The Dawn Patrol



Sometimes I fly at dawn above the sea,

Where, underneath, the restless waters flow -

Silver, and cold, and slow.

Dim in the East there burns a new-born sun

Whose rosy gleams along the ripples run

Save where the mist droops low,

Hiding the level loneliness from me.



Paul Brewster R.N.A.S D.F.C. (1917)



In “The Malory Verse Book” by Editha Jenkinson



One of my eyes sees the world quite differently from the other and my vision changes daily so my poor old brain is always playing catch up. How I agree about the opticians in the high street and the hospital. I had to make quite an independent study of how light is made up and what happens when it enters my eye. I have come to the conclusion that the experts look at the results of examinations and decide this or that must be so but they do not really know what it is like to live with all these floaters, flashes, zigzagging lines and other craziness. Changing fonts has helped me, don’t know why I didn’t think of it before - my tablet was getting closer and closer to my nose!

I found an old copy of “The Malory Verse Book” by Editha Jenkinson published in 1919 buried in a used bookstore. It’s supposed to be for children but is in three sections, the central one called “The heart of the nation”. There are 81 poems here almost all written during WW1 by serving men. There are several written by those who flew in those open cockpit early planes and patriotism shines through them all. I doubt that many would care for these poems today, doubt they would appeal to children, but there is a poignancy about the book.

I am going to study this old book some more, the thick pages are all different sizes, the edges rough cut and nestling between the leaves a couple of letters dating from 1920. ( )