Ivy

The Ivy Green - Charles Dickens

Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green,
That creepeth o’er ruins old!
Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,
In his cell so lone and cold.
The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed,
To pleasure his dainty whim:
And the mouldering dust that years have made
Is a merry meal for him.
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the Ivy green.

Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings,
And a staunch old heart has he.
How closely he twineth, how tight he clings,
To his friend the huge Oak Tree!
And slily he traileth along the ground,
And his leaves he gently waves,
As he joyously hugs and crawleth round
The rich mould of dead men’s graves.
Creeping where grim death has been,
A rare old plant is the Ivy green.

Whole ages have fled and their works decayed,
And nations have scattered been;
But the stout old Ivy shall never fade,
From its hale and hearty green.
The brave old plant, in its lonely days,
Shall fatten upon the past:
For the stateliest building man can raise,
Is the Ivy’s food at last.
Creeping on, where time has been,
A rare old plant is the Ivy green.

As I was working I looked out the window and noticed my elderly neighbour’s shed door was swinging in the wind. I popped out to close it. As I crossed the road Mr Veneering was just driving home and when he saw me he legged it over in a gouty florid sort of way ...
‘Glad I saw you; I just wanted to apologise...’
‘Thank you, but let’s leave it there ...’
‘No I want to say sorry, you don’t want a pair of old pensioners causing such a fuss’
‘It has gone on for a lot of years but enough said now, thanks C ...’
‘The trouble is J is on this medication...’
‘Can I just stop you there. I really don’t want to know. Please, just stop it and just try and love each other ...’
...and I head back indoors ...
Sigh.

Long catch up with my cousin this evening and considering plans for the funeral.
Weirdly we had been talking about David Olusoga and as I hung up I switched on the TV there he was interviewing Barack Obama.