Tim – Tim O'Hare

Plymouth Miniatures #art

As might be apparent from some of my previous pieces on this website, through the latter part of 2025 and early months of 2026, I got into a nice routine of spending ~30 minutes on many mornings, creating miniature square, ink and watercolour paintings. Once I got established with this routine, I decided that I would always aim to produce these pictures in sets of twelve in what I now refer to as one of my ‘Miniature Watercolour’ series. On completion of one series, I would pick a new theme and then launch straight into painting the next set of pictures. Initially, most of my themes were geographically based, and most of those were relatively local (Dartmoor Scenes, Capital City Landmarks, Cornwall Landmarks, Exmoor Views), but a few other themes did find their way into the mix (House Plants, Trees). Consequently, given that I live and work in Plymouth, the only surprising thing about me completing a Plymouth Miniatures series is that it was the seventh theme I had tackled.

Some of the subjects depicted in this Plymouth Miniature watercolour series overlap with ones I included in the (larger) Plymouth Postcards series I painted earlier in the year, but there are quite a few that I hadn’t tackled before. Working from top-left, across and down the grid of pictures above (with the different ones marked with a *), the paintings show:

the Mayflower Steps* – which are not actually the steps from which the Pilgrim Fathers departed English shores in 1620, but a more modern creation.
the Dolphin Pub* in the Barbican – possibly the most iconic and well-known drinking establishment in the city.
boats moored on the quayside of Sutton Harbour*.
Smeaton’s Tower – formerly the lighthouse on the Eddystone Rock, it was rebuilt on Plymouth Hoe in the 1880s as a tourist attraction, and is arguably now the best-known symbol of the city.
the Custom’s House and Three Crowns pubs next to Sutton Harbour.
Tinsido Lido – a restored open-air art-deco swimming pool on the city waterfront.
the National Marine Aquarium.
the Roland Levinsky Building on the University of Plymouth campus next to the city centre – named after the former Vice-Chancellor of the university (2002-2007).
Anthony Gormley’s Look II* sculpture, gazing out pensively over Plymouth Sound with the Hoe beyond.
the Melville Building in the Royal William Yard – formerly the Royal Navy Victualling Yard, built between 1826 and 1835, and now a location for swanky flats, a cinema, some restaurants and small retail outlets, and fairly frequent food and craft fairs and art exhibitions.
Saltram House* – the Georgian home of the Parker family on the southern bank of the River Plym, now owned by the National Trust and a key location used in the film adaptation of Jane Austen’s novel Sense and Sensibility.
the 16th century The Merchant’s House*, one of the few really old properties in the city that survived the German bombing raids in World War II.

If I had to pick a favourite from this set I think I would select the Look II sculpture, partly because it’s an unusual and somewhat quirky subject, but also because I’m pleased with the way that I captured the variation of colour of the copper blocks…

In the autumn (2025), I decided that, given their local interest, I would list framed, home-produced prints of these miniature pictures on Facebook Marketplace, and I was really surprised and a little shocked, to find that quite a few people decided to buy them as Christmas presents. I’ve also sold a few prints and greetings cards featuring the individual pictures via my Etsy shop. In addition, I used the pictures to make a small desk calendar and sold a few of those too – in fact I have one on my desk in front of me at the moment! So what started off as a fairly brief, meditative morning diversion, has ended up being a (very minor…) commercial success!

Exmoor Views #art

Exmoor Views Miniature Watercolour Series

Our holiday in Exmoor in July 2025 obviously left me in an Exmoory mood, because within a couple of weeks of our return home I found that I had painted nine miniature watercolours of Exmoor Views. These were in the same small square format that I had used for my previous miniature watercolour series (Dartmoor Scenes , House Plants, Capital City Landmarks, Cornwall Landmarks, and Trees), with each one being painted quickly as part of the ‘morning routine’ that I generally try to get through each day before I try to settle into some more substantive activity.

Most of the subjects for these pictures were locations that we had visited during our holiday, with a couple being other Exmoor locations that I was familiar with from previous visits (including the many family holidays we had in Exmoor when I was a child). Working from top-left, across and down the grid of pictures above, the paintings show:

a ruined barn in Porlock Bay
the Valley of the Rocks near Lynton
Landacre Bridge over the River Barle (possibly my mother’s favourite spot)
the bridge and ford at Malmsmead at the head of the Doone Valley
Dunkery Beacon – Somerset’s highest point
St Bueno’s Church at Culbone (said to be the smallest parish in England)
Oare Church (where Lorna Doone was shot on her wedding day)
Robber’s Bridge
a view across Porlock Bay from Bossington Hill

At the time I painted these pictures I had not fully settled into a pattern with my miniature watercolour pictures, but at some point in late summer 2025 I decided that I wanted all of these series to consist of twelve pictures, and so in October I painted three additional paintings to complete the set. These depict:

the ancient clapper bridge – Tarr Steps (also over the River Barle)
Dunster Castle
a group of red deer

Of these pictures, the most surprising one, both in terms of the subject matter and how the picture turned out, is the last. As I noted in Trees, my paintings generally avoid having people or animals in them (at least not in any detail), so the decision to have a go at drawing and painting Exmoor’s most dramatic wildlife was, for me, an unexpected and somewhat brave one! I was pleasantly surprised when they turned out quite well, in fact I think that this final picture is my favourite of the twelve:

As with my other miniature watercolour series (the ones listed above and several more that I have produced more recently), I sell greetings cards featuring the individual pictures, and home-produced prints with either nine or twelve of the pictures, in my Etsy shop and on Facebook Marketplace.

(Another) Four Quartets #poem

Quartet No.1 in C Major
I. Exceptional (maestoso ridicolo)
II. Growing (allegro vivamente)
III. Discovering (allegro con abbandono)
IV. Fearful (moderato sostenuto)

Quartet No. 2 in E Major
I. Interested (scherzo giocoso)
II. Hopeful (andante sognando)
III. Exploring (allegro impetuoso)
IV. Indecisive (adagietto dissonante)

Quartet No. 3 in A flat minor
I. Struggling (largamente melancolico)
II. Puzzled (andante misterioso)
III. Frustrated (allegro incalzando)
IV. Trying (allegro spiritoso)

Quartet No. 4 in D sharp minor
I. Disappointed (andante con dolore)
II. Angry (allegro furioso)
III. Overwhelmed (andate lacrimoso)
IV. Capitulated (largo perdendosi)

(c) Tim O’Hare, January 2024

About this poem: Over the last couple of days I have felt a growing sense of inner doom and then today I woke to find myself the recipient of another visit from The Hollow Man. The result was that despite having a mountain of work things to do I found myself stealing time to construct this poem. It started out as a list of words chosen to express something of the way I was seeing different stages of my life and then as these settled naturally into four groups of four I could not resist the reference to T.S. Eliot and the idea of representing the list as a set of musical works complete with accompanying musical terms for tempo and associated emotion. Perhaps it is all a little dark and almost certainly it is a lot contrived but writing this poem seems to have done its job and I can now start to move on again.

[The photo shows my ‘cello which suffered a broken tail gut leading to its bridge and sound post (internal) collapsing, shortly before the poem was written. It felt like an appropriate accompaniment to the poem…]

Exmoor Paintings #art

As described in the posts Quantock Paintings – Part 1 and Quantock Paintings – Part 2, our summer holiday in 2025 was a multi-part affair. A short stay at Crowcombe on the Quantock Hills in June was followed a month later, by a few days a little further west in an AirBnB in Malmsmead, Exmoor. Malmsmead is a location that is well known for being at the head of the so-called ‘Doone Valley’, which is an interesting example of a landscape feature that (now) takes its name from a work of fiction, R.D. Blackmore’s 1869 tale of romance and villainy: ‘Lorna Doone’. However, despite having made many trips to Exmoor over the years, it wasn’t somewhere that I had explored much before.

In Exmoor we were fortunate to be blessed with generally fine and warm weather, and were able to complete several great walks, including, naturally enough, one that took us all the way up the Doone Valley and west over open moorland, before returning north, with great views (see below) towards the Bristol Channel, via the village of Brendon and a nice drop of Exmoor Ale in The Staghunters Inn.

Our accommodation was only a 15 minute walk from the village of Oare, and so we also visited Oare Church, where (in the story) Lorna Doone was shot through a window by the evil, jilted Carver Doone as she stood to marry John Ridd. [Spoiler alert: Lorna survives, and John chases Carver Doone across the moor and watches him sink slowly to his death in a boggy mire, and they all (well all but Carver of course) live happily every after.]

We also completed a walk from Malmsmead towards the coast on what was perhaps the hottest afternoon of the year. This made the walk rather tough going, and this was not helped by the fact that the warm weather seemed to encourage what seemed to be every fly in the entire region to nip and nibble at me along the way.

In between the walks, I found time for some painting of course, producing the various pictures that illustrate this post. The final painting I produced whilst away was of the view across Porlock Bay, where we had walked on the first day of our holiday, from Bossington Hill. As it’s a sunset view, it seems like a good picture to use to draw this post to a close…

Trees #art

When I started painting in April 2024 I concentrated mostly on painting buildings or landscapes in which any significant living elements such as trees, animals or people were sufficiently distant that I didn’t have to worry too much about their details. After a while, as I discovered my natural style and approach to painting and gained a bit more confidence in my ability, I began to try putting more detail into my work. In the case of trees, I found that if I slowed myself down, and really paid attention to what I was doing, the results of my efforts were not at all bad. (Sadly, whilst I have had some success more recently painting birds and animals, the same still cannot be said about my horrific attempts at incorporating people into my artworks…)

The set of twelve pictures above, a set that I refer to as my Trees series, were painted between June and November 2025, and ended up being the fifth series of miniature watercolour paintings that I produced. Most of the these series were been produced over a much shorter period of time, typically no more than 2-3 weeks, but with these tree pictures I didn’t set out to generate a full set of twelve pictures, they just emerged gradually, in between all of my other painting efforts. Each picture is a 9cm square, a little larger than most of my miniature series paintings (which are typically ~5cm square), and for this reason, I’ve been able to print larger 16cm versions from the originals, that look really smart in a frame, without suffering from resolution issues.

In most cases, I painted these trees from photographs that I had taken at some point, and so I know (roughly) where most of the trees are. However, there are a few that were based on photos from internet searches, and unfortunately I’ve lost track of the details of those ones – keeping track of these kinds of details is something that I still need to get better at. Working from top-left, across and down the grid of twelve pictures, the pictures show:

a large tree on the main ridge of the Quantock Hills, above Crowcombe in Somerset, with huge roots that formed a window to frame the view beyond
twisted branches and autumn leaves (location unknown)
a lone conifer on the southwestern edge of Dartmoor, somewhere on Harrower Common near Yelverton, Devon
a view looking back along the cycle path between Clearbrook and Yelverton
a lone tree of a type that I like to refer to as a ‘symmetree’ in a slight hollow, again on the main ridge of the Quantock Hills above Crowcombe
my favourite row of beech trees below Peek Hill next to the main road from Yelverton to Princetown, Dartmoor
beech tree trunks near Grassington in Wharfedale, Yorkshire
a typically-windswept tree on Dartmoor
a muddy track through some conifer woodland (location unknown)
a lone holly tree on Roborough Down
a view through a group of pine trees, across the Yealm Estuary from the coast path between Wembury and Warren Point in South Devon
a spectacular autumnal, orange-leafed tree in the gardens of Cotehele House (or it might be in the Lost Gardens of Heligan)

Although they are quite simple, some of these tree pictures – the Peek Hill beech trees, the Yorkshire beech tree trunks, and the pine trees near Warren Point – are amongst my personal favourites of all of the pictures I have painted so far. I’ve listed prints of these pictures (composite prints of all twelve and a smaller square version with nine pictures) and greetings cards featuring individual pictures for sale on Facebook Marketplace and in my Etsy shop, but perhaps unsurprisingly, given the chances that anyone putting ‘tree painting’ into their internet search engine will be directed to my tree paintings rather than any of the hundreds if not thousands of alternatives available, I’ve not had any sales so far. But a family friend was so taken with these pictures that she bought a set of four framed prints of her favourite individual trees as a present for a friend and then came back and bought another set for her nephew! It’s nice to know that there is at least one other person out there who also likes these pictures!

Foundations #poem

Do not start at the top
With no foundations
For another shattered dream
Built in a rush
One of many
Born from a momentary spark
To lie in tatters
As it tumbled down
During a hurried build
When mistakes were made
And no-one saw

The monument to creativity.

All can see
The fruits of careful labour
With no mistakes made
BLOCK after BLOCK after BLOCK
Then BLOCK after BLOCK after BLOCK.
BLOCK after BLOCK after BLOCK
Then BLOCK after BLOCK after BLOCK.
BLOCK after BLOCK after BLOCK
In even layers
With staggered joints
Placed with special attention
Positioned just so
The slab sitting level
The piles well bedded
With strong foundations
Start at the bottom and work upwards

(c) Tim O’Hare, December 2023

About this poem: This is another poem that took shape in my head while I was out for a run. It is inspired, at least in part, by the film ‘Locke’ that I watched a few years ago and has stayed with me ever since. The film follows a single character Locke (played by the actor Tom Hardy) as he drives home from work – a building site – the night before a huge delivery of concrete that will form the foundations of the building. Months of planning and preparation have gone into getting the build to this stage and it is Locke’s job to oversee the complex process of the concrete pour. The story takes place almost entirely within Locke’s car and consists of a series of telephone conversations during which events unfold that leave all of his best laid plans in tatters. For while he was focusing all of his attention on getting the foundations of the building right, he neglected to consider those that underpinned his life. It’s a great film and one I often recommend whenever a conversation turns towards the subject of foundations.

Quantock Paintings – Part 2 #art

Following on from my previous art post (Quantock Paintings – Part 1), here are a few more of the paintings that I did during, or shortly after returning home from, our short break in Crowcombe, at the foot of the Quantock Hills in Somerset, last June.

First, here are a couple of pictures depicting views from walks that we did. Both are in my ‘normal’ style, a simple ink pen sketch with the watercolours added on top. I think that I have a tendency to try to put a lot of detail into my drawings (at least until I get bored and start scribbling in trees and foliage), but I am conscious that with painting it is often a case of ‘less is more’. In these two pictures I think that I managed to hold myself in check and kept the drawings fairly simple and ‘loose’. The pictures show Crowcombe Church and a view of the coastline at East Quantoxhead…

View of East Quantoxhead (with a bit of an issue on the right-hand edge!)

Next, I’ve included the results of an attempt to play with a slightly different approach, eschewing entirely the use of an ink pen to create a base sketch, and instead, going straight for the watercolour paints. I think that in many people’s minds, traditional (true?) watercolour paintings use only paints, generally placing these on a much wetter surface than I use, but I’ve not had any artistic training whatsoever so that’s not how my work has evolved. This picture shows a view from another of the walks that we did, looking west towards Minehead across hedge-lined fields with a riot of wildflowers in the foreground…

Somerset Fields with Wildflowers (no ink)

The vast majority of my paintings are of landscapes in one form or another. This is partly because I like landscapes, but also partly because whilst I might be able to make a decent fist of painting trees, fields, hills and buildings etc., I’m pretty much hopeless at drawing and painting people and animals. So, the picture below is a little unusual because it features me, standing at a gate looking east from the main ridge of the Quantock Hills. I like this picture because it is a bit quirky, with some nice ‘busy’ trees, but I don’t think it does anything to improve my reputation as a painter of people!

Finally, it’s become a tradition now that I paint a picture showing whatever accommodation we have stayed in when we are away, which we then leave behind as a thank you to the owner of the accommodation. In this case, we were staying in a delightful little Shepherd’s Hut, with a sunset view towards Exmoor. Now, for me to describe a Shepherd’s Hut as ‘delightful’ is something of a miracle, but although the picture doesn’t capture the view, I think it does capture something of the charm of the place.

I’ve written this post almost exactly one year on from our stay in Crowcombe, and it’s been nice to look back on these pictures and be reminded of a really pleasant few days in a quiet and beautiful part of the world.

A Whole Life – Robert Seethaler #reading

I read Robert Seethaler’s novel A Whole Life last summer, after it was recommended to me by a student that I teach (a recommendation that shows a remarkable level of insight from someone who doesn’t really know me or much about my life at all). Published in 2015, and shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize in 2016, A Whole Life is, on the face of it, a simple story, recounting the life of Andreas Egger – a life that plays out almost entirely in a single valley in the Austrian Alps. It’s one of those stories within which nothing much happens and yet, in a strange way, everything happens; and everything that does happen has a significance and depth that gets right the heart of what it is to live.

Andreas Egger is born between the two world wars and arriving in the valley as a young boy is taken in by a farming family. Somewhat surprisingly, given his rather gruff and lone manner, he falls in love and marries, but the promise of a happy life shattered by when an avalanche strikes his home. He leaves to fight in the Second World War, is taken prisoner and eventually returns home only to find that a rush of development has spread its tentacles into the remote terrain of his world. He does what he needs to do, and works as an engineer building and maintaining the cable cars that have come to the area as skiing begins to grow into the modern tourism industry it is today.

Egger’s life has moments of brightness, or perhaps it is better to say that it promises moments of brightness, but the overall tone of the book is somewhat bleak and foreboding from the outset. Egger makes it through to the ripe old age of almost eighty, but throughout his life it is clear that he is always an outsider, never really integrated into the close community, never fully adjusting to the ever-changing world around him, and never being able to fully experience the loving relationships that at one point seemed to lie ahead for him.

I really enjoyed reading A Whole Life. Seethaler’s writing is precise and unfussy and through his words, it felt like an honour that Egger was sharing his existence, his whole life, with me. There were a couple of passages that stood out for me, to the extent that I grabbed hold of them as I read. The first (page 112 in my edition) captures something of Egger’s quiet, contemplative quality:

Egger didn’t usually speak on his walk. ‘When someone opens their mouth they close their ears,’ Thomas Mattl had always said, and Egger was of the same opinion.

and the second nicely illustrates the kind of philosophy that Egger absorbed by keeping his mouth shut and his ears open, in this case from a fellow inmate in a Russian prison camp:

If you’re on the way to Hell, he’d say, you have to laugh with the devils: it costs nothing, and makes the whole thing more bearable.

I don’t think it would be a bad thing to embrace some of Egger’s calm, just-get-on-with-it, approach to life. And whether I’m on the way to Hell, Heaven, or (more likely) somewhere in between, it surely does make sense to laugh with whoever you are travelling alongside.

How I killed my blog post writing streak #other

Last year, despite not really knowing why (i.e. who I was writing for other than for myself) I decided to make a concerted effort to get into the habit of writing posts for this website on a reasonably frequent basis. By reasonably frequent I was hoping to add three or four entries each week or, to borrow a phrase from the writer Oliver Burkeman, dailyish.

After a fairly slow start (four new entries in January 2025), I picked up momentum and went on to add eight in February, twelve in March, thirteen in April, seven in May, eleven in June, eight in July, and another eight August. Okay, I wasn’t hitting an average of three or four entries per week, but with five separate weeks during which I wrote no entries at all (in January, February, March, April and July) and a five week hiatus with zero entries between mid-May and mid-June, I had managed to write 71 entries in the 23 weeks in which I did produce some new words, giving me an average of just over three entries per week in those ‘productive’ weeks.

During this time period, my blog posts were split between six categories – 24 relating to my Art, 24 about books that I had read, 18 that featured my poems (transferring these across from my poetry website andapoet.blog), five about my writing, three that I described as ‘Wisdom’ and a couple that were ‘Miscellaneous’.

I was generally pleased with how I was doing, and the progress I was making. I had generated a list of topics for future posts – about the art I created, the books I had read, poems I had to add to the site, snippets about my writing, walks that I could describe etc. – which gave me no shortage of future material. Having this list ought to have been positive, indeed it was positive during the first eight months of the year. My progress continued into September, as I added another five entries in the first twelve days of the month. But then I stopped writing completely, my last entry being on 12th September 2025, some 279 days ago… a long time… over three-quarters of a year…

What changed? Did I just get bored? Did I get distracted? Did I decide that since pretty much no-one reads what I write here there simply wasn’t any point in my continuing? It’s possible that the latter was a contributing factor. It’s certainly one that has led me to question my blog writing activity before (for example see Habits, Daily Blogging… Is This The End? ), but no, those answers are not the answer…

My blog writing activity died off because I innocently did the one thing that is pretty much guaranteed to stop me doing any activity I am engaged in, or want to be engaged in. I turned a thing into a THING. This is something that I have written about on this website before, back in 2018 in fact – see: Turning Things Into THINGS. It is one of the primary ways that I sabotage my own desire to tackle an activity. Turning a thing into a THING involves taking what could be a simple, interesting, enjoyable activity, and ambitiously growing it in my mind by adding extra elements (‘bells-and-whistles’) so that it becomes a huge, enormously complicated, and/or daunting challenge that my brain then looks at and says “no thank you very much – that looks like a project that is far too difficult, and potentially painful, for me to take on”.

In the case of this blog, turning a thing into a THING took the following form. In early September 2025 I sat down, looked at my carefully curated and categorised list of potential blog post topics and decided that it would be really great to accelerate my writing so that I was fully ‘caught up’ by the end of November 2025. This was a 10 week period and I had 61 possible blog post topics on my list (many about books that I had read during the previous few months). 61 posts in 10 weeks? ~6 posts per week? That’s only one per day, with a day spare each week… sounds perfectly doable doesn’t it?

Well no, it doesn’t, or at least it shouldn’t have, but what did my brain have to say about the idea? I can tell you. In a journal entry that I wrote on Saturday 13th September I wrote the words ‘… it’s a good plan and I can try to get into a good discipline of writing daily posts on weekdays and adding one or two at the weekends if I can or if I have missed weekday posts‘. It all sounds so simple… [I’ll also note here that my had a multi-week sequence that rotated through the different categories of the possible posts in such a way that they were all nicely spread out through the entire period. If that sounds a bit over-the-top then temember, my plan wasn’t a ‘thing’, it was a ‘THING’.]

If I had set my stall out to simply to carry on writing the odd blog post when I had the chance – perhaps two or three in a good week – then it would have been an activity, a thing, that would have stood a decent chance of getting done. Instead, I turned the thing into a THING and, in the process, killed the activity entirely. To make matters worse, not only have I added nothing to this site for the best part of nine months, but during those months I have frequently berated myself for, and felt disappointed with, my lack of action. I killed off an activity I enjoyed, and I gave myself a new stick to beat myself with. Bravo!

On countless occasions over the last few months I have thought about how I might get back to writing for this blog. Mostly, my thoughts have revolved around trying to come up with new ways that I can somehow, magically, catch up with my post backlog. You see, the perfectionist/completist/collector in me hates the idea that I might not write an entry for every book that I have read, every piece of artwork I produce etc. It quickly rules out the simplest approach, which is to just start adding entries again relating to what I am up to at the moment. An incomplete sequence? A gap? No, no, NO… you cannot possibly have a gap.

But I have fought with myself for long enough, and I recognise that the choice is a simple one. I can think that I can somehow catch up and be destined to remain stuck forever (or at least far behind where I’d like to be), or I can just write something and be done with it. And somehow, unusually for me, the second of these options seems, finally, to have come out on top.

So, here I am again, back on the blog. I’d like to think that I will be able to write new posts on a reasonably frequent basis – two or three a week would be great, one or two would be okay – and I’m going to try to allow myself to write a mix of posts, some relating to ‘now things’ and others picking selected topics from the list that I created previously without requiring myself to cover them all, or to ‘catch up’ within any specific time frame or better still, ever.

Will I be successful? Well I’m not even going to try to second guess the answer to that question. To do so will surely only lead to me into making another marvellous plan in an attempt to ensure success, a marvellous plan that will actually, almost certainly, guarantee failure!

What If? So what? #poem

Sometimes I find that I cannot move forwards
to follow the path that I want to take.
The gears whirr noisily inside my head,
and The Controller shouts
“STOP. What If?”,
“STOP, What If?”,
again and again,
at the top of his voice.

Racked by doubt and paralysed by fear, I
find that I have lost my will
to continue, and so I grind to a halt – frustrated, cross,
until stillness descends, and I remember that
however wide or deep the chasm, I can build a bridge
that even only spanning imagination, offers a moment when
a step can be taken. Then, slowly, I
can make progress once more, to come
closer to where I want to go. And I and am able to
scream at the top of my voice: “So What? To hell with it.”

WHAT IF? SO WHAT?: This poem came quickly. I was writing in my morning journal about how I had not found any time for poetry writing for several months, and starting to wonder whether perhaps this might be an indication that my well of inspiration had run dry. At the same time, I was thinking about the value of just putting my poems ‘out there’ without any expectation that they might ‘land’. Suddenly, I found that I was writing again, and this poem emerged. I wasn’t sure what to give it as a title but settled on What If? So What? based on a phrase that I vaguely remember hearing the singer Tom Jones use in an interview years ago – something along the lines that “we must always try to turn ‘what ifs?’ into ‘so whats?’”. Don’t miss the hidden message in the second verse…!