The Songstone

Something to make my gypsy blood tingle:

Perhaps a response to Spanish Ladies

Occasionally a blog comes up that is so good that any comment is inadequate. One such is Tom Clark's , from whom I have learnt, among other things, about the works of Curzio Malaparte . This piece on Girls in the Wheatfields I found almost unbearably horrible. Phil Hall, long the enfant terrible of the Guardian's Poem of the Week , runs an entertaining blog called Donkeyshott and Xuitlacoche , and has been generous enough to supply this list of traditional Christmas carols . John Wells ran a very funny column a few days ago on Steve Bell's Geordie Royalty : "Ahse o' Windsor is too bleedin' poncey this day n' age" "Ah should fackin' coco!" Finally you will indulge me if I mention the beautiful and talented Marie-Claire at Thursday's Child : the diary of a ballerina. On Saturday I spent a few hours in a room full of nerdy fans at Reading Library for a celebration of the works of H.P Lovecraft . I found myself 25 years back in

Kantham karana makarana adhi manadhim, kala manabhasam, Kalindi gatha kaliya sirasi muhur nruthyantham sunruthyantham, Kalam kalamanatheetham kalithasesham kalidoshagyam, Kala thraya gatha hethum, pranamatha govindam paramanandham. I salute that Govinda who is the extreme limit of happiness, Who is pretty, cause of causes, primeval, without beginning and a form of time, Who danced again and again on the head of serpent Kaliya in the river Yamuna, Who is black in colour, ever present in time and destroys the evil effects of Kali, And who is the cause of the march of time from the past to the future. (translated by P.R Ramachander)