D E S M O N D. Dismal

Today we have been at my DESMOND Course (Diabetes Education and Self Management for Ongoing and Newly Diagnosed).     I say Dismal rather unfairly as it was an excellent course - everyone so diagnosed should go on one - and even more importantly, all those who are told they are pre-diabetic should go on one.   Insist on it.    They really do explain what the problem is, and what you must do about it.

And it was run by two lovely girls - one a pretty young mum with diabetes herself, and the other a stunning girl with long black curly hair.  Col was enthralled.   They explained and taught us very well, and though it was a full day, it went quickly.

Dismal though because it means such a change in my life.    What I like to eat are carbs and fruit - I can live quite happily without meat, fish and eggs.  And they seem to want us to eat fish twice a week - oily fish. It will have to be salmon  - and I am not a lover of salmon, unless the poor creature has just been pulled from the icy waters of South Island, New Zealand.

My breakfast is Ok as is.   And if I stick to veggie soup for lunch that is OK too.  But that is going to be a dismal business without bread or potatoes.  As for the evening meal - salad with tinned salmon and beans I guess.  The poor old Captain is going to get very tired of it, as I doubt I have the energy to prepare two different meals - not every night anyway.

And only 2 helpings of fruit a day.  I eat fruit obsessively, all the time. 

I know I should not complain.  This is a world in which thousands - millions? - of people live their whole lives never knowing what it is not to be hungry.  These are First world problems.

The best bet would be to look on food as the enemy, as something like medication, that has to be taken in a certain amount for my own good.  But not as something I expect to be much fun.   And I can remember being like as a child - even though my mother was a very good cook.  Food was something of a chore then.

I now have to do my best to return to those days.   And do I have to give up wine?   I only drink once a week, when Jacks is here, or we are at her place.  And then I do like a few glasses. But, perhaps I could make do with one and just quietly top it with water.

It is all very very depressing.

Anyway, tomorrow I am out with one of my siblings - we plan to meet up at the Field Service group in the morning and then, in the evening, its the meeting at the Kingdom Hall, which is just exactly what I need.  Thank God for the truth (Christianity being called "the way of the truth").  I puzzles me how anybody manages without it. Though,sadly, the truth is that so many don't.

On the plus side, Jean and I had a lovely morning out on Tuesday, catching up with route calls and return visits. 

Which reminds me, I also have to get more exercise.  But how?  I was talking to the lady next to me whose arthritis is even worse than mine, and we were saying how impossible it is. We can totter slowly about but that is it. Everyone suggests water exercises at the Pool.  But I can no longer get myself in and out of a swimmie since my shoulder replacement.   And Pools are so horrible slippery - I am just too scared of another fall.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.   What next?

Anyway, we are supposed to have stratagems for fighting this battle, and one of my mine might be to blog about my progress (or more likely lack of it), so you have been warned!

CHARM of the Masai Mara

Charm, the valiant matriarch of the Masai Mara Marsh lion pride, is in the review news after last night's amazing and harrowing episode of Dynasties - the latest David Attenborough production.

The life of the pride is full of tragedy.
https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/tv/reviews/dynasties-episode-3-review-david-attenborough-lions-bbc-a8647321.html

She was forced to abandon her sick cub when he became very ill after taking some poisoned bait left out by the cattle herders..  The male lions have either abandoned the pride, or been killed or been poisoned themselves. She and her sister were the only adults left to care for the cubs - and I think that was the moment when her sister disappeared too - poisoned I guess.   She had to move the pride on, away from the danger of us humans and livestock.   Charm kept visiting and re-visiting her sick cub, but he could not walk.  They parted lingeringly and with such sadness.

All during my youth scientists and biologists kept telling me that animals had no feelings "only instincts".   What is it about "the world and its wisdom" that can make people so blind, because even a child can see that is not true.  The animal creation, which should have been lovingly cared for by us, has suffered and is suffering terribly because of the rebellion in Eden.

How much we all need the coming rescue.  Then, when paradise is restored, earthwide, "the lion will eat straw just like the bull".  There will be no need then for the danger and the violence of hunting and all lions, all animals, will be able to look to us for any help they might need.   They will no longer need to fear we might poison their cubs.

What did become clear is that the press of human population means the Masai Mara is no longer quite the refuge it was meant to be.

How can people and their livestock and wild animals co-exist in the world as it is now?    Would I like to have a lion pride locally?    In theory, there would be plenty for them to eat - think of all us elderly shoppers zimmering along - talk about easy prey. And, lets face it, if they ate me it would save the Health Service a fortune. 

And I would love to look out my window in the morning and see a pride of lions basking on The Green - but it would be deeply upsetting to see the slaughter of the dogs and their walkers that would inevitably follow.

What is the answer?  Only the Kingdom of God will restore the peace that prevailed in Eden.   Has the Kingdom preaching work that Jesus left for his followers to do ever been more urgent?

And I hope to be out with the valiant Jean tomorrow morning, on the door to door work.

I feel as if I have done next to nothing today. I did the shopping for us and Jacks, got lunch and supper for the Captain et moi - veggie soup, baked potato with cheese and baked beans - did my study - we are in Acts at the moment - and a lot of dozing in front of the telly.  And talked to Dan - my young publisher (swamped with toys and a two year old), and my youngest sister Pen.

Saturday Night

Its Saturday night and we are just waiting for AM and Jacks to arrive for supper.  I thought it was about time I actually cooked something, rather than Cooksed it, and we are having Paprika chicken - with rice, and a salad. Followed by the usual ice-cream.

Jean and I had a lovely morning on the Field Service, and I was also out Wednesday afternoon and Thursday morning with others of my siblings.  I am still way behind with my calls though. I don't think we ever catch up.

And I am behind with my blogs too - as its now Sunday evening and I am waiting for Captain B to return from his treasure hunting.  Supper is ready - chicken vegggie soup, made using the last of the Paprika chicken from last night.    Everyone seemed to like the food - and had seconds. But i wasn't too enthused about it.  However, we all had a good evening - lots of chatting and laughter (and wine).

The Captain even gave AM the last of his calendars, the one that he had earmarked for the Raffle at the Wetlands Trust!   

There was lots of perfect advice, kindly and patiently delivered, at the Kingdom Hall today. We were considering how tenderly and carefully Jehovah looks after his congregated people - how that exodus of thousands from slavery in Egypt was so carefully organised.  And that was followed by the miraculous delivery at the Red Sea.

We need to build a strong faith in Jehovah now.  And experiencing the loving and orderly way we are cared for in the congregations is very faith-building.

I note a headline in the Sundays, saying something like "ADAM & EVE DID EXIST, scientists discover all humans are the descendants of one couple!!"

Yes.  Genesis has been telling us that from the beginning.  We are all the damaged children of disobedient Adam, all brother and sisters, all caught in the same trap, and all in need of the same rescue.

And we are all made from the dust of the ground - we are made out of the lovely earth we live on. And, if we listen to our Creator, we can live on it forever.

A Forsaken Garden

I think I must now blog the whole poem.

A Forsaken Garden

BY ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE

In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland, 

       At the sea-down's edge between windward and lee, 

Walled round with rocks as an inland island, 

       The ghost of a garden fronts the sea. 

A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses 

       The steep square slope of the blossomless bed 

Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses 

               Now lie dead. 

The fields fall southward, abrupt and broken, 

       To the low last edge of the long lone land. 

If a step should sound or a word be spoken, 

       Would a ghost not rise at the strange guest's hand? 

So long have the grey bare walks lain guestless, 

       Through branches and briars if a man make way, 

He shall find no life but the sea-wind's, restless 

               Night and day. 

The dense hard passage is blind and stifled 

       That crawls by a track none turn to climb 

To the strait waste place that the years have rifled 

       Of all but the thorns that are touched not of time. 

The thorns he spares when the rose is taken; 

       The rocks are left when he wastes the plain. 

The wind that wanders, the weeds wind-shaken, 

               These remain. 

Not a flower to be pressed of the foot that falls not; 

       As the heart of a dead man the seed-plots are dry; 

From the thicket of thorns whence the nightingale calls not, 

       Could she call, there were never a rose to reply. 

Over the meadows that blossom and wither 

       Rings but the note of a sea-bird's song; 

Only the sun and the rain come hither 

               All year long. 

The sun burns sere and the rain dishevels 

       One gaunt bleak blossom of scentless breath. 

Only the wind here hovers and revels 

       In a round where life seems barren as death. 

Here there was laughing of old, there was weeping, 

       Haply, of lovers none ever will know, 

Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleeping 

               Years ago. 

Heart handfast in heart as they stood, "Look thither," 

       Did he whisper? "look forth from the flowers to the sea; 

For the foam-flowers endure when the rose-blossoms wither, 

       And men that love lightly may die—but we?" 

And the same wind sang and the same waves whitened, 

       And or ever the garden's last petals were shed, 

In the lips that had whispered, the eyes that had lightened, 

               Love was dead. 

Or they loved their life through, and then went whither? 

       And were one to the end—but what end who knows? 

Love deep as the sea as a rose must wither, 

       As the rose-red seaweed that mocks the rose. 

Shall the dead take thought for the dead to love them? 

       What love was ever as deep as a grave? 

They are loveless now as the grass above them 

               Or the wave. 

All are at one now, roses and lovers, 

       Not known of the cliffs and the fields and the sea. 

Not a breath of the time that has been hovers 

       In the air now soft with a summer to be. 

Not a breath shall there sweeten the seasons hereafter 

       Of the flowers or the lovers that laugh now or weep, 

When as they that are free now of weeping and laughter 

               We shall sleep. 

Here death may deal not again for ever; 

       Here change may come not till all change end. 

From the graves they have made they shall rise up never, 

       Who have left nought living to ravage and rend. 

Earth, stones, and thorns of the wild ground growing, 

       While the sun and the rain live, these shall be; 

Till a last wind's breath upon all these blowing 

               Roll the sea. 

Till the slow sea rise and the sheer cliff crumble, 

       Till terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink, 

Till the strength of the waves of the high tides humble 

       The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink, 

Here now in his triumph where all things falter, 

       Stretched out on the spoils that his own hand spread, 

As a god self-slain on his own strange altar, 

               Death lies dead. 

 As I said in a previous blog, this makes me think of my young parents, in the 1940s, newly engaged, so young, so much in love, visiting my granny's house on the Cornish coast.  That was in the immediate post-war - bomb sites everywhere, land mines washing up on the beach, food rationing, my father a "displaced person" - and Cornwall itself was a forsaken kind of place then - wild and remote.   At least that is how I knew it in the Fifties.  The beaches were empty then.    Hard to imagine that now.  But its beauty and its sadness stays in my mind and is evoked by this poem.

I don't know where the garden was.   And don't know what Swinburne's religious beliefs were. But in the poem he seems to accept the Biblical view that the dead are "conscious of nothing at all"- and that also there will come a time when death will be no more.

Did he know of this promise in Revelation?

"With that I heard a loud voice from the throne say: “Look! The tent of God is with mankind, and he will reside with them, and they will be his people. And God himself will be with them. And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away.”" - Revelation 21:3,4

Death will be no more.  The dead will be woken from their dreamless sleep of death into an earth more lovely than they imagined it could be. And I hope to see my parents then, and my granny, and my dear Aunt Jo.

This morning I shopped briefly - and visited Maggie in the afternoon. There is not a lot of her left now. But she still loves a visitor - any visitor. She doesn't know me from Adam now, though in the early days she was there we could look at the Watchtower study together. She no longer writes her diary, which is a sad landmark.    And to my amazement I met someone I knew in the lounge - an elderly lady at whose doorstep I have been calling for many years.  I couldn't quite make out why she was there, though she is perfectly compos mentis and we had a good talk.  She is hoping to be back in her home next week, so I will look out for her both there and in the nursing home the next time I visit Maggie.

I hope her stay can be a temporary one.  But I am worried it won't.  Anyway, she seemed very pleased to see me, and I got a kiss!

Aunt Jo's Funeral

The funeral was on Friday the 16th November, at 11 a.m. at a Catholic Church in Chelsea.  It was a full mass, which I hadn't expected. It took me back to my Catholic childhood, in spite of the changes.  The mass was of course in Latin when I was young.

The priest conducting had come out of retirement to do so - and made a touchingly careful and thoughtful job of it all - assisted only by a lady in black, who seemed to do a little of what altar boys used to do.   We were a small congregation - 19 I think - but the singing was beautiful.  Someone, somewhere in the back of the church had a beautiful voice.

Those who were Catholics took communion, and I noted that Catholics still only take the bread, not the wine.  As I said it took me back, in ways that were both nostalgic and painful, to my childhood, to the times when Jo was our glamorous London aunt and my sisters and I were Catholic Convent schoolgirls.  None of us are Catholics now. 

Later when the Captain and I were young marrieds, living in London, she and Paul became our good friends.  And we kept in touch through our expat years. Jo became extra precious when my parents died- a thread connecting me to them.

Yet I can't be sad that the painful struggle with old age is over.  I already know something of how difficult it is.  Jo was always stoical and dignified and fun - the very opposite of a Snowflake.  And I'm glad there is no more struggling for her.  But its sad how you lose people, one by one.

So glad we got to the funeral though. And Jeremy and Paddy provided a splendid lunch afterwards - at a Chelsea pub only a short walk away - The Cross Keys.   We had great bar snacks/tapas, including my first taste of truffle - on a brie and truffle toast - mmmmm.  I have always wanted to try truffle. Thank you Aunt Jo, Jeremy and Paddy. It was delicious.   And I would be eating it now only our shops here don't run to truffles - much to the Captain's relief (given the price they must be).

And I met some very interesting people, including an Academic who is the Expert on the poet Swinburne. He was just off to give a talk in Paris - at the Sorbonne presumably.

I don't think that many people read Swinburne now, but one of my longtime favourite poems is one of his: "A Forsaken Garden".
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45287/a-forsaken-garden

The power of words to reach the heart...  this always makes me think of my young parents, in Cornwall, newly engaged... 

Oh, and on a different note, I asked if he knew of the Beachcomber parody of Swinburne's "Dolores".  He didn't!  But really liked it, and laughed and laughed.  (I could remember it as it is only 2 lines, but it means nothing unless you have read the poem.)

I asked if he would use it in his next lecture. He said he would.  I hope he will.

And I was able to give a small witness - about the reason why Jehovah's Witnesses do not take blood transfusions.

I have never been to a funeral/memorial like it before. It was exceptional, like my aunt.  And I hope so much that we will see her again, when the time comes.

Wrestling with Letter, Card and Email

Not sleeping too well... and its hard to think at the moment. But I need to write a sympathy card and letter to Aunt Jo's brother and his wife.   I want to find the right words to say as it has been a privilege to have a Jo as an honorary aunt all these years. 

We got a lovely card when we shopped in Worthing Wednesday afternoon. I had a routine hospital visit - all well, thank Goodness.     Which is unusual these days.    But now I am struggling to write the letter. I just want to say how lovely it was to have had Jo in our lives as an aunt and friend, and how much I will miss that, even though we are glad that her valiant struggle with the horrors of old age is now over.

And the card... I got a lovely one from Waitrose - but I must find the right words.

Hopefully I did as we got to the funeral in London yesterday and handed the card and letter over to Jeremy and Paddy.   My first day trip to London for some years. I hope to blog about the funeral later.

We had gone to Dorking Thursday evening to see Chris Packham - so we had a late night and  a very early start.  And it meant I missed the meeting at the Kingdom Hall. 

However, we got to the funeral.  And we are very very glad we did.

Back to the Field

Back to the field this morning with the valiant Jean. I rang her at the usual time.  "Sue" she said hesitantly "Would you mind if we went out a little later this morning, I have had a very bad night?"

"Well" I said kindly "If that is what you need Jean, of course,...  and by the way HURRAY as I am not up to much this morning either."

Anyway, we did nearly two hours - most of it one call - tea, biscuits, and invited back. 

Then it was home to make a curry (veggie) for tomorrow and the soup for tonight.   And to get my Expense Form sorted out - for my butterfly expenses, having my wings serviced, that sort of thing.  That is such a tiresome chore, but it is done now.  The Captain lugged the new memberships to the Post Office - and also posted the 2019 Calendars - his year in the field - the more literal fields. 

And the lovely Jean rang me this evening to tell me that she was re-reading "Old Playgrounds" - and how much she loved it.  I said I would pass on her comments to the family, as it is a small selection of family poems.  Sad and funny, and I hope interesting.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007FQEDUU/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1

Julia emailed to say that the Thank you flowers we sent her had arrived.  (Address: The Hollowed out Oak Tree in Sherwood Forest.)  And she says she will come down for a visit - perhaps next Spring.

Hospital tomorrow - yet another routine check up - no wonder the poor old NHS is in trouble, havng to cope with me and my old age...  feel quite guilty about it.

Maid Julia of Sherwood Forest

Sunday night we got back from a trip to Nottingham to attend the National AGM of Butterfly Conservation - and Julia kindly offered to put us up.  Fortunately she lives in a nice house, not a large hollowed out oak in the Forest.  So we had a very comfortable stay.   After a somewhat stressful journey up, she took us out for an Indian meal at The Himalayan.
http://www.himalayaninn.com/

The restaurant was very smart, the staff charming and efficient, and I had one of my favourites - a paneer curry, followed by Kulfi ice-cream.   They even let us take the little pot the Kulfi came in home with us. Captain B wants it for a marmalade pot - in which is homemade marmalade can be housed in state.

Thoroughly recommended - we would go there again the next time we are staying with Julia.

We got to the AGM on Saturday - the venue was The Nottingham Belfry Hotel - very organised - they did a good job.   Some of the talks were a bit too dry and graphy for me.  I really like ones with lots of pretty butterflies landing on equally pretty flowers - but possibly my tastes should not be pandered to.   Jim (Asher) got the morning's business done in an exemplary and interesting manner, and Nigel, our new National Treasurer (and Treasure) coped fine with a computer glitch that robbed him of all his slides.

And one of the Awardees was Jamie from West Sussex.  That was what gave me the incentive to get up there - along with being able to see Julia.

We had a good drive back on Sunday - through some lovely Autumn sunshine, and showers.

Today we shopped in the morning - took Jackie's shopping round to her and stopped for a coffee and a catch up.   Then we had lunch - soup, veggie - and I made a big fruit cake in case it is going to be needed at the local AGM on Saturday.  (It will come in for the sandwich lunches if not.)   And I bit the bullet and got down to the load of butterfly paperwork that arrived on Friday morning just as we  were leaving.

Six new Membership packages are now ready to go to the Post Office.

And I managed a bit of studying.  So a busy enough day - for me - these days.

Beth, Walking

Carole and Beth at Littlehampton

We just hosted Beth:  http://bethfootforward.co.uk/

Clearly, her walk has begun, and Jon,  a Sussex Search & Rescue (http://www.sussar.org/) volunteer walked with her to us.  We provided supper - various curries, ice-cream and wine - a bed for the night, breakfast and a packed lunch.  And this morning we handed her over to Carole - another SusSAR volunteer - who will walk the next leg with her.

It was fun having her to stay, and a thank you for her help in raising funds for Lowland Rescue, along with the RNLI, which is such good causes.   We will be following her progress with interest.

Sadly though just as we were all milling about after breakfast, a phone call came from Jeremy to tell us that Aunt Jo has died.

His only sibling.  My last aunt.

Things are getting very sad.   And I will be blogging about her. 

She was our glamorous London aunt.  And she has always been there - up to now.


Jean and I got to the Field Service Group yesterday and we did have a lovely morning out together - we were given just the right amount of territory, and we made a return visit on a lady who remembered exactly what Jean had said to her about the resurrection.

Its Sylvia's Memorial at the Kingdom Hall today - and Jean just rang to ask for a lift.  So we will be going together and I will think about Aunt Jo as well as Sylvia at the service this afternoon.  Especially when the brother giving the talk reminds us of the hope we have of seeing our loved ones again.

The Great Western at Corsham

We were invited to the Family and Friends opening night of The Great Western Pub at Corsham.

https://www.gazetteandherald.co.uk/news/16885689.works-starts-on-the-great-western-pub-refurbishment/

Mike and Kim the new landlords are friends from our Saudi years.  We spent our last night in the Middle East with them.  They drove us over the Causeway to Bahrain and treated us to a wonderful meal at Senor Pacos.  They also coped with the moment on the Causeway when the guy in charge refused to accept our Exit Only Visa - which seemed to leave us in No-Man's land - pretty much having left Saudi, but not having left enough to enable to us to drive the next few yards that would let us enter Bahrain.

It was lovely to see them again - 10 years later!  They don't seem to have changed at all. They were in a frenzy of preparation - complete refurbishment - workmen still drilling in one of the rooms - but it was all looking very good.  It felt great as soon as we stepped inside- a log fire was burning - it has the cosy feel of a good local.  And the darts team was already playing in the back room. 

They put on a lovely buffet - and we met the chef - a lady with spiky hair, tattoos, and great cooking skills.

So we hope its going to be a real success.   It will be hard work, but well worthwhile. We hope to call in for lunch when things have calmed down a bit.

And if you find yourself in Corsham, please pop in, have lunch, and say hello to Mike and Kim for us.  And to the two friendly dogs, who were so excited to have a pubful of people to rush about at.
.
Back to our routine now.  Jean and I had a morning on the door to door work on Saturday. It was such an effort to get ourselves out, and we did not make it to the Field Service Group.  But we were so glad we did go.  One of Jean's regular calls - a Methodist lady - told us that she appreciated the mags so much she was sharing them with her group.

It was worth going out to hear that alone.

And I drove us (myself and a young sibling) to the meeting at the Kingdom Hall Sunday morning - the Captain having left early with Metal Detector and sandwiches.  No hoards of treasure to report but I think he enjoyed it all.

It keeps him off the streets - and in the fields.