids all they know. A mermaids tender touch learnt far out at sea. She knows the delight of a dolphin, his leathery smoothness, so that when she raises her tail his ardour is raised and he leaps and twirls at the joy of it. Only he knows, of all sea creatures, the joy of her lips.
And so at dusk as the porpoise followed the crabbers and shrimpers home, the mermaids schooled and followed the whales shoreward where the beacon flashed to warn all sea creatures of the deadly shallows. How many of her friends, the whales, have been caught by the ebb and left beached and humiliated by their friend, the sea. Some kindly human may push them back or water their backs, but most die far from home.
Mermaid love is not a passing passion, a casual encounter. Each mermaid has a call and only one man can answer it. Sometimes the call will be unanswered because the man is still child. The child may hear it and delight in it, but cannot know it is for him. So for year after year, she comes in hope and returns in misery, her purses unfilled. But one day, when the boy is youth or man, he will hear her call on some cloudless, moonlit night and feel his heart pulse and leap.
Such a night is this. She all instinct and sea, and him all earth and desire but untutored.
The men wait in lines waiting for their call again, and upon hearing, strip naked in the wave and stand in the shallows. Then they see them. The schools of beauty all beating heart and tail. Some blonde, some dark, some small-breasted as girls, others more full, mature. Some have painted their lips with red coral, others octopus ink. She comes. 'Adam, you have come at last'. Her voice is like the sweetest siren harp. 'Come here, don't be shy'. She like him is young, her hair blond and curled that falls like a veil over her, a net to capture him. He may be innocent, but even in him some ancient knowledge of a woman's need bubbles up. Him all beating heart, ears zinging and the hum of love and desire coursing through him. He lies beside her in the foam. She smiles at the knowledge that until this man falls into death, their connection will last, Neptune's gift to both. The next wave carries her onto him, so practiced. As the sky spins above and the earth below, their mutual cries reach back to her home, the reef. The dolphins leap.
'Goodbye sweet Adam'. She, all beauty and power, thrashes the ocean and to home. All along that strand, men young and old are crying from exhaustion and grief. You can never tell when a mermaid will call again.
The next night, the mermaid school returns offshore, and as if as one, lie on their backs and lift their tails to release their precious purses to the racing tide.
_________________ The day war broke out, my Missus said to me she looked at me and she said, "you'll have to go back to work!" Ooh she's got a cruel tongue!
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