I spotted this poppet of a pink rose against the crumbling English church wall this week. It reminded me of the song 'The Last Rose of Summer': 'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone.' Thomas Moore Quite how this melancholy song slipped into our normally upbeat, think 'My old man said follow the van' , family singalongs, I don't know. But since then, I've always looked for my last rose of summer! The last rose of Summer got me thinking how Winter has well and truly appeared in the United Kingdom. She slipped in unannounced after an endless summer. On the back of the gritter lorries, with witty names like Grittie McVittie, Brad Grit, or Spready Mercury , busy throwing salt to stop roads freezing over. Wren's thought for the day: There is a stoic cheerfulness here despite a gloomy outlook in more ways than one... Brexit remains a monumental looming moment ...
Bangkok Blogger's birds eye view of the world