Saturday, 18 May 2019

My Hot Water Bottle

My hot water bottle is being a good friend at the moment. Even though I am wearing a woolly cardigan with a fur (fake!!) collar, I am clutching it to me.   I am still full of a cold - will have to miss the wedding today- can't go and cough and sneeze all over everyone during the service - and will certainly miss Haysbridge tomorrow.  Though I thought I would miss it anyway as we were supposed to be 'oop North this week.

I will have to venture out to get some more meds and some more berries (Vitamin C) this morning though.  Himself is off metal detectorising.  He has found his first gold coin this week!

Maybe today it will be him who finds the legendary lost hot water bottle of solid gold, blinging with jewels, that belonged to King Canute himself, and comforted him  - or scalded him? - through many a cold.

Such a sad sad item in the news today - among many sad items.  A shoal of dead sharks has washed up on a British beech, and it looks as if they might be the victims of finning - fins taken, left to die.

https://inews.co.uk/news/uk/sharks-washed-up-on-beach-wales-burry-port-fins-cut-off/?utm_source=fb&utm_medium=fb&utm_campaign=jp_reshare&fbclid=IwAR28WqYqJbHqt

I hope this is not so...  because while I know shark finning (for the soup) still happens, I had hoped it was dying out (before all the sharks did), not spreading to our shores.

Thank God for Jehovah's promise that he will not let his lovely earth be ruined by the greed and violence of some men.

Tuesday, 14 May 2019

The Innocent face of the Slow-worm

Had a small outing yesterday- first one in days - Col had a delivery in Steyning, so we called in at Woodsmill after a lovely drive through the Sussex Spring, and went for a gentle walk to the lake, with swan.  I sat in the sun while Col took some photos - including the insensitive one below.  Always kneel!   I have no kneecaps (k)now, so how can I?   And can I sue for Emotional Trauma?


Red-and-black Froghopper, Cercopis vulnerata

Red Campions, Silene dioica

Slow-worm, Anguis fragilis


Col found the Slow-worm to show me, He held it out to me and we looked at each other.  It had the most lovely innocent Moomintroll face, so I told it how lovely it was.  (I am not sure what it was thinking. Possibly: Who is that ghastly old wrinkly? )

We were supposed to take such tender care of Jehovah's creation.

We stopped and shopped at Waitrose on the way back.   Including doing the usual shop for Jackie, who is no better

But sadly my cold still rules - woke up this morning coughing, sneezing, hoarse, feeling dreadful.  Even that tiny outing in the sun seems to have zapped me. 

Its probably because my arthritis meds work by lowering my immune system, so its hard for me to fight anything off.

I feel sad and bleak at the moment...  but I know its because I am physically very down.

Am spending a quiet warm day in, just trying to get rid of it.   I did so some studying and ironing this morning, but have no other achievements to record.

Sunday, 12 May 2019

The Family Tree

I am trying to sort through one file of paper a day now, so as not to leave too much of a muddle if and when - I am in the Death Zone, under the threescore years and ten rule - so it can only be a matter of time.    And while I was at it, a yellowing slip of paper fell on the floor.  It contained this poem, which I must have saved years ago, and will continue to keep.

The Family Tree
by William Plomer

The old camellia drops a red rosette
Down on the clean swept path again today
What is the meaning of the word "regret"
When so much grace accompanies decay?

The death of a Camellia is beautiful. And the litter it leaves on the paths and pavements is lovely and biodegradable.   

But our death and decay is not lovely.   It is painful, ugly and undignified.   And that is because we were not made to die. We were meant to live forever.

We had some very bad family news yesterday. A brother in law with cancer, who will not recover.
Its terminal.    A sad sad weekend.

Plus I feel terrible, absolutely full of a cold, my eyes hurt so that its hard to see.   Its been a bleak couple of days.

The Captain and I shared a packet of fish and chips last night, but without Jackie, who does not need to come round and get my cold.  And we had planned a week up North - starting Tuesday - a Metal Detecting week for the Captain, in which was going to discover the lost Treasure Chest of King Canute (if, that is, King Canute ever visited my Northern hometown and lost a Treasure Chest while doing so), and I was going to have a Writers Week.

But everything is on hold in the wake of this news.

I spoke to Lilian ex-planetExpat today. We had a long chat.. I am trying and trying to get her to go back to the meetings .  We need to be taught and guided among Jehovah's congregated people.

I have been thinking about Ken a lot.  We lived next door for many years.  In fact, he features in my poem "A Moral Dilemma".

I will ring Nute up tomorrow when, hopefully, I have my voice back.

Thursday, 9 May 2019

In which the Circuit Overseer gives his first Talk and I am struck down by a heavy cold

Cough cough sneeze sneeze. I feel dreadful.  And my eyes are so sore.  I'm having a job reading anything - so I hope this blog will make sense.

 It was quite a busy day yesterday.  I took Jacks to the doctors for her appointment - a long one - visited Maggie in the afternoon and shopped for Jacks too.  But by the evening I was not feeling at all well and rang up and cancelled my Field Service for this morning. Though, having said that, my partner rang to cancel anyway - family issues.

Today I plan to keep warm and keep hydrated and hope I am up to the busy Saturday that lies ahead.
Captain Moth-Butterfly was home for most of the day until called away mid afternoon on a SUSSAR rescue.
https://www.sussar.org.uk/website/

All volunteers and they have to raise their own funds.  Col did a talk this week that earned them some money.

I hope the gallant creature is OK out there.

We had a great meeting on Tuesday (our midweek meeting changes from Tuesday to Thursday during a Circuit Overseer visit).  It started with the Butterfly Talk.  The Damaged wings.   We too can fly, in the spiritual sense, despite all the damage we carry from the moment our first parents unplugged themselves from their Creator, their Source of life.   We can obey our Creator, or do our imperfect best to.  That is all Jehovah asks from us, to show him that we do love and respect his law and know that it is the best way of life.  He knows we cannot make ourselves perfect.  He will do that for us during the Thousand years, under the loving rule of the Kingdom of God.

And the C.O.Talk was very timely.  "No Weapon formed against you will have any Success".

And we watched a sad but inspiring video of our dear Russian brothers and sisters, who are being prosecuted under a Religious Terrorism Act...     I felt so sad to see armed, masked soldiers burst into the Kingdom Hall.  We are a peaceful people, and don't hurt or threaten anyone.
https://www.jw.org/en/news/jw/region/russia/arrest-detention-dennis-christensen/

And hopefully a lot of people are asking themselves why this is happening.  And maybe they will start to wake up, spiritually.

And to return to the title of the talk, Jehovah's Witnesses were persecuted by both sides in WW2.  German Witnesses were sent to the camps early,and wore the Purple Triangle. 

The Circuit Overseer remuuded us that, n 1939, just before the war broke out, there were 72,475 publishers of the good news of the Kingdom.    And in 1945, as the war ended, there were 156,290.

Jehovah has said in his inspired word that,just before this wicked system of things on the earth comes to its end, the good news of the Kingdom will be preached all over the inhabited earth.

And so it is being, just as God said.


Monday, 6 May 2019

The Feckless Mob

Another weekend has been and gone. And today is a Bank Holiday. Its sunny but is apparently going to be cold.  No problem for me (she said selfishly) and anyway one benefit of being old and retired is that you can stay home on a Bank Holiday.  Hurray!

I hope I shall have some achievements for the day, though all I feel like doing is going back to bed.  One thing I will have to do is to join the Feckless Mob at our one local shop that's open as I failed to go out and shop yesterday afternoon.  I came back after the meeting and, after I had done my chauffering duties, made lunch (the Captain was out with sandwiches and detector), I fell asleep on the sofa in front of the Snooker. 

I only want berries.  We have our usual veggie soup for lunch (already made) and a pizza for supper.

I had to join the mob last Bank Holiday too as I had forgotten to buy something.  Clearly I have a severe lack of feck.

Sad news from Sheffield.  My bro in law Ken is not at all well.   And he is not young. And not well enough for any kind of operation.

Every generation since disobedient Adam has gone through this - the losses of the ones we love and the loss of our own selves coming nearer as we slide faster and faster down the slippery slope.

What you don't realise when you are young, mercifully, is how short our lives are now.  They are gone before you know it.

And yet I am happy - and I appreciate the gift of life on this beautiful planet more and more.  And hope to be able to live on it forever.  It is an undeserved kindness, so we can all have hope.  The valiant Jean and I were out on Saturday trying to tell people about the Creator, Jehovah. We did return visits, and had a couple of very good calls. We now have to get on, and get back to them.

Jackie came round on Saturday, for Chicken Kiev (courtesy of Marks and Sparks) and new pots and veggies (courtesy of me).  We just had yoghurt to follow. And sympathised and laughed with each other about the rigours and indignities of old age.

Here is a poem.  One not written by me, but one I would love to have written.

On the Vanity of Earthly Greatness

                                                          by Arthur Guiterman (1871-1943)

The tusks that clashed in mighty brawls
Of mastodons, are billiard balls.

The sword of Charlemagne the Just
Is ferric oxide, known as rust.

The grizzly bear whose potent hug
Was feared by all, is now a rug.

Great Caesar’s bust is on my shelf,
And I don’t feel so well myself.

Thursday, 2 May 2019

Damaged Wings

It has just dawned on me that that "bench" Col and I ate our sandwiches on Tuesday might in fact have been a priceless and important work of art!    There was a Japanese lady sitting there drinking a coffee when we sat on it.  But perhaps she was part of the Installation?

Oh dear.  Lets hope there were no cameras around or we may find ourselves the subject of a Twitterstorm (whatever that is), and hot contenders for Philistines of the Month.

One of our Congregation elders has asked Captain Butterfly-Moth for a picture of a butterfly with damaged wings.  He needs it for a talk he is giving next week during the Circuit Overseer's visit.

This is not as distressing as it might sound.  Butterflies are a lot tougher than they look and can survive and thrive with quite severe wing damage.   Plus they are not under the compulsions to look perfect - to look buff/fit/hot - all those horrid words used to pressure us, especially the young and vulnerable.

And they look good whatever.

And and... there is going to be a most encouraging lesson for all us damaged children of disobedient Adam from these valiant butterflies with broken wings.

I hope to blog it next week - if I live that long - the aches and pains are not getting any less, whinge whinge.   Wednesday morning was spent at the hospital having x-rays of all my various arthritic joints. It was painful, but not thank Goodness, as painful as the Bone Scan.

Sometimes I feel like a one woman exocet missile aimed at the poor tottering NHS. Am I really worth all this time and money?  It makes me feel rather guilty.

Today I managed an hour on the preaching work - with some scary traffic dilemmas - which included two drives over the railway crossing.

Tuesday, 30 April 2019

The Lunch Bench (and No Mudlarking)

The Captain and I went up to London today to see the Van Gogh Exhibition at the Tate Britain.   The Thames was really high, so there were no mudlarking prospects to distract the Captain.  The trains were all on time - Clapham Junction - to Vauxhall -  then a walk across Vauxhall Bridge- and on to the Gallery.
We found a riverside bench en route (above) and had our sandwiches - marmite on wholemeal for me, cheese and chutney on wholemeal for him.
Great Exhibition. We came away with even more admiration for Van Gogh than we had before.  They had one of the Sunflower paintings, and had displayed it in a room full of flower paintings by other artists - some inspired by him.  Some lovely paintings, but the Van Gogh sunflowers stood head and shoulders.

He realised the sadness of our lives as they are now.  And clearly found it unbearable at times.And I hope he sleeps safe in "the everlasting arms"and has a wonderful awakening ahead of him.

What will he paint then?     The sadness will go out of his painting for sure.

Some sadness for me, in that I was thinking on the train that here we are, two elderly people, yet only yesterday (sort of) we were young marrieds commuting to work on the London Tube every day...

Where does the time go?

However, I have to say I am much happier now - much more capable of happiness - and realise more and more what a wonderful gift life is.

And to bring the blog back down to earth, we got back safely to our seaside town, shared a packet of fish and chips, and I am just about to fall asleep in front of the telly.

Medical stuff tomorrow.