On Tuesday, after I had dropped off Cathy at the old co-op car park, I had to take Dave's December magazines and the butterfly paperwork to the Post Office. The queues! This time of year has become a real hassle. But at least its done till next year.
But we had a good morning - doing some of our magazine route calls together. Had a nice chat with a couple of people. Was out again yesterday, with Joel and Mick. And hope to be out again this morning, if I can get myself together.
Just emailed my very sick internet friend in the U.S. He is having such a terrible time, and I am trying to get him to draw close to Jehovah, the God of all comfort. He is not someone we can reach on the door to door work, as he lives in a gated community. But Jehovah will always find a way if the heart is right.
After I had done the posting, I popped into the Oxfam shop and found the Tomalin biography of Thomas Hardy. It cost me £1.50, and that is value for money. I am enjoying it, though it is sad of course. But doesn't everyone's life look sad in retrospect, cut off as we are from our Creator?
There is a lovely picture of his first wife Emma. And, while I have always loved Hardy's poetry, the life does confirm my opinions about the dangers of marrying a poet. He had two wives, neither of whom were happy. Of course, its impossible to say exactly why. Both may well have been difficult women, and none of them were getting the guidance they needed from the Maker of marriage.
And Thomas Hardy loved the beauty and the glory of the creation, even though he was a Darwinist.
But I am happy to say that Captain Butterfly has never written a poem to me, or about me. And I am confident he never will. Which is a real comfort.