Not me!
HEADS or TAILS
suggests
'TUNE'
TUNING IN.
No, not a tune, but 'tuning', an oddity of mine.
When it comes to bedtime I'm switching off 'on line',
I'm leaving all the blogging and the great technology;
It's the good old radio that soothes and comforts me.
Fifty-five years ago or more I left my place of birth,
Eager to live in other lands and travel round the earth.
And I can't say I've been homesick; I'm as happy as can be
But Morpheus, the god of sleep, works at the BBC.
I don't want people singing; I don't care for lullabies,
And I don't care for orchestras; they make me fantasise.
All I ask is boring talk in the accent I adore,
And I'm wafted back to England, away from this foreign shore.
The voices seem to drone away, so restful and genteel,
And I drift off to a sort of womb! That's the way I feel.
They may talk about their politics, their schools or the price of bread;
I sometimes hardly hear a single vital word they've said!
They may speak of dreadful murders, or suicide or rape;
It's really all the same to me! They just help me escape!
It's the voice and not the content, that sends me off to sleep.
And my sleep is dark and dreamless and, as it should be, deep.
And when it comes to morning and the sun starts shining bright.
The BBC's still talking! It's been chattering all night!
How the fixation started here:
http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/04/halfway-down.html
How the fixation started here:
http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/04/halfway-down.html
4 comments:
Except for the BBC, I can relate to this one!
We all have our own rituals to get into dreamland.
Lovely. I like looking out the patio door and watching my hummingbird light that switches colors all night long, until it gets light outside. It's a solar type light. I sleep in a recliner in the family room, so if I wake up, I still can see the little hummingbird changing it's colors, all night long.
The place of birth is close to the heart - and anything from that land is music to the soul indeed..!!!
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