Its A Wonderful World

Dear readers,

On my walk-about this lunchtime, a lady spoke to me. She explained how putting a pot of tea on the dining table, tuning into a radio station, playing the following track, made her feel thankful for life.

Google it…if you do not already own it on LP, CD or own it in your Heart, Google it. How many of you remember that smiling face and amazing voice? Whom sung it and when?

It was sung, by Louis Armstrong and he sensationally spoke volumes, when singing, ‘It’s A Wonderful World’. And if we search outside our minds. We will see Wonder-World. Not necessarily through a telescope to the Universe, but here, now and making a difference to our World.

Be strong, readers, thank you for following LoveGoostrey.

Sarah McNaught
Publishing Director


  1. Reply

    It is indeed a wonderful world.

    At these times do not burden yourselves with what you don’t have … or how you wish things would be. Instead soothe your anxieties by acknowledging what you do have and the many fulfilled basic needs that most of us take for granted. Don’t spend your time in the waiting room of life waiting for the main events to appear. For they very often can seem disappointing compared to the movie that we’ve played of them so many times in our hearts and minds. Instead know that you will cope with whatever each day brings and that you can find contentment in the little moments of joy that surround us always.

    Dream, plan, rest. Think of things that you can post on this lovely site. Things that may be of interest to your friends, neighbours and community. Write a story.

    Tales of the Grass Elf.

    Deep deep in the long grass lurks a wise old elf. He is the grass sage. As each weather-beaten day passes, the elf observes all, adding to his sagacity. As twilight approaches, he scratches and scribbles, into a leafy diary, many wise words.

    He came yesterday, the man who cares for the grass. He speaks to it and his words are gentle. He spoke to me and I listened. He began his tale …

    “I didn’t sleep well last night. Something was niggling at the back of my mind. Something wasn’t quite right. I tried to rouse myself with a splash of first-light dew and it dawned on me to wander down to the canal to break the fast with my old friend ‘Clenchy’, the Grump-Troll who patrols the bridge. His real name isn’t Clenchy. It’s a name we call him after he developed a greed for ragwort and slug soup, which has played havoc with his Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

    Clenchy was perturbed. Well, he’s always perturbed … He’s a Grump Troll … but he was overly anxious on this occasion. He explained that a travelling family of Boggarts had passed through the dell that previous evening. The Boggart is a particular malevolent type of Bogeyman that thrives upon mischief and dastardly deeds, becoming ever more active in the very dry and hot spells that, in yellow years, follow the Solstice. The Boggarts had entertained themselves crossing the small canal bridge, to and fro, many times whilst stomping heavily with their huge feet. Several stones had loosened under the assault and the bridge was at a point of collapse.

    Clearly something had to be done … fast. I remembered an ancient substance, talked about by the elders, that once set is firmer than a weasel’s pledge. Weasels get a bad press. They are often portrayed as sneaky and cunning characters, and they can play that role well, but if a weasel tells you he will do something, then you consider it already done. This substance is called Tecrenoc and it’s main ingredient is Ogre’s nail clippings.”

    (More to follow … maybe!)


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