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That is so funny Doc Daneeka because so well observed. I recently
complained to HSBC, "my" bank, that they hadn't told me. They said they
had, date and time; and when I protested that whoever said that would have
found the phone just ringing, answerphone not on, they denied it on the
grounds that their records supported them

L

On 23 January 2015 at 02:11, Bill Wootton <[log in to unmask]> wrote:

> No cheering for German planes here that I can see, Pat but a fascinating
> poem. Reminds me of 'Poor Doc Daneeka' in Catch 22, whose death is lamented
> because he is on the flying list when McWatt crashes his plane deliberately
> into a cliff after accidentally slicing pontoon-standing Hungry Joe in half
> with a too-low pass in his plane. Doc bounces around, pointing out that he
> is still alive and that the list had been forged to boost his flying hours.
> No matter; to Yossarian et al, he is a dead man.
>
> Can it be true that your continued existence is due to this quirk of fate?
>
> Thanks, Max, too, for reminding me of the Slough poem, a beauty.
>
> Bill
>
>
> > On 23 Jan 2015, at 10:27 am, Patrick McManus <
> [log in to unmask]> wrote:
> >
> > Bill I found it !!not easy in my 400 or so poems
> > Published in 'Jigsaw'
> >
> >
> >
> > FAMILY SECRET
> > MY SECOND AFTERNOON
> > -NOT AT SCHOOL
> >
> > First day
> > I saw school, I did not like it!
> > I screamed and screamed, and screamed
> > my mother was summoned, to take me home
> >
> > second day
> > I saw school, I did not like it!
> > I screamed and screamed, and screamed
> > again my mother, was summoned
> > later in disgrace, big disgrace
> > headmistress's office, big and cold
> > my mother was told, told off!
> > never have we allowed, a child
> > a child to go home, on his second
> > his second day, it's disgraceful!
> > sort him out, bring him back tomorrow!
> > or there will trouble, a lot of trouble!
> >
> > later I sat snug, with biscuits under
> > under the counter, at my mum's job
> > safe in the hairdressers, all cosy
> > I remember nothing, nothing more.
> >
> > over over forty years later
> > my mother so ill, so ill said
> > said, all drugged and confused
> > I want, to tell you something
> > I do not want to upset you, but
> > but do you remember, remember
> > on your second day, at school
> > when you made your second, yes
> > second big scene, and was disgraced
> > and the headmistress, was outraged
> > and, I took you with me to work?
> >
> > soon after, the school was bombed
> > many children, and teachers died
> >
> > on the radio, they read out sadly
> > read out the list, of those killed
> > your granny heard it, heard your name!
> > they found your card, by your desk
> >
> > we decided not, not to tell you
> > also you had a sister, Margaret
> > who lived, lived just three days.
> >
> >
> > pmcmanus
> > 413
> > Published in Jigsaw
> >
> > -----Original Message-----
> > From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
> > Behalf Of Max Richards
> > Sent: 22 January 2015 15:47
> > To: [log in to unmask]
> > Subject: come friendly bombs
> >
> >> On Jan 22, 2015, at 9:22 PM, Bill Wootton <[log in to unmask]>
> wrote:
> >>
> >> Find the poem, Herr Pat or re-write it. What a hoot!
> >>
> >> Bill
> >>
> >>
> >>> On 22 Jan 2015, at 8:08 pm, Patrick McManus
> > <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> >>>
> >>> Enjoyed this warm tale oops nearly wrote tail -and to think that I
> >>> was a top speller at school -(long long since) I lost my grandmother
> >>> early on was devastated for years-I remember but probable can't fine
> >>> a WW2 poem about us together-where the aircraft I was cheering on
> >>> were actually German and I got hauled back into our air-raid shelter!
> >>> Cheers P
> > Slough
> >
> > Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!
> > It isn't fit for humans now,
> > There isn't grass to graze a cow.
> > Swarm over, Death!
> > Come, bombs and blow to smithereens
> > Those air -conditioned, bright canteens, Tinned fruit, tinned meat,
> tinned
> > milk, tinned beans, Tinned minds, tinned breath.
> >
> > Mess up the mess they call a town-
> > A house for ninety-seven down
> > And once a week a half a crown
> > For twenty years.
> >
> > And get that man with double chin
> > Who'll always cheat and always win,
> > Who washes his repulsive skin
> > In women's tears:
> >
> > And smash his desk of polished oak
> > And smash his hands so used to stroke
> > And stop his boring dirty joke
> > And make him yell.
> >
> > Slough
> >
> > by John Betjeman (1906 - 1984)
> >
> > John Betjeman published his poem about Slough in 1937 in the collected
> works
> > Continual Dew. Slough was becoming increasingly industrial and some
> housing
> > conditions were very cramped. In willing the destruction of Slough,
> Betjeman
> > urges the bombs to pick out the vulgar profiteers but to spare the bald
> > young clerks. He really was very fond of his fellow human beings. Slough
> is
> > much improved nowadays and he might be pleasantly surprised by a stroll
> > there.
> >
> > http://www-cdr.stanford.edu/intuition/Slough.html=
> >
>