James Bond ??

Could this be a trailer for the new James Bond film ?

Created bt Matt, Henry, Dan and Carla

Wish for a Pony

Mrs. Adams from the PSC says.

 "As a Child mt favorite book was called Wish for a Pony but I can't remember the author for sure, though it may have been Monica Edwaards. The book had been given to my sister as a present, but at eight years old and as I was horse mad, it was soon swapped for my Bunty Annual.

I read this book more times than I can count and took it everywhere I went.

I think it eventually fell apart.

The story was about local two girls who helped out at a stables in Hastings because they were also horse mad. They groomed the horses every day and during their summer holidays were allowed to exercise them on the beach.

One of the girls, Tamsin, was given the chance to ride the horse she loved most at gymkhanas and was very successful. This horse was called Timpani because his hooves "drummed" across the sands.

At the end of the book the owner died and left Timpani to Tamsin in his will as long as her parents agreed, which of course they did.

This was my childhood dream and could almost have been written about Pam instead of Tamsin. She had all the aspirations and wishes that I had as a child to own my own horse, a dream that started with watching the two white Shirehorses pull the coal cart up and down the road where I lived.

I even tried to convince my parents that the coal house would have made a suitable stable because it had a split door! I had no concern as to where the coal would be kept instead. And the fact that we lived in an end terrace house just didn't figure in my thinking at all.

 

Eventually, my horse loving dreams were realised when Peter Dicken opened North Farm on Whitcliffe and I was old enough to "earn" some money within the family business to pay for lessons.

I still love horses even though my riding days are far behind me."

Sonnet to Duty

Light of dim mornings; shield from heat and cold;
Balm for all ailments; substitute for praise;
Comrade of those who plod in lonely ways
(Ways that grow lonelier as the years wax old);

Tonic for fears; check to the over-bold;
Nurse, whose calm hand its strong restriction lays,
Kind but resistless, on our wayward days;
Mart, where high wisdom at vast price is sold;

Gardener, whose touch bids the rose-petals fall,
The thorns endure; surgeon, who human hearts
Searchest with probes, though the death-touch be given;

Spell that knits friends, but yearning lovers parts;
Tyrant relentless o'er our blisses all;--
Oh, can it be, thine other name is Heaven?

Thomas Wentworth Higginson

A Psalm to Life

The American Poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was a man who understood many things including strife, struggles and morality. 

Tell me not in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each tomorrow

Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act, - act in the living Present!

Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sand of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solenm main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us then be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow