I am becoming increasingly fond of William Cowper, the poet, depressive and occasionally-insane writer of God Moves In A Mysterious Way. The more I discover, the more my heart goes out to him, and the more his words get inside me. I'm trying to find a good tune to make O For A Closer Walk With God singable.
And now, what time ye all may read through dimming tears his story,
How discord on the music fell and darkness on the glory,
And how when, one by one, sweet sounds and wandering lights departed,
He wore no less a loving face because so broken-hearted.
With quiet sadness and no gloom, I learn to think upon him,
With meekness that is gratefulness to God whose Heaven hath won him,
Who suffered once the madness-cloud to His own love to blind him,
But gently led the blind along where breath and bird could find him.
A recent message from my ex-flatmate Clare:
I just wanted to let you know that before the news came out about John
Terry, I had a dream that you became England captain because you were
Can't really argue with that, can you?
It's always going to be a battle to be different. The easy thing is to
go along with the crowd, everybody's doing it. You know? Try going the
opposite direction to a crowd. It's hard. You won't get very far.
From an interview with Euan Murray in the Guardian. He's probably Scotland's best player, but won't be playing against France this week because he has foresworn sports on the Sabbath, a la Eric Liddell, and you can tell that he's really agonised over it. Personally, I'm not fussed about one day of the week being more holy than any other, but I really respect the fella for it. And I'd love Scotland to win without him.