Terse Tuesday 28

As I get older, so many of my travel souvenirs are food and drink. What power has taste to evoke memory, induce reminiscence!

Chicago was popcorn and celery salt. Ireland was Bewley’s tea and dillisk and carrageen. And Scotland? Ardbeg Uigedail and Marmite, chutney and cocoa balsamic. On a night as dark as this, I’m savouring what’s left and dreaming of my next trip.

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Terse Tuesday 25

“To His Dead Body”
By Siegfried Sassoon

When roaring gloom surged inward and you cried,
Groping for friendly hands, and clutched, and died,
Like racing smoke, swift from your lolling head
Phantoms of thought and memory thinned and fled.

Yet, though my dreams that throng the darkened stair
Can bring me no report of how you fare,
Safe quit of wars, I speed you on your way
Up lonely, glimmering fields to find new day,
Slow-rising, saintless, confident and kind—
Dear, red-faced father God who lit your mind.