Years ago my mother introduced me to the “My Friends” books. These were a series of books written by Jane Duncan, a.k.a. Janet Sandison. Janet Sandison was a Scottish woman writing in the 1950’s and ’60’s. The My Friends books are fiction but roughly based on her own experiences. She grew up on a croft (farm) in the highlands in Scotland. She started writing seriously when she and her doctor husband were living in Jamaica. in the early 1950’s. (During the 2nd World War she served in the RAF.)

I recently purchased one of Janet Sandison’s books – a title that was new to me. It is titled Jean in the Morning. It was published in 1969, after the My Friends series. My copy its inscribed “To Susan Gray From Janet Nevada, Sudbury Ont., 1974” I look forward to reading it.

I am exploring my new set up with my computer in a different position. I am in a corner of our “new” apartment. We’ve been here 10 months and are still rearranging the furniture. I am not facing the television screen but I can still hear the commentary. I’ve been scanning some of my postcards, but I can’t seem to get them to a place where I can upload them to my blog. It’s frustrating.

Following is what I think is an appropriate poem for where we (my husband and I) are today

A Poem by William Butler Yeats. A leading Irish poet of the 19th/20th century. 1865-1939

When you are old and and gray and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, pull out this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moment of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur a little sadly how love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars