where art collides philosoperontap

January 23, 2011

Parentmail 11th January 2011 – precautions against ‘swine flu’

Filed under: chinks — Tags: , — Trefor Davies @ 3:45 pm

Our ref: PS/PMM
11 January 2010
Dear Parent/Guardian

We are writing to you in response to recent information about ‘Swine Flu’.

As you are no doubt aware there are predictions of an increase in ‘Swine Flu’ incidents.

The school has a full policy in place for any outbreak of ‘Swine Flu’ within the school and has implemented this.

If you believe that your son or daughter has ‘Swine Flu’ you should follow the national advice provided by the NHS http://www.nhs.uk/conditions/paandemic-flu/pages/symptoms.aspx .

On this website the NHS list the symptoms as fever or high temperature (over 38?C/100.4?) and two or
more of the following symptoms:

Unusual tiredness, headache, runny nose sore throat, shortness of breath or cough, loss of
appetite, aching muscles, diarrhoea or vomiting.

Please do not send your child to school if they have or you suspect they have ‘Swine Flu’.

As a community there are some simple precautions that we can all take to minimize the effect of
any out-break, these include:

  • please send your son or daughter to school with some anti-viral hand wash and some disposable tissues
  • washing hands frequently with soap and warm water, or using an anti-viral hand rub to reduce the spread of the virus from the hands to the face or to other people, particularly after blowing the nose or disposing of tissues.
    covering the nose and mouth with a tissue when coughing or sneezing
  • disposing of dirty tissue promptly and carefully, bagging and binning them
  • minimising contact between hands and mouth/nose
  • regularly cleaning frequently touched hard surfaces (eg kitchen worktops, door handles) using normal cleaning products.

Yours sincerely,

The Headmaster

We got this letter via email recently – it’s a work of art in itself and of its time.

back garden winter colours

Filed under: fusion,the art gallery,winter series — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 9:39 am

January 22, 2011

The conservatory – clean – seldom done

Filed under: poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 3:12 pm

A dull day in Jan
And the roof needs a clean
As an event it is a seldom one
A seldom event is seldom done
In fact it is seven yearly seldom
Though outside it is not too cold
And Hannah is making the lunch
Whilst I sit in the conservatory
And watch the sky unfold
Above my very eyes
Drip averting
As the fierceness of the hose
Marks its glass

Then came the stench
Disgust creating sense reeling remainder,
Reminder of the seven gutteral years
Of rotting composition
Seven pickled years of careless neglect

And finally came the light
Uplifting to drown the smell of time.

January 9, 2011

random favourite tweets part 2

Filed under: chinks — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 10:02 pm

More chinks in the curtain of the twittersphere:

Q “can i ask how you will be voting?” A “Yes, I’ll put on my shoes go to the local school and put an x in the box”

Are the Seattle Seahawks British? They’ve got that plucky underdog thing going nicely.

If anyone wants to lose weight really fast, send me money, whatever you’ve got, and I’ll send you some of my patented Snakeskin Oil.

Went out today to buy a milk jug and came back with a rather nice frying pan 😉 Kind of sums me up in the kitchen!

Glasgow. Munster. Glasgow. Munster. Glasgow. Munster. Glasgow. Munster.Glasgow. Munster.

Don’t feed the trolls.

at local kebab shop newly cleaned motor looks awesome! “chilli sauce?!” “you betcha!!!”

(more…)

January 7, 2011

A filthy night

Filed under: winter series — Trefor Davies @ 7:04 pm

A filthy night,
Of penetrating damp,
Ruins the chest,
Kills weak souls,
Bring back ice,
Cleansing frost,
Pristine killer,
Silent execution.

January 3, 2011

January

Filed under: prose — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 10:09 am

It’s January, 2011. The land is barren, mostly frozen, and there is no sun. The thermometer has barely risen above zero all winter and we still have a couple of miserable months to go. January, together with its soul mate February, is the least interesting month of the year.

There are only two sensible things to do. One is to hibernate and the other is to leave for warmer climes. I have absolutely no sense of loyalty to the British post Christmas winter. If it was a pretty, white, frozen landscape that might be different but it ain’t.

This afternoon the fire is lit which helps. Fire has an offsetting effect on January and February. Central heating doesn’t do it. You need flames and direct heat. You need crackle and flicker and colour. It’s all part of hibernation really – the falling asleep on the settee in front of the fire.

January is an austere month. A time of admonishment. It used to be of necessity, to conserve supplies until fresh growth. Nowadays the necessity comes from overindulgence during the mid winter holiday. The bleak mid winter holiday.

The austerity accompanies those who cannot flee. They are trapped. The notion of going somewhere warm for the remainder of the winter seems to clash with the idea that belts need tightening and livers restoring. So most of us tighten and restore and bend our heads to the wind glancing up only occasionally to keep our bearings.

Thank goodness for the fire.

January 1, 2011

I sipped at my beer

Filed under: poems — Trefor Davies @ 6:51 pm

I sipped at my beer and listened to Santana in the corner of the room. Its part of the quality of life, the escapist answer. My mind floated, careless. Who needs yoga? Sometimes I shut my eyes and just listened. It’s not often I afford myself the luxury. Bongos beat, guitar slid. In the darkness I was in Southern California. Palm trees lost in a narcotic haze, convertibles at the beach, crash of Pacific rollers twenty four hours a day, driftwood bonfire, beer and Jack, blondes and bandanas. I ran my hands through my hair, unfashionably short. My head tilted back and I slept, waking now and then when the music changed its occasional mood. A boy fetched me another. Endless vacation. Endless love. Smell of the night. Laughter beyond the orange grove. Chink of glass. Barefoot children run freely.

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