February 18, 2008

Jump racing is suffering as a result of the frosty weather at the moment but it seems as though Taunton has a fair chance of getting the go ahead tomorrow.

I see that David Pipe’s course and distance winner Commander Vic goes in the 3.50, partnered by Timmy Murphy. Commander Vic stays well and should have a good chance of following up.

David Pipe also has a fancied runner in the 4.20 with the dual bumper winner Seven is my Number. He was a bit disappointing on his last outing when he could only finish 6th here but it could be that the ground didn’t suit him that day. He is opposed by the well regarded Paul Nicholls runner Woolcombe Folly. He has shown good form in bumpers, including a 54th at Aintree last May when Tazbar, a 3 time winner over hurdles since was 4th. This will be Woolcombe Folly’s first run over hurdles and he could well make it a winning debut.

My love is a Theosophist
And reads the Ramayana;
Her luncheon is a pot of tea,
Her breakfast a banana.
She says that matter tends to clog
The spirit-force behind it.
My love is a Theosophist,
And very tough I find it.

My love is a Theosophist
And wears no combinations;
She says they get her thought-urge weak
And lower her vibrations.
She tells me flannel next the skin
Impedes the astral motions.
My love is a Theosophist,
And has the strangest notions.

My love is a Theosophist,
And few things I deplore as
Sincerely as the thoughtless way
She crabs her neighbours’ auras.
She sensed Miss Hope’s as bilious green,
And got some quack to vet it.
My love is a Theosophist,
And many folk regret it.

My love is a Theosophist,
And though distinctly stouter
She moves on a more mental plane
Than do the folks about her.
She moved into a potted plant
Last week at Mrs Reece’s.
My love is a Theosophist,
So I picked up the pieces.

My love is a Theosophist,
And has an intimation
That she was Florence Nightingale
In her last incarnation.
She senses me as Titus Oates,
More Ape-man than Apollo,
My love is a Theosophist,
And difficult to follow.

My love is a Theosophist,
And does not seem to worry
If they forget to send the fish
Or fail to cook the curry.
As my potatoes grow more burnt
Her temper grows the sweeter.
My love is a Theosophist,
And lives on Veeta Weeta.

My love is a Theosophist–
Or, rather, is no longer;
For, though her Ego-urge was strong,
The Cosmic Will as stronger.
While moving on the Higher Plane
She moved into a lorry.
My love was a Theosophist,
And really I’m not sorry.

Patrick Barrington

Day: February 18, 2008

Diary: February 19 2008

My love is a theosophist