....in the dusk, with the light behind her!
So runs the old Gilbert and Sullivan song - a very sexist remark in these politically correct days I am afraid. The same goes for the old rhyme:-
Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for his living.
But the child that is born on the Sabbath day
is happy and wise and good and gay. Who would use "gay" in that context these days?
Tonight we are going to a Burns Night Party. These particular friends hold one every year on the nearest Saturday to January 25th, There will be neaps and tatties to eat along with the haggis, lots of puds and nice conversation. There will not be dancing or bagpipes - we are all too old for the former and the bungalow is too small for the latter.
But just taking Tess for a walk up the lane a few minutes ago (when I noticed, entirely by the way, that rabbits have chewed the bark off many small bushes and saplings which shows how hungry they got during the snow) I got to thinking about what I was going to put on my blog today and about Robert Burns.
O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,
An' foolish notion:
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us
An' ev'n devotion! (From Ode to a Louse!!!)
I wondered - do we ever see ourselves as others see us? Maybe the only place that this truly occurs is when we catch sight of ourselves in a shop window. Correction - sometimes I catch sight of a bent old lady hobbling along, head down, hair askew - only to realise a moment later that that bent old lady is me.
Because of course there comes a time of life (which I have long-since reached) when in order to look at oneself in the mirror one has a check list:
Dim the lights to 'favourable' - check.
Stand up straight - check.
Pull in tummy muscles - check.
Put on a pleasant expression - check.
Take a quick peek in the mirror. Other than that - avoid the mirror as you would the plague.
I can tell you though, from my somewhat advanced age, that there is suddenly a day when you don't care any more. Time has taken its toll of smooth skin, slim waist, thick luscious hair, shapely legs and you say to yourself "I am what I am and what the hell!"
But what about the inside? I would think that we never ever know how others see us in that respect. I know what I think I am like. I know that I try to adhere to my rule -"to thine own self be true". I think I am a fairly generous spirit and I think I am quite good-natured - but then, don't we all think like that? Is there anybody out there who thinks they are terribly mean, bad-tempered and thoroughly objectionable? I doubt it. I guess we all go to the grave with our secret selves intact. We can't tell anyone what we are like - actions speak louder than words after all - and everyone will have their own opinions of us.
Have you noticed in Obituaries nobody ever speaks ill of the dead? However much of a curmudgeon a person is, once they are dead their good points rise to the surface like oil on water and their obituaries become glowing.
So, here's to you Rabbie Burns, two days early, I raise my glass of single malt - I might find you hard to read in dialect but my goodness me you put into words one or two things that are so true - and none more than this.