William Barnes - poet

Now, you've probably gathered that I love poetry. Well, I've just been introduced for a poet totally new to me. His name is William Barnes and he wrote in the Dorset vernacular. Despite that, his poems of rural life are emminently readable. I particularly like this one, which reminds me of my father so much. There's a statue of Barnes' Dorset Shepherd in Durngate Street in Dorchester, and very good it is too.

THE SHEPHERD O’ THE FARM.

Oh! I be shepherd o’ the farm,
 Wi’ tinklèn bells an’ sheep-dog’s bark,
An’ wi’ my crook a-thirt my eärm,
 Here I do rove below the lark.

An’ I do bide all day among
 The bleäten sheep, an’ pitch their vwold;
An’ when the evenèn sheädes be long.
 Do zee em all a-penn’d an’ twold.

An’ I do zee the friskèn lam’s,
 Wi’ swingèn taïls an’ woolly lags,
A-playèn roun’ their veedèn dams,
 An’ pullèn o’ their milky bags.

An’ I bezide a hawthorn tree,
 Do’ zit upon the zunny down.
While sheädes o’ zummer clouds do vlee
 Wi’ silent flight along the groun’.

An’ there, among the many cries
 O’ sheep an’ lambs, my dog do pass
A zultry hour, wi’ blinkèn eyes,
 An’ nose a-stratch’d upon the grass;

But, in a twinklèn, at my word,
 He’s all awake, an’ up, an’ gone
Out roun’ the sheep lik’ any bird,
 To do what he’s a-zent upon.

An’ I do goo to washèn pool,
 A-sousèn over head an’ ears,
The shaggy sheep, to cleän their wool
 An’ meäke em ready vor the sheärs.

An’ when the shearèn time do come,
 Then we do work vrom dawn till dark;
Where zome do shear the sheep, and zome
 Do mark their zides wi’ meästers mark.

An’ when the shearèn’s all a-done,
 Then we do eat, an’ drink, an’ zing,
In meäster’s kitchen till the tun
 Wi’ merry sounds do sheäke an’ ring.

Oh! I be shepherd o’ the farm,
 Wi’ tinklèn bells an’ sheep dog’s bark,
An’ wi’ my crook a-thirt my eärm,
 Here I do rove below the lark.

Annual Garage Update

Can't quite remember when I last did an update on our garage, but I think possibly only 1 machine has changed since then.  Dick eventually admitted that his days of riding heavtweight bikes like the CrossRunner have come to an end. His age, and the state of his foot means he has gone back to a CB500X. This will be the third one he's had, and the latest variant has considerable improvements over the previous versions. Only time will tell if he keeps it.............

Meanwhile, I'm still loving my 650. It really is the closest thing to my old Hornet that I've ridden since. It's a little heavier than I would like, but as long as it's manageable, I'll ride it. All we need now is permission to ride it further than I have been doing lately............

One thing I have had to buy for it, is a new tankbag. I've had a little Oxford one (my equivalent of a ladies' handbag) for the best part of 30 years, and it has finally given up the ghost. Dread to think how many hundreds of miles that little bag has done. I've used it everday, and it has been all over the country on countless petrol tanks. I've got a new Honda one on order. Let's hope it lasts as well. If it does, it will probably outlast me!

Back to the garage - the two little bikes remain the same. There really is no need to change either of them. Twinkle, our little CB125F, is the perfect tool for running around town, doing shopping and running errands, and is the perfect companion for Chunky Munky for those days in the sun when all you want to do is run around the country lanes and enjoy the peace and quiet of the countryside

Incidentally, that picture was taken in the centre of Hamstreet. Just out of the picture is a cannonball. Why, I hear you ask? Well, Hamstreet is twinned with the little town of Therouanne in France. Therouanne was once a city with a cathedral which was sacked by the troops of Henry V. The stone cannonball was a gift from the mayor of the twin town, presented with the words 'You can have your cannonball back!

So, there you are - an update on my garage and a history lesson combined! Aren't you lucky!