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« A Song About California | Main | Hard Bargains »

May 06, 2009

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Oooh, I'm on a big Nina S. trip at the moment so this'll do very nicely, thank you.

Bless. I can well remember that walking the baby thing - fondly (but that's easy in retrospect) x

Very pleased to be of service Mr H, given all the lovely things I've found your way. Most especially the Naima.

Even though it can be exhausting at times, the baby walking is not a bad gig :) x.

No, those are precious moments.

There's a song that comes to mind immediately - it's called "Shake Ya Tailfeather." Serious dance song ;)

So true and they go by fast.

Hello Melissa, No one played that one on the podcast and I don't know it, so I will investigate! Thank you.

Oh dear, I hope Cock Sparrer didn't set you back in your baby-calming efforts. Or at least I hope you fast-forwarded...;)

I have vivid memories of the circular walk. I sang softened versions of Ramones and Billy Bragg tunes, simply because those were the ones whose lyrics were most readily accessible in my memory. Billy Bragg's "I Don't Need This Pressure, Ron" worked best; in fact, it still gets trotted out on occasion to calm Little Man.

No way did I fast-forward, I loved it! I was listening on the headphones and humming to the baby, you see. I can't wait to try the Billy Bragg though.

It warms my heart that the daddies are writing in on this one- you guys are wonderful x.

My favourite thing to read to Phoebe when she was tiny, (and one of my favourite things ever anyway) was...

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

xx

I love this, thank you so very much for posting it here.

Phoebe is a lucky lucky girl :).

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