Petre Mais
Stuart Petre Brodie "SPB" Mais (1885–1975) was a prolific British author, journalist and broadcaster. The son of a Bristol rector, he was born in Birmingham but raised in Tansley, Derbyshire, where his family moved shortly afterwards.
He was educated at Denstone College, Staffordshire. After graduating in English Literature at Christ Church, Oxford, and then teaching at Rossall, Sherborne and Tonbridge, Mais later worked for National Press at Fleet Street. A prolific author writing over 200 books, he also broadcast for numerous wireless programmes for the BBC between the 1920s and 1940s. He was married once: to Doris Snow; the couple had two daughters: Priscilla (1916-1982) and Vivien (born 1920). After that marriage was dissolved (they did not get divorced), he got together with Jill Doughty (who was considerably younger). S.P.B. (who preferred to be called Petre), was an ardent campaigner for the English countryside and traditions, leading walks for people who came for a day trip by train from big cities, often from London. He began to broadcast a "Letter from America" in 1933, a ground breaking venture at the time.
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Visions Of Joy
by: Beauty RoomBreak down the door and you stop and stare
Man, and you feel like you walked in on an open plane
Watching the world with all its magic, and the colours
and the tragic visions of joy
Break down the door and you stop and stare
Man, and you feel like you walked in on an open plane
Watching the world with all its magic, and the colours
and the tragic visions of joy
Sometimes you’ll try to tear off your disguise, revealing something new.
the image you once loved, the lies you thought you knew.
Maybe you’ll realise one day that
everything you know is a replica of gold.
All you’ve ever known are shadows in the cave, shadows in the cave
Break down the door and you stop and stare
Man, and you feel like you walked in on an open plane
Watching the world with all its magic, and the colours
and the tragic visions of joy
Break down the door and you stop and stare
Man, and you feel like you walked in on an open plane
Watching the world with all its magic, and the colours
and the tragic visions of joy
fortune betrays your position.
Leads you down the road, the never ending road.
The image you once loved, fades and leaves you cold.
You reach out for something real,
The trust you once knew, is just an illusion.
All you’ve ever known, riding the waves, drifting on the sea.
Break down the door and you stop and stare
Man, and you feel like you walked in on an open plane
Watching the world with all its magic, and the colours
and the tragic visions of joy
Break down the door and you stop and stare
Man, and you feel like you walked in on an open plane
Watching the world with all its magic, and the colours