Three Students

 

The Five Students

The sparrow dips in his wheel-rut bath,
The sun grows passionate-eyed,
And boils the dew to smoke by the paddock-path;
As strenuously we stride, -
Five of us; dark He, fair He, dark She, fair She, I,
All beating by.

The air is shaken, the high-road hot,
Shadowless swoons the day,
The greens are sobered and cattle at rest; but not
We on our urgent way, -
Four of us; fair She, dark She, fair He, I, are there,
But one - elsewhere.

Autumn moulds the hard fruit mellow,
And forward still we press
Through moors, briar-meshed plantations, clay-pits yellow,
As in the spring hours - yes,
Three of us: fair He, fair She, I, as heretofore,
But - fallen one more.

The leaf drops: earthworms draw it in
At night-time noiselessly,
The fingers of birch and beech are skeleton-thin,
And yet on the beat are we, -
Two of us; fair She, I. But no more left to go
The track we know.

Icicles tag the church-aisle leads,
The flag-rope gibbers hoarse,
The home-bound foot-folk wrap their snow-flaked heads,
Yet I still stalk the course, -
One of us . . . Dark and fair He, dark and fair She, gone:
The rest - anon.

Thomas Hardy

https://internetpoem.com/thomas-hardy/the-five-students-poem/

I feel that I want to end my blog year with this Hardy poem - it is one I have loved for a long time, so I may well have blogged it before.  Also I guess I can say I have lived it - from the spring of my life to the winter. I am in the last verse now.

But, nevertheless, I still hope that I will be able to "inherit the earth" as Jesus promised, and live on this lovely planet for ever. I hope we all will. And I hope that Thomas Hardy and the friends he lost will too. I hope that Jehovah will wake them from the dreamless sleep of death when the time comes.

The photo that heads the blog is of me as a young student, many many years ago. It was taken by my father I think. I am on the left, the one with the long dark hair.  There are of course only three students in the photo, but back then we were all in the first verse of the poem, as were the poet and his friends.  At least two of us have made it as far as the last verse.  I have lost contact with the third.   

How short our lives are now - I cannot tell you how quickly it goes.

Waves in an oddly Warm Winter

Photo taken by Captain B late Tuesday morning.

I want to write a Haiku, on the lines of: Approach, Retreat, Surf at my feet...  but haven't yet managed to. It would probably have as its theme time, time passing, so inexorably and fast for us, while the waves continue to come and go, come and go.

Though I can also look at it this way.  Every day is another day nearer to the new system of things on the earth - the "new earth", under the rulership of the "new heavens".  And the beginning of more happiness than we can probably now imagine.  

Which, as is always the problem, a lot to get into one Haiku.

I did manage to get to the Kingdom Hall on Sunday morning and help with the teas and coffees afterwards as it was the turn for our group to host and to clean. I feel there is so much I can't do for the congregation family now that I must do whatever bits I can.  Monday - the 25th itself - was grey and rainy, rather suiting my mood - which was very low key, as I was still in what hospitals these days call "discomfort" - as in "The Gestapo caused discomfort to those it was interrogating".

It was a very very painful few days, but, thank God, finally began to easy during Monday afternoon.

We had a Zoom call on Monday morning, with Oz, Lilac Tree, the bungalow and them from Derby.   All seems OK, though two of us are down with Covid.  One little granddaughter was in the middle of her treasure hunt, which roamed between the two houses, so we got a zoom glimpse of the garden. Our block of flats seemed very quiet, with no smell of cooking. So I guess everyone was away with family for the duration, as we would have been.

On Tuesday I joined the short Zoom Field Service meeting and began to catch up on some of the things I have not been doing over the last few days - having been in too much pain.  I got the washing done, and made a big pan of lentil veggie soup for our lunches this week.  I had a long chat with Bea, via telephone. She too is having her medical issues - beautifully timed to strike just at the moment every dentist shuts shop for the holiday week!  

And I began my studying for the week - we are in the Book of Job and I seem to be getting so much more out of it this time around. I hope to be able to tell him how much some of his words have helped me over the years, IF I am there in the paradise earth. Job surely will be.

Jehovah longs to see his faithful servants again.  

And I returned to my witnessing letters, just 5 of them. 

Storm Gerritt roared all day Wednesday, and I began to feel ill again... my afternoon double Zoom session with a friend was a welcome distraction.  And these verses from Philippians, which were part of the commentary on our daily Scripture today are so so timely:

Do not be anxious over anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication along with thanksgiving, let your petitions be made known to God; and the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and your mental powers by means of Christ Jesus. - Philippians 4:6,7

Can I hold on to this today, as the pains and indignities and exhaustion of old age tightens its grip?  All we need to do is rely on our loving Creator, accept his guidance, and take it a day at a time.  Every day takes us nearer to happiness in the Paradise earth.

On The Spectrum

The first Covid lockdown in spring 2020 was, for Millie, a welcome relief. “You weren’t allowed to go to school, you weren’t allowed to leave the house, nobody was allowed to come round – it was good for her.”

https://www.theguardian.com/education/2023/sep/02/children-are-holding-a-mirror-up-to-us-why-are-britains-kids-refusing-to-go-to-school

I was touched to find this, - a mother writing about what a relief Lockdown was to her autistic child - as I relate to it so much.  For those of us on the Asperger's /Autism spectrum human contact is stressful and puzzling. It is something we continually get wrong.

The photo is of the young me and my mother in the 1940s. How young she was!  I hope so much I will see her again  - and my father - when the time comes for the resurrection.  And I guess the 1940s must seem as distant to the young of today as the Victorian times did to me as a child - if not even more so. And yet, it was only yesterday.

And had it been possible to refuse to go to school back then, I would have done so.  I hated it, and I am sure it was no fun for the school either.  Not that I was badly behaved in any deliberate way, it was just so hard for me to understand what was going on and what was expected of me - and, of course to get on with my classmates.

I have been asking my friend Pete what strategies he used to cope at school, and beyond.  Not that you know they are strategies at the time of course, it is ways of coping with problems you don't even know you have. You just feel like an idiot and try to mitigate it.  It's possible that my current eye problems are connected to an early strategy that I can remember.  One day as I was mooching round the junior school playground on my own, a very popular and powerful (in playground terms) little girl came along, with her entourage.  "I don't like her, with her half closed eyes", she said, pointing me out.

Aspergers children can never have that oh so useful entourage.

Many years later, I was working in Richmond - dealing with apprenticeships for boat builders of all things, one of the nice girls I worked with said that she had passed me at lunch time. I hadn't seen her, even though my eyes were wide open. She said my eyes were odd, unblinking.

So I think what I had been doing, without in the least realising it - these were in no way conscious strategies - was going round the stressful atmosphere of school with my eyes slitted almost shut, trying to reduce the amount of information coming in. As, essentially, IF I am understanding this right, Aspergers/Autism is an information processing problem - damaged connections in the brain. I was getting much more info coming at me from all directions than I could process.

So, having been shocked into realising firstly that I was walking round with my eyes half-shut, and secondly that this was socially unacceptable, I must have tried to keep them wide open, unblinkingly, but just try not to see what I was actually seeing. To sort of look inward with my mind and try not to let myself notice what was going on around me.

That at any rate is what I assume.  I now have a problem with dry eyes, and an Optician told me that there is something wrong with my blink reflex.

Another strategy I remember is akin to the strategy Donna Williams described, i.e. jumping out of the cupboard before they open the door on you.  By which she meant talking very very fast all the time so that they would not be saying anything to which you would not be responding properly. And that would make you appear more normal.  Of course, it doesn't. But I guess it appeared to me that other people talked fast about nothing all the time, and I was trying to fit in. 

Once again, I was shocked awake by a girl at school.  well on a school trip - my first time abroad, to Switzerland. It was not expensive back then, especially as a school trip - we slept in the hotel attic - or I would not have been able to go.  She and I shared a ski-lift and she mentioned that I had just talked non-stop at her. She wasn't being nasty, she was a nice girl, and I think she wanted to make me aware of it for my sake. She had clearly been bombarded by a lightning speed monologue that may not have made much sense. I think at that point I returned to being quiet.

Though I definitely remember trying once again in my student days - which is a time when I think even the most confident and outgoing among us can find difficult. I can remember consciously deciding that I would ask people a lot of questions, as that way I would get one of these apparently essential conversations going.

Did it work?  I doubt it. It was probably just annoying, as I don't think I really listened to their answers, I was too busy working out my next question to keep things flowing.  I notice that some of the young interviewers of politicians seem to work in much the same way these days - aspergers or incompetence/inexperience? I don't know.

Anyway, that is as far as I have got with it. And I don't want to over-egg the pudding here anyway. We are all born damaged and dying, as our first parents had made that fatal choice to cut themselves and us, their unborn children, off from their Creator, their Source of life.

 There is not one of us that has a perfect body or brain, and so life, which should be nothing but joy, is a struggle for everyone.  And I am at the mild end of the spectrum.  Maybe it does give me an idea of what deep autism must be like, when nothing connects and makes sense. But only maybe.

Talking of damaged bodies, I have spent the last three days with a very painful UTI, and have been clinging on to the Bible's promise that there will come a time when no resident of the earth will say "I am sick". (Isaiah 33:24)

The antibiotics seem to have kicked in, thank God - and I am also very grateful to the NHS. And I plan to go to the Hall for the meeting today - especially important as I am on tea and coffee duty after the meeting.  Col is off metal detecting. And tomorrow will be just another day.  

As we should have been having an excellent turkey lunch with all the trimming, he bought himself a steak and we have mushrooms, tomatoes, onions and potatoes to go with it. And I have made his favourite dessert, an apple crumble.  We also have custard.

My diabetes would allow me to have a steak dinner, provided I left off the potatoes, but I don't like steak and really only eat meat on social occasions. So I plan to make a veggie curry or chile this afternoon - with beans not rice - which will last a couple of days and then turn into soup for both of us.

We had a bit of a scramble last minute shop when we realised we would be here over the holiday and the shops had that frantic Christmas air.  It all seems so stressful now, almost hysterical.

Do people really enjoy celebrating it - I mean apart from getting together with the extended family? And, sadly, not everyone even enjoys that.

New Cards and Calendars

Our 2024 Calendars arrived on Tuesday morning, along with a new set of cards, as promised.  We have gone Fungi for next year, and I have chosen a couple of fungi photos plus one butterfly for my greeting cards - see the Sulphur Tufts above.

All were taken by Captain Butterfly of course - with his own fair hands.  The one above was taken at Pulborough Brooks.  Which makes me think rather sadly of all the places I now can't go. But I should instead think of what an interesting life the Captain has given me - so much travel, so many outings - and above all be grateful for the amazing gift of life that Jehovah has given us both.  And to continue to try to tell all who will listen that Jehovah wants to give everyone back the life and perfection and the paradise that our first parents so tragically lost.

And I am a homebody anyway. Always have been.

One of the things I imagine myself doing if I have the privilege of being in the restored earthly paradise, is mushrooming in Autumn woodland - of going out with my trug to spend the afternoon picking mushrooms of various sorts to make a splendid soup/stew for supper.

I would not dare do it at the moment, as even the most experienced fungi-hunter can make lethal mistakes, plus I couldn't physically do it anyway.

It is hard to believe it is almost 2024. What happened to 2023 - it seems over almost before it has begun.

Amazing videos of the volcanic explosion in Iceland - rivers of fire, skies of fire.  WOW!  I hope everyone is well clear of the area. I think so, in that they knew it was coming.

We had worrying news on Tuesday, as Nute rang to say she has just tested positive for Covid.  That of course cancels our plans to go up North, but more importantly, we are worried about her. Christmas/New Year is not a good time to be ill. We are hoping this will be a mild version of the lurgi, but who knows?  It is a mysterious thing. And she, like me, is also past her sell-by date.

Can you imagine a world where we do not have to be worried about those we love - or about anything?  In other words, paradise - as Jehovah has always intended the earth to be.  As it will be.

Which is what we, Jehovah's Witnesses, are trying and trying to tell you when we come to your door.

Rang Nute Wednesday morning. She sounded very hoarse and was not feeling wonderful, which I think is par for the dismal course during the first days of Covid. Hopefully the vax protects from the long term side affects. Captain B is busy parcelling up a vast load of calendars as we won't be able to deliver them in person now. I hope to be up early tomorrow and get them to the Post Office first thing before the seasonal queues have built up.

Which I did. First thing, I had to fill out 4 customs forms (for family and friends who live abroad, and, yes, we are rather late with them this year),  so although I was first in the queue, I had to go to the back while I did the forms.  Though by the time I had managed to struggle through them, I was first in the queue again. However, it then took the poor lady so long to process the 4 overseas calendars, never mind the rest, that I was there a good twenty minutes.  I didn't dare look at how long the queue was as I left...

I have to assume that whoever thought up this scheme neither works in a Post Office, not has to do their own posting, but has minions to do it for them.

Once again, how I long for the time when the Kingdom of God is ruling over the earth. It organises things so well.

In England, in December

ON BANDOS ISLAND

by me

Palms laced with frangipan

hide coral strand

Coconuts carelessly 

crash onto sand

Hermit crabs shop for shell

by mango root

At night giant bats glide out

hunting for fruit.

I thought this might be a good poem - one from our travelling years - to cheer up a bleak December day in the UK.  Not that I mind bleak. I love all the seasons. 

We used to go to the Maldives every year with the Aramco Shoal.  They are paradise islands, or would be if "the original serpent" were not still in the garden - as he is worldwide. So at the moment nothing is perfect.  Or, as Janet Frame, said "Everything should be perfect. Why isn't it?" Answer: read the first chapters of Genesis.

But the Maldives are breathtakingly beautiful, and very green - also very hot and very humid, with the sound of the sea ever present.

I am not even sure if this a poem, or a verse.  There could have been a lot beneath it. I could have been writing about how even in such a paradise-like place, we are still living in the tragedy of the loss of Eden. I could have been writing about the weight of tourism on the islands (as I did in "Waiting for Gordo").  But I didn't.  If there is anything beneath the poem/verse it is simply how heat and humidity can stop you thinking at all. You just observe, without drawing conclusions.

Saturday was shopping in the morning. We saw the Big Issue girl, and bought one. I managed a letter to a couple of Uni friends - while I don't send Christmas cards, we still get them, and I try to reply to each one - and we had a rare (these days) Saturday night outing, to a chili evening, which was great fun once we got there. We relied on our Satnav but what with being a bit puzzled by the new estates, our elderly eyes, and the dark and the rain, we managed to do a tour of every street in the district before we arrived at the one we wanted.

However, we made it back home, replete with excellent chili and good company, with just the one wrong turn en route.

Old age is difficult. It is a good thing you don't realise that when you are young or it could blight your whole life. The main thing though is to be grateful for every day and try to enjoy it - which on the whole I do.  I still love not having to rush off to work in the mornings, even though I have been retired for many years.

And I still appreciate not having to go to school - shudder.  Yet I now hope for an eternity of learning - learning wonderful things, in a loving environment, in paradise, in fact, when "the sadness that belongs to the world" is a thing of the past - when the Maldive islands will be even more lovely than they are now!

And talking of the sadness that belongs to the world, the tragedies in the News remind us daily that we are still living in the world of Paradise Lost.  There is a harrowing article in the online Guardian today about what is happening in Palestine.  It is a nightmare, especially for the children, the old and the sick. A nightmare.  And I do not forget that some of those taken hostage in the brutal attack that set all this off are still not found - and they are likely going through a continuing nightmare too.

How horribly successful "the world" is at setting brother against brother. 

I hope and pray that more and more of us - the damaged children of disobedient Adam - will seek for our loving Creator, the God of Abraham. He will care for us now, and for all eternity, if we will only come to Him. And he is already teaching millions of us - from "every tribe and tongue and nation" to live in peace as the brothers and sisters we truly are.

In such a hate-filled world, isn't that a miracle?

Another Review of "The Umbrellas of Hamelin"

 

Sue Knight has an unusual style, typified in the stories in 'Umbrellas', where a tension is created that causes rapid page-turning as the reader urges towards finding the answers to the mysteries. This is not a book to put down part-way. You are propelled, helter-skelter, into strange events. No spoilers, this is a book you will not stop until you reach the end.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Umbrellas-Hamelin-Sue-Knight/dp/1914060555

My lovely and kind reader has said that it is a page-turner. That he could not put it down.

What author could ask for more? That is always what I aim for, to draw my reader into the world of the book and make them want to find out what happens next.

And what amazing things words are, and the gift of speech is.  My only worry is whether I have used it right in these stories. They were mostly written before I knew the truth - Christianity being called "the way of the truth" - and the wonderful hope that lies before us.  At any rate, I offer no political solutions, so even back then I knew that we ourselves could not put the world to rights.  

What I didn't know when I wrote most of them was what the Bible said about God's Kingdom, the heavenly government that will restore the whole earth to paradise. 

There was a lovely sunrise this morning - the sky streaked with a delicate orange-pink, and the Channel a light and tender blue.  My morning was spent with a medical phone call - about my diabetes.  My numbers are up a bit - re the latest blood test - and I have to make a more concerted effort to control it via diet.

In harmony with that, I spent the morning making a large veggie/lentil casserole. It turned out rather well, even though I say so myself as shouldn't. Even Captain  B liked it. It seems all that time I have spent watching Masterchef was not wholly wasted.

The meeting last night was, as always, full of interest and encouragement and comfort. We are still in Job at the moment, and I seem to be getting so much more out of it this time around.

And of course I love the way that the writer of Job was inspired to describe so exactly the way the earth floats in space - and this was back at a time when the force of gravity was not understood, nor was the position of earth in space. Back then it was felt, understandably, that the earth had to rest upon something.

But the book of Job tells us this.  It says, of Jehovah, "He stretches out the northern sky over the empty space, hanging the earth upon nothing" - Job 26:7

Hanging the earth upon nothing. A perfect description.

The Pelicans of Terror

We had a rare outing to the Wetland Trust on Monday - for lunch, and to buy pressies for the 3 youngest great-granddaughters.  We succeeded in having the lunch -  veggie curry pastie for me, shepherds pie for him - all very nice. We followed it with coffee and, I regret to say, a slice of Victoria sandwich, with jam and cream. Well I only had a small slice off Col's portion. But still... 

It was very good and sent us into a flurry of reminiscence  about the Victoria sandwich cakes our mothers used to make. They were both excellent bakers.

We visited the terrifying pelicans (I have never really got over seeing a pelican in a London park swallow a pigeon whole) and the exquisite Merganser ducks, but we only managed to find one pressie - for the youngest girl. I think for the other two we can probably get something small from the Art Cafe, and add some money with it. For all the others, it will be a card with money in it anyway. Our ancient selves would have no idea what to buy for a teenager. 

Once again, I am depressed at how much that tiny bit of walking has hurt. I am exhausted today and in a fair amount of pain. And it was only a tiny bit - the Pelican enclosure is right next to the restaurant.

The Watchtower article for Sunday included this:

Peter urged us to “love one another intensely from the heart.” In this context, to love “intensely” involves stretching the limits of our natural inclination to love. For example, what if a brother offends or hurts us in some way? Our instinct may be to retaliate rather than to show love. Yet, Peter learned from Jesus that retaliation does not please God. (John 18:10, 11) Peter wrote: “Do not pay back injury for injury or insult for insult. Instead, repay with a blessing.” (1 Pet. 3:9) Allow intense love to move you to be kind and considerate even to those who may have hurt you.

So I was thinking of how "the world" - the current system of things on the earth - is doing all it can to push us in the opposite direction. We are not only told to "get our retaliation in first", but we are now encouraged to look for "microaggressions" - that is, to try to find things to take offence at... any tiny thing we can find. 

And look at the results - see any episode of the News, which is recording all the ongoing tragedies, large and small, that surround us.

In contrast, our loving Creator, who is the very Source of wisdom teaches us this:

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous. It does not brag, does not get puffed up, does not behave indecently, does not look for its own interests, does not become provoked. It does not keep account of the injury. It does not rejoice over unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth. 

- 1 Corinthians 13:4-6

Love does not keep account of the injury - let alone go out looking for extra injuries to keep account of!

Which is the way that leads to peace?  Is it Jehovah's way, or the world's?  And which way do we want to go?

It is up to us. We are all in "the valley of the decision".  We need to come to know our Creator and know how to ask for his help - as he will give it.  

Is it easy?  No. Not as things are, with our own imperfect natures to contend with along with the present system of things on the earth.  Is it worth it?  Yes. Yes squared.

Making Bricks Without Much Straw

Or in this case, trying to make something for supper on Tuesday night, as I didn't have very much in until the delivery arrived in the evening - after supper-time.  As we had veggies that needed using up, and some pearl barley, I settled on a veggie and barley casserole with dumplings.  Col requested an omelette instead.  In the end he had the casserole, but I have to admit it was not very good. For some reason I did not use my standard dumpling recipe, as I found one on the internet that used yoghurt as the fat. I thought it would be healthier, which likely it would, but only because you would not be tempted to eat the subsequent dumplings.

You would be more tempted to use them as foundation stones for a large block of flats.  They would be very healthy used that way as probably only a nuclear strike could bring them down,

I put the word "brick" into the search engine for Col's photo gallery and came up with the exquisite creature above, apparently called "The Brick". Don't ask me why. But "the brick" would have been an appropriate name for those dumplings I made.

Thursday was very stormy - I kept thinking of that Biblical phrase "the roaring of the sea and its agitation".  It is a wonderful sound, in the literal sense.  It is a phrase sometimes used in the Bible to refer to the restless sea of mankind, alienated from their Creator, tossed about by every current of the world.

Zoomed with a friend in in the morning, and attended the evening meeting via Zoom.  I no longer feel up to driving in dark and rain combined, and while Captain B would have chauffered me, he had just come back cold and soaked through from a day out in it, so it seemed cruel to drag him out again.

Friday - a medical day - two hospital appointments, one with Rheumatology, and one for the blood test required by Dermatology, which has to be done at the hospital. We met up with two congregation siblings in one of the waiting rooms, which was a nice surprise.

One day, I suppose, my week will be so consumed with medical appointments that I will have no time to eat, drink or sleep, and I will die.  Or the NHS will crumble away to nothing before I do.  Both scenarios seem quite likely at the moment.

Though having said that the morning went very well. I got into my Rheumatology appointment on time - on time! - very rare. They can run a good half an hour late.  Apparently it was an unusually quiet day patient-wise. That meant I turned up very early for my blood test appointment, and yet they saw me straight away. They were having a quiet day too!  

The outcome was OK, though with some alarming warnings about what might happen to me next as my back continues to deteriorate.  And the small amount of walking involved has left me in a lot of pain today - and wondering how I am to manage the exercise I am supposed to get without crippling myself.

But how would I be feeling now if I did not know the truth - if I did not have the hope of the time, here on earth, when "no resident will say 'I am sick'"?  Perfect health - something we, the damaged children of disobedient Adam, have never yet known.  But, if we listen to our Creator, Jehovah, now, it lies ahead for us.

I doubt we can imagine how wonderful it will be. But for sure, if I do have the privilege of being in the paradise earth, the more decrepit I have become in this present system of things, the more I will be able to appreciate the rescue.  That, at any rate, is the thought I am trying to hold on to.

Knowledge, Understanding and Wisdom

Here is another beautiful snow scene taken by Captain B, though not this year - not yet anyway.  But who knows? My sister posted a very snowy view from her Sheffield window on fb on Monday morning. So it may well be on its way down South.

The brother giving the public talk on Sunday gave us a very simple illustration about knowledge, understanding and wisdom.  It is one I won't forget and so goes to prove that the simplest illustrations are the best.

It goes this way:  If you are standing in the middle of the road and you see a bus heading straight for you, you have the knowledge of your situation.  If you then realise that this bus is going to run you over if you don't get out of the way, you have the understanding of your situation.  If you get yourself off the road and onto the pavement, then you have wisdom - the wisdom to use the knowledge and the understanding that you have.

But, without the wisdom to act on the knowledge and understanding you have, that knowledge and understanding is of no use to you. The bus will hit you. And you will sustain a lot more damage than it will.

The point being that not only do our lives depend on knowing and understanding what our Creator is telling us, but by our acting on it. And promptly.  

And for sure you can know what the Bible says without any understanding, let alone wisdom.   We must have read Jesus' Sermon on the Mount often in my convent schooldays, so we knew that Jesus said "the meek will inherit the earth".  We had the knowledge. But where was the understanding, given we were still believing that the meek would go off to heaven?

Yet Jesus clearly said "the earth", not "heaven".  It wasn't until two Jehovah's Witnesses called at my door, many years later that I got the understanding. And ever since then I have been taught the wisdom to act on the understanding.

Sunday's public talk was part of that teaching.

We had a short meeting after the meeting at the Hall  yesterday, for those of us who have parts in the upcoming Assembly.  So I now know that I will be first on in the Watchtower study, and the question I will be answering is:  What similarities are there between our situation and that of the Jews who returned to Jerusalem? 

And my answer must be one minute, no longer.  So it's not difficult - it's just whether I panic at finding myself on the BIG stage...  I think I may once have appeared as Fourth Toadstool in the back row (or some such) at a nativity play in my convent schooldays, but that is about it. And that was not a speaking part!

Nowadays I don't celebrate Christmas, but back then I longed to be cast as an angel in the nativity plays and have a pair of sparkly silver wings.  Many many years later, I found myself in a Gift Shop in Stratford-on-Avon - probably the very Shoppe where Shakespeare bought his souvenir tea towels - and they had a pair of sparkly wings on sale. And I had a credit card!

"They'll never get you off the ground", Captain B pointed out gloomily, but accurately.  So I didn't buy them.

But I was tempted.

December Calendar

We chose a wintry scene for December in our 2023 calendar - see above. Will we be seeing similar scenes this year, or not? It has suddenly got very cold and there was frost on the cars on Friday morning.

We haven't done a 2024 one yet, and I am not sure we will now. I thought if we do, it could be a fungi calendar, as Col has lots of lovely shots from his Passionate about Photographing all things Mushroom years.  I sorted out a load of pics from his gallery today in the hopes to prompt him.

I had yet another doctor's appointment and Col chauffered me and then we drove to Rustington for the weekly Greengrocery shop. So it involved minimal walking really. But just that has left my left ankle very sore and swollen...   and now, Sunday morning, my right foot is playing up.

On the doubleplusgood side, the Medic checked my heart   - it's still beating! - and found that my bp was fine. Any good health news is welcome these days.   

Saturday morning there was frost on cars and garage roofs.  Col and Jim left well before the crack of dawn to the icy detecting fields of Somewhere Far Away.

Col was at home today. HOLD THE PRESSES - He was not out metal detecting.  And there has been a lot of snow in the Northwest, with people trapped in their cars overnight.  It fell as rain here. So I was very grateful to be chauffered to the meeting and back.

It is going beyond metaphor now as I definitely am in the Winter of my years - my contemporaries, those who are still here, are tumbling around me.  It is so strange. But then, if we accept that Genesis is the true history of us, as Jesus himself did, this was never meant to happen to us. We were made to live forever, not for just a few decades.  And I cannot tell you how quickly three score years and ten (and then some) goes. It is, as the poet said, the flight of the sparrow across the lighted Mead Hall - from darkness into darkness with just the brief interval of life/light in between.

How would I feel now if I did not know the hope the Bible holds out?   So I must get on and keep extending that hope to others, while there is still time.

I talked to Bea and Jacks on Saturday, both are coping with these difficult times.  

The Feathers of the Willow

The Feathers of the Willow

by  Richard Watson Dixon

The feathers of the willow
Are half of them grown yellow
Above the swelling stream; And ragged are the bushes,
And rusty now the rushes,
And wild the clouded gleam.

The thistle now is older,
His stalk begins to moulder,
His head is white as snow; The branches all are barer,
The linnet's song is rarer,
The robin pipeth now.

https://allpoetry.com/Song:-The-Feathers-Of-The-Willow

The above photo is of a Willow moth, taken, of course, by Captain Butterfly.

Suddenly it is late November, rainy on Monday, sunny on Tuesday morning, with a moody sky holding off, and a line of clouds low on the horizon. On mornings like that I like to imagine that we are living on the banks of a mighty river and I am looking across to a range of snow covered mountains on the far side.

What would the river be called - and the mountains? I wonder what the Latin word for "torrent" is - assuming that torrent isn't the Latin word for torrent - only that might work. And would "the High Downland Range" make sense?

Anyway, given that no such river and mountains exist, I should not be wasting my precious energy reserves wondering what they would be called.

But it seems well worth thinking about "the new earth". What will the earth be like after Armageddon? Will it have involved some powerful disturbances of the earth, new seas, new mountain ranges?

I ask because when Noah and his family - from whom we are all descended - set foot on dry land after the Deluge, wouldn't it have been a completely new earth, a changed earth? The familiar landmarks would have gone.  If we will only listen to our Creator, Jehovah, now, then we will be able to ask Noah and his family ourselves one day, as they will be resurrected, woken from the dreamless sleep of death, during the Thousand Years.

On Monday us siblings Zoomed together from our various locations in Oz and Yorkshire and the English Channel. All seems well with everyone. And long may that last in these "difficult times, hard to deal with". John posted a lovely video of a little wallaby in the reserve behind their house. In our travelling days, we always used to go for a twilight walk in that reserve, me being careful to walk behind my brother as he is tall - spiders, large huntsmen spiders, webs across path - shudder.

In the afternoon I made an apple crumble for Himself, and began my studying for the Thursday night meeting. The crumble turned out well, though I say it myself. But once again, it is a reliable recipe, provided - and here is a tip surely worthy of a place in Masterchef - provided that you don't use salt instead of sugar in the crumble.

Believe me. Or rather, believe Captain Butterfly who took a confident dessert spoon of the salt version, before the disaster came to light. Anyway, on the doubleplusgood side, it does give me an excuse to try out each new crumble before I serve it.  I give it a comprehensive test.

The banging upstairs restarted on Tuesday morning... it was heard again intermittently during Wednesday and Thursday, and as yet I do not know what will happen today. It is very early as I finish this blog - the Captain and Jim left ages ago for the Detecting Fields - and it is  a grey and rainy morning.

Turtle Doves

How precious your loyal love is, O God!  In the shadow of your wings, the sons of men take refuge. - Psalm 36:7

This was Thursday's Scriptural thought - and one so well worth meditating on.  And the metaphor of sheltering wings inspired the choice of the Turtle Dove above - taken by Captain Butterfly of course.  (I can use one of my photos if and when the subject of my blog is: lens caps, my thumb, or the strange tilting of the horizon.)

Jehovah not only has loyal love, he is "abundant" in it. He overflows with it.  Think of the generosity of the sunrises and the sunsets - every one a masterpiece and every one different. 

I slept very badly on Wednesday night, so set myself some targets for Thursday, namely to change the bedding and wash the sheets, otherwise I might have done nothing at all.  The struggle with the duvet cover alone exhausts me and I have to lie down afterwards.  And I also made the second fruitcake, this one for Captain B and his lunchboxes.  

The banging and crashing upstairs has started again. We thought we were in for a few months peace as our upstairs neighbours have left for their other home in the sub-continent - they do not like the English winter.  Nor do most people to be fair. I seem to be strange in my love of rain and snow and mist, and all the seasons.

I think their son must have come over to continue the work... Thursday and Friday were days of constant hammering...  Well, at least he is a good son, a loyal one - something precious in this current system of things.  

Saturday I made some veggie curries - I am trying to get back to cooking, but everything is so exhausting now.  On the doubleplusgood side, I got my containers and bag back at the Hall on Sunday, all emptied of cake, and with a thank you card, plus a p.s. that said The marmalade muffins were a particularly big hit!

Really pleased about that as they look so plain, but they are delicious. And they are made, from a Cranks recipe,  with Col's homemade marmalade too.  It is good to be able to give a small something back to the congregation elders, who take such good care of us.

The Kingdom of God is a government that knows and cares for every one of its subjects.  It cares for us and teaches us with loyal love. And it is inviting everyone to come in under the shelter of its loving wings before the moment comes when Jehovah will "bring to ruin those ruining the earth".

Precious Lives

At day-close in November
Thomas Hardy

The ten hours’ light is abating,
And a late bird wings across,       
Where the pines, like waltzers waiting,
Give their black heads a toss.

Beech leaves, that yellow the noontime,
Float past like specks in the eye;
I set every tree in my June time,
And now they obscure the sky.

And the children who ramble through here
Conceive that there never has been
A time when no tall trees grew here,
That none will in time be seen.

https://oxfordsong.org/song/at-day-close-in-november

The seasons do not seem so well differentiated now. This November has been stormy and rainy, but not misty.  It has been beautiful though - the various greys of sky and sea highlighting the Autumn colours. And wonderful sunrises of course.  I will see if I can find a Captain B photo of a recent one to head this blog.

I wish I could manage a poem... especially one that reflected both the sadness that belongs to the world, (Janet Frame), but also the certain hope that we are not abandoned to this.

It is hard not to keep thinking of the tragedy that befell four young lads - so young - who were just off for a weekend's camping trip in Wales.

Jevon Hirst, Harvey Owen, Wilf Henderson and Hugo Morris were four precious sons, who leave devastated families behind them.  They are a loss to all of us.  They set off, happily, up a steep and winding country road, in very bad weather, to their campsite, but skidded and came off the road at what is apparently just the one point where there were no trees to halt their fall, and ended up upside down in a water-filled ditch. The ditch was unusually full because of the heavy rain, the rain which I assume caused the skid in the first place.

There was a silence from then on. No activity on their phones, no activity in cyberspace, which these days is very alarming.  But of course the parents and friends assumed they had found a remote camping spot which did not link up to the internet. But when they did not return on Monday, they hit the panic button.

And the tragedy was discovered.  We heard first that  their car had been found - we assumed parked - but then we heard the air ambulance had gone up. And so we knew it was a crash. And a very very bad one considering the complete silence that had followed it.

It was as bad as it could be.

I only wish that their parents, and all the bereaved parents in a world system that is so full of tragedies and loss could know, will come to know, what Jesus said and did when he met up with a mother who had lost her son.

Soon afterward he (Jesus) traveled to a city called Naʹin, and his disciples and a large crowd were traveling with him.  As he got near the gate of the city, why look! there was a dead man being carried out, the only son of his mother. Besides, she was a widow. A considerable crowd from the city was also with her. When the Lord caught sight of her, he was moved with pity for her, and he said to her: “Stop weeping.” With that he approached and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. Then he said: “Young man, I say to you, get up!" And the dead man sat up and started to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. - Luke 7:11-15

Jesus gave him back to his mother, here on the earth, alive.

And I hope you will notice what Jesus did NOT say to this bereaved mother.  He did not say: "God wanted another little angel in heaven, so he took your son."  He did not say: "But your son is now happy in heaven."

No. He gave that mother exactly what she wanted, her living son, back in her arms, right here on the earth.  And when he did this, he was showing us what he can and will do for us once he is ruling over the earth as the King of Jehovah's Kingdom.  He will resurrect the dead, and re-unite us with those we have lost.

It will be such a joyful awakening.

The beauty of the world, the sunrise and sunsets for example, always lovely, always different, can provide us with powerful reassurance of Jehovah's love and care for us - as will a close study of the Inspired Scriptures, in their accuracy, their harmony, and their beauty.

A Cake Anchor

In my book Disraeli Hall (plug plug) I invented a device called a Cake Anchor that the Victorians used to hold down the wonderfully light sponges they had at their elaborate afternoon teas - to stop them floating off to their ornate ceilings.  It was of no importance to the plot, just a self-indulgent detail that you can allow yourself in a novel, but not in a short story.

The point being that, as I struggled to get my large sackload of cakes to the Hall on Sunday, it occurred to me that I am not the sort of baker who would need a cake anchor in her kitchen - more a heavy duty cake crane.

IF I ever manage another novel, maybe I could invent a Cake Crane, for Victorian ladies who employed incompetent cooks in their stately homes?

Anyway it gives me an idea for a pic for this blog.  It can't be one of a cake anchor of course, as they have not actually been invented. So the pic above is yet another plug for my second book.

And talking of shameless self-promotion, I have another lovely review for Umbrellas of Hamelin, from a real author, who is also a fan of the short story.

She says:

The short story is a genre that has rather gone out of fashion which is a pity, as this collection demonstrates very well its strength as a medium of story telling. Sue Knight demonstrates skill across the range from the very short Talky Tin to the novella length Till They Dropped.

Talky Tin is the perfect short story, a piece of fiction that turns itself upside down at the end. The Martian Goes to a Party and Has a Nice Day is a wonderful example of 'making strange', as we look at our world through the eyes of a Martian visitor who is struggling with the social minefield of a party he can barely comprehend.

Klook and Plukey is a story that seems apparently gentle as two old schoolfriends meet again after a long time, but as with all good monologue-style narratives, the truth about the speaker gradually emerges, a truth that she seems barely able to recognise, but is all too clear to the reader.

Each of these stories is a gem. Highly recommended.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Umbrellas-Hamelin-Sue-Knight/dp/1914060555

I haven't as yet had a bad review. For which I am very grateful.  But that is probably because I don't sell that many books.  IF I ever become a best-seller, then things might be different. And I reckon the best thing to do, what I ought to do,  would be to take any criticism on board, and learn from it.

We have all got plenty to learn, no matter what age we are. And the Book of Revelation tells us that it will take a thousand years for the earth to be restored to the paradise it was always meant to be, and for obedient humankind to be restored to the life and perfection that our first parents so tragically threw away.

But the Bible also tells us that with Jehovah, our Creator, a thousand years is as a day.  And as I am already past - ("well past" I seem to hear Captain Butterfly murmuring from the kitchen where he is flying the coffee machine) - my three score years and ten, I know just how quickly even a hundred years will fly by.  The Thousand Years will go by so quickly - and so happily too. And then our real lives will begin. Our lives were meant to start in perfection, not be the struggle they are now.

I hope I am there to find out how wonderful it will be.  I hope we all are.

A BUTTERFLY CAKE

Thursday morning was very rainy - and I began my cake cookery, making the first stage of the fruit cake. You boil up fruit, sugar and other things and then have to leave it to cool before adding the eggs and dry ingredients.  It is for the Elders School next week. Quite a few of us are providing cakes and biscuits for their tea breaks  - while others are making lunch for them. They work so hard caring for us all - plus they have to earn a living and care for their families - so I hope my cakes turn out really well.   That is, I hope they are tasty. They never look all that wonderful.

I made the second batch of marmalade muffins in the early hours of Saturday morning, as I couldn't sleep and I decided I might as well do something useful.  We tested one - half each - with our lunch.  A very early lunch as we had to get to the AGM.

I dare not let a cake go out untested since the Great Rhubarb Crumble Disaster of 2023 when I used salt instead of sugar in the crumble.  Mind you, it wasn't me who put a large unmarked bag of salt in the cupboard where I keep the sugar...

Today was the AGM of Sussex Butterfly Conservation, where we met up with some old friends, had tea and - cake again. A very small piece for me, as I should not be having cake at all.

And then Cake Saturation Point was reached when we won a Butterfly madeira cake in the raffle!  It is beautifully decorated with sugar butterflies.  So I will donate it tomorrow when I take my homemade offerings to the Kingdom Hall.  "Here is one I made earlier" I could say as I hand the exquisite creation over. But given that Jehovah is the God of truth and straightforwardness, I had better not.

The News is so awful that I watch and read little beyond the headlines.  Brother killing brother the world over, as the disaster set in train in Eden heads to its climax - and, thank God, to its end.

This is the darkest hour before the dawn. And it will be such a wonderful dawn when it comes.  Our elders will be learning how to care for us as the troubles intensify. And, I hope, they will be enjoying all the food we, their grateful congregation, have made for them.

Storm Debi

We were told there was another storm on the way - Storm Debi apparently.  And we woke up on Monday morning to find it had arrived - wonderful waves on the Channel.  I will see if I can find a stormy photo of our seafront to head this blog - one taken by Captain B of course.

Stormy weather, stormy news, as brother continues to kill brother.  Thank God for the truth - Christianity being called "the way of the truth" - and the assurance it gives of real peace coming to the earth.

I had the 5 minute Bible study last week. I was conducting it, my partner was the student.  There was a lot of material, so I had to be selective.  There are going to be some changes to the School next year, which will be interesting. And challenging, especially for me. My special skill is Not Talking to People...  but, with Jehovah's help, all things are possible.

If our Creator was requiring us to witness to the animals, the plants, the furniture, the washing on the line, I reckon I would be a star... I chat to them all the time. But, for me, trying to start friendly conversations with those strange creatures, my fellow human beings...

The Circuit Overseer made a telling point on his visit when he spoke about how Jesus approached the Samaritan woman at the well.  He pointed out he did not introduce himself this way:  "Good morning, I am Jesus, the Messiah, from the Nazareth Congregation" - Cf my approach at the doors. "Hello, I am Sue Knight from the local congregation of Jehovah's Witnesses".

Instead he asked her if he could have a glass of water. Which caught her attention, as Jews did not have any dealings with Samaritans, let alone Samaritan women.

If you read the account in John chapter 4 you will see that Jesus went on to give her such an effective witness that she went straightaway to tell her fellow countrymen about him.

There is a powerful lesson there. Although if I now start turning up on your doorsteps asking for a glass of water, you will know I have failed to get the point.

Sadly the chance of my turning up on doorsteps is receding by the day.  My blistered foot is so painful this morning there is no way I could put a shoe on it.  I did get myself to the Kingdom Hall yesterday, but that has left me unable to put shoes on today.

Thankfully I have no medical appointments this week. I have no medical appointments this week!!    Not to worry, I have plenty coming up before the year's end though. 

It was pouring down on Tuesday morning, big waves on the Channel.  I zoomed with a friend - did a bit of studying, some housework, and made a cauliflower curry. But that was about it.  I feel very anxious about us both at the moment - our age and our health. But I also have to remind myself that every day is a bonus now, and appreciate it, and try  to use it in the right way.

And in harmony with that thought I was invited to join in a Zoom Bible study this morning.  

Poppy Day

It's Remembrance Sunday today - Poppy Sunday we used to call it. It is a day dedicated to all those millions who died fighting in the two terrible World Wars of the last century.

And what did they die for? To bring about peace on earth? Yet aren't we as far from peace as we ever were, if not further? 

I do not wear a poppy myself, but would never try to stop others from choosing to,  And for sure I think about all those young men who were killed, on both sides. And I hope very much they will live again. I hope that Jehovah will wake them from the dreamless sleep of death when the time comes. They will next open their eyes in an earth truly at peace - an earth under the loving rule of the Kingdom of God. And then their real lives can begin.

It will be such a wonderful awakening when it comes, from the horror of war, into the paradise earth.

So I thought I would remember them in four poems - none written by me.

The first was written by a Canadian, Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, in May 1915:

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

    That mark our place; and in the sky

    The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields.

I have not put the last verse in as the conclusion he reaches is not the one I would. But I love the verses above - the poet captures the tragedy of it in a few words.  The horror of the trenches of the first World War - where, I believe this poem was written - is maybe not thought of much now. But it should be thought of today. It was a living nightmare.

So my second poem is one of Rudyard Kipling's about World War 1,  remembering those who were shot - by their own side - for "cowardice" in the face of the enemy. Nowadays we would call it Shellshock.

Kipling wrote:

I could not look on death
which, being known,
men led me to him,
blindfold and alone.

And the third poem is a very brave one by Thomas Hardy. This was written in the early days of WW1 when intense hatred was being fomented between the Germans and the English.

The Pity of It
by Thomas Hardy

April 1915

I walked in loamy Wessex lanes, afar
From rail-track and from highway, and I heard
In field and farmstead many an ancient word
Of local lineage like 'Thu bist,' 'Er war,'

'Ich woll', 'Er sholl', and by-talk similar,
Nigh as they speak who in this month's moon gird
At England's very loins, thereunto spurred
By gangs whose glory threats and slaughters are.

Then seemed a Heart crying: 'Whosoever they be
At root and bottom of this, who flung this flame
Between kin folk kin tongued even as are we,

'Sinister, ugly, lurid, be their fame;
May their familiars grow to shun their name,
And their brood perish everlastingly.'

Source: Thomas Hardy: The Complete Poems (Palgrave, 2001)

Thomas Hardy was not able to believe in a benevolent Creator, but for sure he saw the work of the one the Bible calls "the god of this system of things", Satan the devil. He is the one who sets brother against brother, and has done ever since Cain killed Abel.

Hardy saw clearly that WW1 was brother fighting and killing brother.  And, if we accept the truth of the Inspired Scriptures, that we are all brothers and sisters, the children of Adam, isn't that what all wars are?

So my last poem is an extract from Christopher Logue's "O Come all Ye Faithful"

O come all ye faithful

Here is our cause

All dreams are one dream

All wars civil wars.

Thinking of that "row of crosses" I remember when I first began my Bible study with the Jehovah's Witnesses, and they showed me that the cross is not a Christian symbol.  I saw that it was not, but wondered if it mattered. But then I started to think of all the things that crosses have symbolised down the years - national flags under which wars have been fought; graveyards filled up with the young dead of these wars... and I began to realise that maybe it mattered very much indeed.  It was all part of my waking up - in the spiritual sense.

And I hope that not only will all those slaughtered young men literally wake up - that God will re-create them from the dust of the ground and that they will live again - but also that the poets who wrote so powerfully about the wrongness and sadness of brother killing brother will wake up too.  I hope they will all next open their eyes in the restored earthly paradise, under the loving rule of the Prince of Peace, Jesus Christ.

And I hope we will be there to meet them.

To end briefly on a trivial matter - no disrespect intended - but this is my diary after all, I must note that Col having decided not go Detecting today changed his mind, after a good night's sleep and set off early. So the Sandwich Fairy was nearly caught napping!  Thankfully, I... er, that is she had thawed out some bread, and the cake drawer in the freezer was full. So he has not gone out into the wastes of wherever it is - to my horror I have found it is not on the calendar, so I will have no idea where he went to if he disappears - aaarrgghh - anyway, wherever it is, he has not gone there without his lunch.

The meeting at the Kingdom Hall was as always, in an increasingly troubled world, a godsend, and an oasis of peace.