Another milestone...

It's been a busy week and if I'm honest, not an easy one. Work continues ever so slowly on the house. Sissi is in good kidney, growing and generally coming along by leaps and bounds, especially when it comes to discovering chimneys, holes in the floor and other new and interesting ways to get dirty.

One milestone that passed unnoticed was the arrival sometime last week of Joy & Forgetfulness's 20,000th visitor. This is no great shakes for a blog that has been operating since 2008, but curiously enough 10,000 of those visits have been since Christmas.

The other milestone was of course the delivery of the first book from abebooks or bookdepository to the new house - it was Henry Newbolt's "The Happy Warrior" - a collection of stories for boys from the Age of Chivalry. This is a book I have coveted since I saw Donogh's copy and abebooks did not disappointed. I have been a fan of Newbolt's work since I first discovered him in the pages of Donald Featherstone's "Featherstones Complete Book of Wargaming" on my eleventh birthday.

I shan't tarry, I need to get some sleep before I go to work, but I will leave you with what is to my mind at least Newbolt's finest work. I heard it last from Mrs Kinchs grandfather who recited it from memory with me last week; he stumbled over a few words, excusable for a poem learned eighty years ago, but the sound and the sense were there.

Vitai Lampada There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night -- Ten to make and the match to win -- A bumping pitch and a blinding light, An hour to play and the last man in. And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat, Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote -- 'Play up! play up! and play the game!' The sand of the desert is sodden red, -- Red with the wreck of a square that broke; -- The Gatling's jammed and the Colonel dead, And the regiment blind with dust and smoke. The river of death has brimmed his banks, And England's far, and Honour a name, But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks: 'Play up! play up! and play the game!' This is the word that year by year, While in her place the School is set, Every one of her sons must hear, And none that hears it dare forget. This they all with a joyful mind Bear through life like a torch in flame, And falling fling to the host behind -- 'Play up! play up! and play the game!' Sir Henry Newbolt (1862-1938)

Hopefully I shall carry on playing the game for some time to come. Good night all.