I have bought the Bellfields ss a chocolate Santa each, because I have enjoyed teaching them and I think their classes have gone quite well.
So while I am thinking about Monday and Tuesday and trying to achieve, I would like to get on with my work, but my old mum will be hoping that I'll take her out today because it is a lovely day, and I must also do that, slowly and nicely and not trying to rush her along.
Also tomorrow there is a dinner which I said I would cook for: have to buy the ingredients for apple tarts for 16 people.
Also I am not actually finished until 18th December!! But the last week of term should be fairly easy. Here is the poem of the day, which is rather glorious. I do love John Donne.
Death DEATH, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so: For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me. From Rest and Sleep, which but thy picture be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow; And soonest our best men with thee do go-- Rest of their bones and souls' delivery! Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell; And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die! John Donne More poems from John Donne |
