Ramsons

Col spent Sunday in the Downland, detecting with the lads, and he came across and photographed this woodland full of wild garlic.  Love it.  It reminds me of walks in Froggatt in the years we lived in the North. And also that my granny lived in Ramsbottom - a name that has nothing to do with sheep (or their rear ends), but actually means "the valley of wild garlic", ramsons being the name for wild garlic.

Our C.O. returned on Sunday to give us the talks he was not able to give on his visiting week.  

The first was:  Will You Take Your Stand for Pure Worship?   We were looking at how difficult this has  been since the loss of Eden. And we looked at the Biblical account of the time when King Ahab, a King of the northern kingdom of Israel, married Jezebel, a worshipper of Baal, and how they then promoted Baal worship in Israel until:

E·liʹjah then said to the people: “I am the only prophet of Jehovah left, while the prophets of Baʹal are 450 men. - 1 Kings 18:22

The account in Kings shows how Jehovah showed, conclusively, that he was the true God.  And also that Elijah was not alone, there was still a faithful remnant.

The second talk was about how we must cherish spiritual things, such as the truth we have, the privilege of prayer, the congregation, and above all our relationship with our Creator, Jehovah.  It included a very touching experience, but we first looked at the Biblical examples of Jacob and Esau, and how the first, Jacob, treasured and valued spiritual things, and how the second, sadly, did not.  He did change later and regret his action though, but by then he had given away his birthright.

And the Speaker pointed out that the names Jehovah then gave to these two men reflected their appreciation, or lack of it, for their Grand Creator and his purpose.

So the question the Speaker asked us to consider, is "What name would Jehovah give me?"   Which certainly gives me a lot of pause for thought.  I did conduct a Bible study this week, and have got some not home letters done, to give to the pioneers.  Plus I have some more flats to write to.  But I seem to have spent so much time dozing on the sofa, that I worry if my name might be Couch Potato.

It is interesting that the name Jehovah gave to Jacob, namely Israel means Contender (Perseverer) With God, or, God Contends, because Jacob put up a hard fight for the faith.

And I will say this.  It is not easy to become a Jehovah's Witness - we all have a struggle. And it is not so easy to remain one.  Nothing would be easier than to just drift away, caught up in the currents of our own selfish inclinations and the strong currents of "the world".

So hopefully God will see us all as putting up a fight for the faith. And I can only say from my own experience, how rewarding it is to do so. We were made to draw close to our Creator and let him direct and mould us, so nothing makes us happier - even as things are now.

Gloater's Shoulder

If Captain Butterfly keeps on beating me in our morning Ordling competition (Wordle/Quordle/Octordle) there may well be a new condition hitting the tabloid headlines for us to worry about, namely Gloaters Shoulder (Gloaters Humero, to give it its Latin name).  It will be caused by too much triumphant punching of the air. 

Who is supposed to be the wordsmith in this marriage?!  See the picture of Waiting for Gordo above. 

You will note - by the way - that Gordo is NOT - according to its front cover - a New York Times Bestseller, unlike every other book ever published these days.  True, but what a lovely cover the publisher gave me.

If he - my young publisher - was rich and powerful enough to get it into the Airport bookshops, I think that the cover alone would make it sell like hotcakes.  And then I too would have been a New York Times Bestseller.

However, I am very grateful to be published.  Very grateful.

Col and I also compete at Countdown every afternoon - well, we record it and have it with our supper. But he is rather distracted by the lovely Rachel, so I do have a bit of a head start there.

'Our balcony is flourishing and I must get Col to photograph it for me.  I have one of those photographing phones myself, but it is no use me trying unless anyone wants yet another photograph of me looking especially gormless saying: "How do you do this?!"

Col had his usual Saturday and Sunday metal-detecting. And he took some photos of wild garlic that I have recruited for my next blog.  I attended the Zoom funeral/memorial on Saturday afternoon.  It was a lovely tribute to our sister and included a reminder of the hope of the resurrection, the time when she will be woken from the dreamless sleep of death and see this lovely earth again. And I zoomed to the Kingdom Hall on Sunday.

I am sleeping a bit more now, but not nearly enough, and feel very very tired.  But I am so grateful the pain has subsided enough that I can get at least some sleep.

Getting old is a painful business.  But it was never meant to be like this.  And am I really that old?  I haven't yet had eighty springs - though I am pretty close.  I cannot tell you how quickly it has gone.

MAY

We chose this moth for our May calendar picture.  The moths are returning now, so hopefully Col will get some more great photos.  This lovely creature is a cistus forester.

I have mentioned the strange poem MAY by Karen Volkman in my blog before, but it seems more appropriate as the years go by. It is the contrast between may's "gaud gown", its fresh and shining beauty, and what is happening in the world - and what is happening to me - "a colder thing" indeed. It is a poem in which the language is so alive.  It begins:

In May’s gaud gown and ruby reckoning 

the old saw wind repeats a colder thing...

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/55530/may-56d2373a7826d

We, a sister and myself, drove through a lovely spring morning on the last day of April - fresh green leaves and blossom lining the roads, a cloudless blue sky above. We were heading, appropriately really, to the flower lady to conduct her Bible study.  It did go well, and she was also able to show her pretty wedding album to a fresh set of eyes.

She had such a good husband. I only knew him in his latter years, as a very sick man, pretty silent on a chair. He was a call of Jean's in the days when we used to do magazine route calls.  He was a well-read and intelligent man and so he did appreciate the Watchtower and the Awake.  An immense amount of research goes into them.

Captain Butterfly is being well looked after by my congregation sisters at the moment - he got some delicious coffee cake last week baked by one sister - researched by Himself to the last crumb and pronounced delicious - and then a home-baked sourdough loaf from another sister, who came running after us as we left the Kingdom Hall to deliver it, still warm.

We had it with butter and honey (and some seeds too in my case) as soon as we got back  And, WOW!  Yummy. We both had to exercise a lot of self-control to take ourselves to bed without polishing the lot off.  It will reappear as hot buttered toast to have with our lunchtime veggie/lentil soup.

And I did actually manage to get some sleep on Thursday night - woke up in a lot of pain come the early morning, but did get some sleep. And what a difference that makes.

I found an email from an old school friend awaiting me, asking I had some time to talk, via email. I have emailed her back - at least I hope I have - my email is doing some odd things today. I hope I haven't picked up one of those bug thingummies.

Apparently my fb has also been hacked in that someone i have never heard of has just got a friend request from me.  Why do some people put so much energy into destructive things when  there are so many wonderful things to do?

I did get some sleep last night too, but it was full of anxiety dreams - one of them being missing the Zoom funeral I am to attend in Zoom this afternoon. 

Hopefully that dream will not come true.

The Bluebell Woods

The Captain's marshalling work took him into the bluebell woods, and this is a photograph he took for me.  I can't walk in them myself any more, nor can Jackie, who used to be our Bluebell Walk companion.

I am wondering about us doing a flower calendar for next year, IF we are both still around - and IF the current system of things in still up and running.

We are in for some very very big changes on the earth.  And how splendid will the bluebell woods be then? Plus, we will all be able to walk happily and safely in them.

I feel another poem coming on:  Would you walk/in bluebell woods/for sure I would/if I only could  - but maybe not.  There would have to be some kind of reason for it, beyond my not being able to walk much at the moment.

What would John Betjeman and Philip Larkin have made of it?  Something wonderful for sure. And if only I could work that out I would have a brilliant poem.

I managed to get through Sunday night without any painkillers - a first for this year - but then I dreamt that I was stranded at the top of Everest, unable to climb down.  Fortunately there was a visitors centre up there, with people around, but to get off Everest you had a tricky climb UP.  It didn't in the dream occur to me that when you are at the top of Everest you are at the top of the world. The only way is down.  And you just have to concentrate on not coming down too quick.  Nor did it occur to me that the Visitors Centre, complete with loo, cafe and gift shop was odd either.

But I was just starting to wonder how on earth I had got myself up there in the first place when I woke up to find I was safe in my own bed, with Captain Butterfly in the kitchen flying the coffee machine.

This morning I have to conduct my Bible study with the flower lady.  We are talking about how to get the best out of studying the Bible today.

Showing my Workings

I am trying to see if I can write a small poem about the two earliest memories I have - two windows in time that opened.  They are ones I have probably mentioned before in my blog.  The earliest is a moment on Hampstead Heath with my young father, by the Pond. I must have been about three years old. And the second was when I was about 4 years old, in Sheffield, playing shop with a little friend in her garden of soot-blackened stones.

Its not that I remember them now, but I remember remembering them over the years, if that make sense.  I don't know why a window suddenly opens on Hampstead Heath and stays with me.  But the reason I remember the blossom moment is that seeing the blossom on stone, and being surrounded by blossom, in the lovely May garden filled me full of a sudden and unexpected joy.  Though it took me some decades to find out why I had felt that joy in that soot blackened spring garden. I believe it was a reminder of Eden, of the paradise garden our first parents so tragically lost.

And its a joy that I hope lies ahead of all of us, right here on the earth - a joy that will go on forever.

Anyway, I would like to try and pin the moments down in a poem as best I can and I thought I would show my workings.  It began as this, and continues to the finished version:

May was the blossom

on blackened stone

shining in steel city

we played shops

with all that the Spring garden had provided

It shone in steel city

the blossom on blackened stone

lifting my heart

a glimpse of paradise

while we played shops with all that May provided

earlier another window in time opens

the Pond at Hampstead Heath

my young father holds my hands

as we watch the Pond yachts.

Shining white in Steel city 

on blackened stone

blossom lifted my heart

while we played shops

with all that Spring had grown

too young to know this was a glimpse of lost paradise

pond yachts on the Heath

stay with me too

and my father's hand in mine

And I think this one is the finished version, as close as I can get:

Two Windows in Time

by me

Shining white in Steel city

on blackened stone

the blossom lifted my heart

while we played shop

with all that Spring had grown.

An earlier window opens

on Hampstead Heath

my father - so young -

holds my hand while

pond yachts sail along.

Of course, there is a better version of this in the ether somewhere, but this is the best I can do.

While Captain Butterfly has resigned from his volunteer work for Sussex Search and Rescue, after years of service, he has not resigned from fund-raising for them, so he left very early, with his usual sandwich lunch, to do some marshalling, for which SUSSAR will get paid.

I plan to attend the meeting at the Kingdom Hall in pixel form, via Zoom. But I am at least back in person at the Thursday night meeting, as Col is there to help me get dressed and chauffeur me.

I am wondering whether to get out on the balcony for half an hour of sunshine and finish my Watchtower study out there.  It turns out that what i have been identifying as Thrift on the balcony is something else.  I have forgotten its name, but it would explain why it kept flowering all through the Winter which no balcony Thrift has done before.

The Pleasures of Friendship

The Pleasures of Friendship
by Stevie Smith

The pleasures of friendship are exquisite,
How pleasant to go to a friend on a visit!

I go to my friend, we walk on the grass,
And the hours and moments like minutes pass.

I was thinking about the friends I have lost.  I guess all of us who are well past our sell-by date have lost family and friends - even me, an introverted Aspergery person.

I don't seem to have any photos of my lost friends, so I have headed this blog with a Ken Reah painting of Endcliffe Vale Park, a park from my childhood - a park  I have walked through with family, friends and dogs for most of my life.

I went there at lunch hours in the Sixth form with Barbara and Elizabeth.  And that was a long long time ago.  They are both still with us, as far as I know.  Elizabeth lives across the water on the Isle of Wight and we exchange letters/cards at Christmas.

Janie, a best friend from my childhood, the best friend of my young teenage years - she lived next door - died some years ago.  And Ann Marie, the best best friend of my expat years died before we retired.  I would have loved to share my books with her, as she shared her pottery with me.  And Diana with whom I shared a flat, well a room really, in my Uni years, died before we retired.  We are still in touch with her husband Pete.

How long can I go creaking on?

Anyway, on the topic of friendship,it looks like we will be having a small reunion of friends from Planet Expat, as a couple of them are over from the USA for this year's Company reunion.  We have asked if they would like to come for lunch.  I am looking forward to it.  And we also heard from our Thai friend in Bangkok.   That has got me thinking of old student times in Jesmond, and my first experiences of Thai food - which I love to this day - and also of our visits to Bangkok in our travelling years.

And right on time to be mentioned in this blog, an old facebook friend, Milton D, has just got in touch. I found his email in the Spam section - along with one from my bro.

And I have no idea why Google suddenly spammed them

If we all "inherit the earth", and live forever upon it, how will it feel having a thousand years of memories, ten thousand years - and all happy ones, no sadness, no bitter regrets?

And I must note that neither Milton D nor my brother believes this, but I hope they won't mind my hoping this for them.

In the Dark Fastness of Lobbs Wood

The bluebells are out in Lobbs Wood - a lovely walk for all who dare to enter its dark fastness.  You wouldn't have to be daring for too long though, as it's only about a dozen steps from one side to another.

It's quite a survival really - especially given that a fortune could be made by putting a block of flats on it.

Col is back to the metal detecting, so all seems to be going well, medically speaking.  His alarm clock went off at about 5 a.m. on Saturday morning - in other words, situation back to normal.

I don't know what to say about the News, about what is going on in the world, as the tragedies continue.  When Satan told our first parents that they did not need to accept and obey their Creator's moral laws, he lied to them. It is as simple as that.  Tragedy ensued, and will until God's Kingdom comes.

On Sunday morning I looked out over a calm blue grey Channel - grey in the foreground, blue at the horizon, under a mild grey overcast sky.  It was a symphony in grey and green.  It reminded me of how lovingly Jehovah made this earth for us, and reassured me of the paradise earth to come.  

The Captain left very early, for the usual reasons, while I made it to the meeting via Zoom - only just though, as I was in quite a lot of pain during the night and felt very very tired.

Another bad night, though having said that I didn't actually get up to take my painkillers till 5:00 - often it is about 1:30.  I had one Zoom session this morning with a friend and am about to pixel into my next one.  Not sure that Nute will make it though, as she has a work commitment today.

Three of us made it, and hopefully we will be back to the usual four next week.