nineveh_uk

The not-swine-flu continues. Work tomorrow looks unlikely, which is annoying because I’ve got a lot on next week and so needed to do a good bit this. At least it is only a cold, and from the shoulders down I feel absolutely fine, so that as soon as it leaves my head I should be up and about. If it leaves me by Saturday morning, I am almost tempted to wrap up warm and get a cheap seat at Lord’s.

In the meantime, despite not having watched ER for ages, I see that it is the Last Ever Episode tonight, so I shall attempt to stay up for it.

Finally, to give this post some substance and despite it not being April, a poem by James Elroy Flecker, swooning Edwardian extraordinaire, and did the authors but know it, inspiring spirit of every HMS Wolfstar fic ever written.

WE THAT WERE FRIENDS

We that were friends to-night have found
A fear, a secret, and a shame:
I am on fire with that soft sound
You make, in uttering my name.

Forgive a young and boastful man
Whom dreams delight and passions please,
And love me as great women can
Who have no children at their knees.