Your humble scribe will be doing visiting things this week, so posting will be light. Anyway, you’re better off reading a bit of Larkin rather than this guff and nonsense:
Days
What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?
Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.