This blog is about the entrants in the year 1960, to the Faculty of Medicine, University of Ceylon, Colombo. The email address for communications is, 1960batch@gmail.com. Please BOOKMARK this page for easier access later.Photo is the entrance porch of the old General Hospital, Colombo, still in existence. Please use the search box below to look for your requirement.
Friday, April 10, 2015
Popular hits in the UK during the time of the World War 2.
Wish me luck as you wave me good-bye – Vera Lynn
25 minutes of World War 2 songs – Sing along.
https://youtu.be/wANrGvrDjg4
Written as a poem in 1915, during World War I, it was published under the title "Das Lied eines jungen Soldaten auf der Wacht" (German for "The Song of a Young Soldier on Watch") in 1937 and was first recorded by Lale Andersen in 1939 under the title "Das Mädchen unter der Laterne" ("The Girl under the Lantern")."Lili Marleen" (also known as "Lili Marlen", "Lilli Marlene", "Lily Marlene", "Lili Marlène" and similar variants) is a German love song which became popular during World War II with soldiers of both sides.
Lili Marleen
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
This article is about the song. For the 1950 British film, see Lilli Marlene (film). For the 1981 German film by Rainer Werner Fassbinder, see Lili Marleen (film).
Written as a poem in 1915, during World War I, it was published under the title "Das Lied eines jungen Soldaten auf der Wacht" (German for "The Song of a Young Soldier on Watch") in 1937 and was first recorded by Lale Andersen in 1939 under the title "Das Mädchen unter der Laterne" ("The Girl under the Lantern")."Lili Marleen" (also known as "Lili Marlen", "Lilli Marlene", "Lily Marlene", "Lili Marlène" and similar variants) is a German love song which became popular during World War II with soldiers of both sides.
Following the Nazi invasion of Yugoslavia in 1941, Radio Belgrade became Soldatensender Belgrad and played the song frequently to entertain theGerman armed forces within its reach. It became popular throughout Europe and the Mediterranean among both Axis and Allied troops.
Vera Lynn - Lili Marlene
Marlene Dietrich - Lili Marleen - In the original German.
https://youtu.be/8DXruigKRRc
Vera Lynn – Lili Marlene Lyrics
Underneath the lantern
By the barrack gate
Darling I remember
The way you used to wait
'Twas there that you whispered tenderly
That you loved me
You'd always be
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene
Time would come for roll call
Time for us to part
Darling I'd caress you
And press you to my heart
And there neath that far off lantern light
I'd hold you tight
We'd kiss good night
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene
Orders came for sailing
Somewhere over there
All confined to barracks
'Twas more than I could bear
I knew you were waiting in the street
I heard your feet
But could not meet
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene
Resting in our billet
Just behind the line
Even though we're parted
Your lips are close to mine
You wait where that lantern softly gleamed
Your sweet face seems
To haunt my dreams
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene.
By the barrack gate
Darling I remember
The way you used to wait
'Twas there that you whispered tenderly
That you loved me
You'd always be
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene
Time would come for roll call
Time for us to part
Darling I'd caress you
And press you to my heart
And there neath that far off lantern light
I'd hold you tight
We'd kiss good night
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene
Orders came for sailing
Somewhere over there
All confined to barracks
'Twas more than I could bear
I knew you were waiting in the street
I heard your feet
But could not meet
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene
Resting in our billet
Just behind the line
Even though we're parted
Your lips are close to mine
You wait where that lantern softly gleamed
Your sweet face seems
To haunt my dreams
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene.
Some enchanted evening - South Pacific
Please click on each of the web-links below with the speakers on:-
https://youtu.be/Y15xkcw5TtU - Mantovani & his orchestra.
South Pacific was shown in the cinemas of Colombo in the early 1960s. I saw it twice.
PGV
Iced tea and Kidney failure.
http://www.livescience.com/50347-iced-tea-kidney-failure.html
PS
Sri Lankans drink a lot of 'Plain tea', especially the labouring class. Could this be a cause of the Kidney disease prevalent in our dry zone?
Philip G V
PS
Sri Lankans drink a lot of 'Plain tea', especially the labouring class. Could this be a cause of the Kidney disease prevalent in our dry zone?
Philip G V
They all fade away in the end, even the greatest of all.
Learnt from this beautifully written
script-
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12:19 PM (1 hour ago)
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Woods, seven years on from the last of his own 14 major wins, has come to Augusta like an ageing prize-fighter desperate to convince that he has one more title shot left in him.
The hype is still there, the style still instantly recognisable. But the physical gifts have dwindled, even as the brain still says: I can do this, I can get it back.
Former number one Woods is now ranked 111th in the world
Such is the aura that Woods created in his glorious time at the top - and he was a player like none other, playing a way no other man could - that it still exerts some of its old grip.
No matter that Thursday was his first round of competitive golf in more than two months, that he is outside the world's top 100 for first time since his debut PGA Tour win in Las Vegas 19 years ago, that since the start of last year he has finished in the top 50 of a tournament just once.
When he proclaimed on Tuesday that he was back, that he had found the miraculous answer to his long-term travails, much of that logic went out of the window. Everyone wants to believe. Everyone wants to be convinced.
It is reminiscent of Muhammad Ali in his own late 30s, persuading the disciples and dreamers he was still the indomitable force of old even as the sorry defeats kept piling up.
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Muhammad Ali lost three of his final five professional fights to finish with five career defeats
In some ways the two men have much in common - the most famous sportsmen of their generations, creators of impossible storylines - and in some way so little. While Woods used to like playing soldiers, obsessing over Navy SEALS videos and computer games and even injuring his knee while indulging in mock military exercises, Ali would give up his world titles in protest at a real war and real political injustice.
Ali was unable, for so long, to accept that his rare talents had dwindled away. Woods has seemed to lose the distinction between performing well on the range at home and doing the same in the toughest arena of all.
Better chips have come out of a microwaved cardboard box than the stuff Woods produced around the greens at the aptly-named Waste Management Open earlier this year. He was recognisable alright, but only as a club hacker who hadn't bothered practising.
On a scorching Augusta afternoon that was no longer the problem. His short game was excellent. His touch around the greens was sure. It was what led to those shots that was his downfall.
Woods's major victories |
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Masters(4) |
1997, 2001, 2002, 2005 |
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PGA Championship(4) |
1999, 2000, 2006, 2007 |
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US Open(3) |
2000, 2002, 2008 |
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Open
Championship(3) |
2000, 2005, 2006 |
Those polo shirts were a model of restraint compared to Tiger off the tee - first drive right, second drive right, dropped club on the sixth as his ball swished into the pine needles once again, self-admonishment on the ninth following two below-par shots.
Why has he chosen to come back here, stepping straight into the glare of a tournament that attracts the public like none other?
In many ways it makes sense - coming back to where it all began, coming back to the place where he has won more majors than anywhere else.
His triumph at Augusta in 1997 broke records and established a new hegemony. Even since the last of his four titles in 2005, through periods when his form has slipped and false-started, he has finished Masters tournaments second, tied second, tied third, three times tied fourth and once tied sixth.
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Nicklaus won his 18th and final major at Augusta and remains the oldest winner of the Green Jacket
At 39 he should not be too old. Nicklaus was 46 when he pulled off that romantic charge through the back nine in 1986, six years after his previous major win, Ben Crenshaw 43 when he won the second of his Masters titles in 1995, 11 years after previous major win. Gary Player, Sam Snead and Mark O'Meara all won here in their 40s.
The galleries, dressed in the brand his endorsement pushed to new levels of popularity, show no sign of caring about the car crashes in his personal life, figurative and literal.
It is the perfect course. Yet he has an imperfect game.
Moments after being given a standing ovation by the crowds lining the 11th fairway and 12th tee, he stuck his iron into Rae's Creek.
There was a groan, and not even one of horror. Disappointment, but not surprise.
To finish one over par was no disintegration. World number one Rory McIlroy, no longer his heir apparent but comfortable on the throne, was only two shots better off.
But when you have changed the game, forced even the living museum that is Augusta to be rebuilt, a supporting role in the chorus line can never be enough.
And there, out in front by three shots, a full nine ahead of Woods, was a 21-year-old, Jordan Spieth, doing to Woods and his generation exactly what Tiger once did to the champions of his past.
Even those who never fell for his buccaneering charms it can be melancholy to watch.
There are flickers of the old genius. His iron shot from deep in the trees to the left of the seventh fairway, hit with a skip and jump and total disregard for precedent and aerodynamics to the heart of the green, could have been imagined by few and pulled off by fewer.
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Woods has not won a major since the 2008 US Open
But flickers are all they were, the conjuring only required because control had already been lost. It was the punt of a gambler, of a man who cannot trust the prosaic.
A man who once lived in a world of physical certainty and total self-belief now has to battle the bewilderment of his own body not doing what he wants.
Woods was always obsessed with advancing his swing. Now, on his fourth guru and fourth re-model, he is lost in old muscle memory and new drills, the old certainties gone, the new ones always tantalisingly out of reach.
Where has this compulsive fine-tuning got him? Drifting like a ghost at the scene of his greatest triumphs, chasing something no longer there.
Each morning, by the white wooden gates to Augusta, a brimstone preacher warns the queuing spectators of the certain hell they face ahead. A well-hit three-iron away, in benign golfing heaven, the ancient saints in Palmer, Nicklaus and Player are venerated all the same.
Woods is not yet ready to go the same way. He will keep raging against the dying of the light, maybe well enough to win one final day in the sun.
But it will come in the end, just as it always has, just as it always will.
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