As yet unacquainted with Robert Frost, last night I read Paul Muldoon’s introduction to the Folio Society’s selection of his poems. I must admit I found it difficult, and hope I will get on better with the poetry. 
Whilst I have been unable to render much help in the garden, Jackie has continued with her sterling work. Among other tasks, she has created two more beds where the log pile once lay. Separated by a boundary formed from a tree root and bricks, the one at the rear is an as yet inchoate shrubbery, and that in the foreground, filled with flowers.
The clematis Montana, emanating from beneath the poorly-looking, bright yellow-leaved tree, has been trained, with the aid of a branch pruned from another, to form an arch between that and the dead trunk, down which it now cascades. The tub in the left foreground of the first picture is destined to be adorned with a pot of flowers. To its left is a retrained fuchsia, yet to bloom. The weak morning light, filtered by cloud cover, is kinder to the photographer of white petals, obviating burning out the detail. Yesterday’s prints are contained in my photograph album spanning the period from December 1994 to August 1995. Today, I scanned another batch, this time from January ’95, recording a rugby match between Magnus, Newark; and Kings, Grantham schools. 
Sam, the Magnus captain, to our left of the referee, faces his opponent at the kick-off.
Here, Sam’s great friend, Lewis Cove makes the ball available with scant regard for his own safety. Lewis was as recklessly rampant, putting his body on the line all over the field, as was his Leicester and England namesake, Lewis Moody. Five years later, our Lewis was coaching in South Africa, and Sam was captaining Wadham College, Oxford.
Sometimes it is best to shut your eyes and hope for the best.
The referee pulled a muscle;
a replacement pointed the finger; the game continued
under new direction, and Sam went foraging in a ruck.
With the ball on its way, forwards are poised for the line-out leap.
At half-time there was the usual tactical talk.
Kings Grantham’s scrum seems to have collapsed.
Someone has obviously screwed up here.
Finally, Sam is prepared for a leap, as I was in Jessica’s 1982 photo.
Elizabeth had this last print in a folder of my pictures that she ‘borrowed’ for an album she made for Mum’s 80th birthday. She has only kept it for 12 years. She brought the whole selection back this evening, so we had to feed her. That was fair and reasonable really.
The meal consisted of roast lamb, parsnips, potatoes, and vegetables; crisp cauliflower and cabbage; and onion and red wine gravy, followed by pineapple syrup sponge and custard. Elizabeth and I finished the rioja.
I must be getting rather blasé about this blogging lark. WordPress have sent me a happy anniversary notice, celebrating my third. I had forgotten.