THE REAL SUNDAY ROAST

On my last post I mentioned that Eddie Bluelights interviewed me for his Sunday Roast Feature. It is now live on http://eddybluelights.blogspot.com/ and, if I might say so myself, he did a very good job of it, even if he is a bit risque at times!

Reminds me of when I had my one and only full body massage in the Alps last winter. As I was approaching the ripe old age of 70 I thought that it was something I should experience, and where better to experience it than in the Alps. I duly booked myself in and presented myself to the masseur, a very handsome French man, who told me to strip off down to my bra and pants and enquired why I felt that I needed a massage.

When I told him my story he naturally assumed that I was there purely out of curiosity. He worked merrily away, chatting about this and that until he got to my shoulders. He stood back and exclaimed "Madame! I sink zis is not a luxury but a necessity, you have very naughty shoulders". I was alarmed. "Naughty shoulders?" "Yes, naughty shoulders". "Oh! you mean knotty shoulders". "Yes, zis is what I say, naughty shoulders". If only!!!

I heard this read out at an AA meeting once. It never fails to make me cry.

Touch of the Masters Hand

Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
thought it scarcely worth his while
to waste much time on the old violin,
but held it up with a smile;

"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"A dollar, a dollar"; then two!"
"Only two? Two dollars, and who'll make it three?

Three dollars, once; three dollars twice;
going for three..". But no,
from the room, far back, a gray-haired man
came forward and picked up the bow;

Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
and tightening up the loose strings,
he played a melody pure and sweet
as caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
with a voice that was quiet and low,
said; "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.

A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice,
and going and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand
what changed its worth." Swift came the reply:
"The touch of a master's hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,
and battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
much like the old violin,

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine;
a game - and he travels on.
"He is going" once, and "going twice,
He's going and almost gone."

But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
never can quite understand
the worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
by the touch of the Master's hand.

Myra 'Brooks' Welch

Davy and I were touched by the Master's hand.