Snow

We got a flurry earlier this afternoon, right in the middle of evening stables. Luckily i'd taken a pearler of a fall this morning and got told to stay at home, so i was sat in the warmeth watching everyone outside scurrying around! :lol:
 
I left my heart, in San Francisco

owl.jpg
 
Originally posted by Shadow Leader+Feb 21 2005, 10:35 PM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td>QUOTE (Shadow Leader @ Feb 21 2005, 10:35 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteBegin-Love Everlasting@Feb 21 2005, 11:26 PM
Luckily i'd taken a pearler of a fall this morning
Click to expand...
Luckily????!!!!!! :confused: :confused: :confused: :lol:[/b][/quote]
If it means an afternoon off on the coldest day of the year i think i'll try it again tomorrow :lol:
 
Lol, Ali...fair play to you!!!!

Mind you, if the severe weather warnings for the South East are correct, I may have problems getting my flight back home form Gatwick to get into work for Thurs lunchtime :D !!!!
 
A beautiful scene indeed at Lingfield, Ven. The course just lightly covered, the trees along the back straight daintily dusted with snow, and then just the field outlined darkly round the last turn, the only dots of colour the jockeys' silks flashing in the glow of the winter sun... (Stop it. You've been doing a contract for Hallmark Cards again, haven't you? Ed.)
 
When I arrived at Gatwick from my hoilday earlier tonight, the snow just began to fall, so I was quite lucky really not to get hold up with delays.
 
Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
 
The Beeb forecast tonight had three snowflake symbols over the borders for overnight and two for tomorrow.

Let's hope they're right B)
 
Brian - what's it like now over your way? Mum's starting to panic now about the state of the roads - she's taking me to Gatwick tomorrow. Also does anyone know how flights have been affected today? The BA website just says that there have been flight disruptions today because of the snow but at the moment they haven't got any disruptions reported for my flight. Cheers.
 
Lol...cheers Brian. I just thought I'd ask as the BA website said there were flight problems from the London airports due to the snow.
 
THE LASS OF AUGHRIM ....In Joyce's masterpiece short story ‘The Dead’ (Dubliners) Gretta Conroy hears The Lass of Aughrim being sung at a Christmas party and is overwhelmed by grief upon memories of her dead young lover. Her husband is intrigued by her reverie until he discovers that Gretta is not thinking of him but of the youthful passion of her long-ago love.

Joyce’s love/wife Nora Barnacle was the inspiration for Gretta. Nora was a west country girl from Galway; her 17 year old boyfriend sang outside her window in the rain one night and died of consumption a few weeks later. This young man’s shadow disturbed Joyce, a notoriously jealous man who liked to fancy himself betrayed, for all his life. The song mixes minor and major keys in a peculiarly Irish way. It is countryside and the folk. In “The Dead” it seems that Gretta longs as well for the western sea and stormy Galway while her husband Gabriel is made of the city.

In the passage above on 'The Snow', Gretta has fallen alsleep in a hotel room after the New Years party at Gabriel's Aunts (He has foreseen their death - hence the title of the story, but which is also allegorical of their love). Her husband looks out on a snowstorm which has just begun, and reflects on his circumstance, and a realisation he has never been truly loved.

Now read the paragraph again. The most beautiful piece of English ever written. The graveyard mentioned is in Oughterard, Co. Galway - if you are heading to Connemara from Galway City - stop awhile, its peaceful.

Joyce met Nora on June 16th 1904 - the day he commemerated in Ulysses, and is now celebrated in Ireland as 'Bloomsday' after the protaganist of the novel.


“The Lass of Aughrim”

If you be the lass of Aughrim
As I am taking you mean to be
Tell me the first token
That passed between you and me.
The rain falls on my yellow locks
And the dew it wets my skin;
My babe lies cold within my arms:
Lord Gregory let me in.
Oh Gregory, don’t you remember
One night on the hill,
When we swapped rings off each other’s hands,
Sorely against my will?
Mine was of the beaten gold,
Yours was but black tin;
Refrain
Oh if you be the lass of Aughrim,
As I suppose you not to be
Come tell me the last token
That passed between you and me.
Refrain
Oh Gregory don’t you remember
One night on the hill
When we swapped smocks off each other’s backs,
Sorely against my will?
Mine was of the Holland fine,
Yours was but scotch cloth.
 
Back
Top