Wednesday, November 13, 2019





Today I went to see my new GP at the Kerrisdale Walk In Clinic.  Unlike my previous GP whom Rosemary and I had for many years, this GP did not want to flush my blocked ears of wax. She told me to pour warm olive oil into them every evening for two weeks and to go back and see her. Because I have been battling a recurring melancholy she told me to fill out some forms and then to give them to the girls at the front desk. I immediately told her that I have become a politically correct man of this century and that the girls at the desk were women. She smiled and I was off.

This politically correct old man of 77 still likes to find women who are willing to pose with roses on their chest in a way that nothing shows. I like to see that lovely curve of a woman's waist and hips and that extra bit of concaveness of the belly and the  belly button.

After looking at possible images to illustrate this blog I remembered that in my past I have not only used roses and clematis but also an orchid.  


 More Emily Dickinson: 

 November left and clambered up
You cannot make remembrance grow
November
the maple wears a gayer scarf