Zooming

Monday was a day of Zoom calls.  My siblings in the morning, Col and his siblings in the afternoon, and a friend we knew from Planet Expat in the evening.  All the sessions seems to hurtle along, leaving us wanting more.  It is a great way to keep in touch.

Although what is wrong with these Zoom cameras?!  Because on them I look nothing at all like a cross between Kate Moss and Keira Knightley. I cannot understand it.  Someone ought to fix those cameras. ("Or send in a large team of plastic surgeons to fix something else" I seem to hear Captain B murmuring in the background.)

But the friend from Planet Expat, had a strange and alarming tale to tell.  

While out walking her dogs - 2 elderly, 1 middle aged - she was verbally attacked and sworn at by a young man on a mountain bike who nearly ran them all over.  The next thing she knew the Police were knocking at her door, saying that this man had accused her of having dangerous uncontrolled dogs, and that one had bitten him!  The dogs were actually super-controlled as they did not either attack or bite the man who was in their person's face, shouting and swearing at her.  

The Police talked to both her and the ferocious young cyclist and found there was no problem, no dog attack, no bite.  The lad had a small scratch on his leg, but he was cycling in shorts, so who knows where he got it. It certainly was not a bite, nor had he sought any medical treatment for it.  Our friend had had the presence of mind to ask if she could take a photo of it when he suddenly accused one of the dogs of biting him. 

Yet this cyclist somehow persuaded the CPS to prosecute.  Our friend will have to go to court. So in a world full of violent crimes many of which go unprosecuted, it has been decide to devote valuable police and legal time to the case of a young man who may, or may not, have sustained a small scratch from a dog's paw, while shouting and swearing at its person - a pensioner who he had nearly knocked down.

It would make me despair of "the world" if I hadn't already done so.  But what would I be feeling if I did not know about the Kingdom of God?  Total despair, I guess.  I am hoping the friend in question will come to the Special Talk on Sunday.  It will be so comforting. Jehovah is the God of all comfort.

And we are trying to get the knowledge of the God of all comfort into every home, and hope and pray that more and more people will pay attention.

Not that I am doing very well in the field service at the moment.  My crumbling spine is starting to affect me in a lot of unexpected ways, which is making life difficult.  But I have been given a local territory to do, into which I can hopefully make little forays on foot and also send cards and letters.

I paced it out yesterday, just to understand, when I go to Post Code Finder, which bits I am doing and which blocks of flats are included. I guess it was a 20 minutes walk door to door. if that. And it left me hardly able to stand my back was hurting so much.

The painful and undignified struggle of old age continues - but I am so grateful still to be here, and continue to find the gift of life more and more wonderful and interesting every day that passes.

And speaking of the struggle, we spent Wednesday afternoon at the hospital - repeat eye test for Himself.  We won't know the result until the doctor has been able to study them, but the nurse seemed to feel that it may be OK.  Which was encouraging.

The photo above is of our lovely golden retriever Shadow in Saudi Arabia, with a friend, on his regular dog walks to the spray fields.  It was taken by Captain Moth-Butterfly of course. As I may have said before, had I taken it, it would either be a photo of my lens cap, or of my thumb in the spray fields.      

I did managed 35 minutes on the service Thursday morning.  And had a very nice chat with the lawyer, who let me read a couple of Scriptures to him: Proverbs 2:20-22 and Revelation 21:3,4.

He has a law degree, so he has great respect for the legal wisdom in the Bible, in the Law that Jehovah gave to Moses.  So I am hoping he will begin to consider the wisdom contained in every page, from Genesis to Revelation.  I need to find a brother to take with me next time, to see if we can start a Bible study with him.

A Thai Butterfly

When God Painted Thailand

by me

When God painted Thailand

He splashed on golds and reds

Reds and golds against blue sky

As we walked up Sukhumvit Road

God's paint palette flew by.

The imminent return of some local friends to Thailand reminded me of this, which I wrote on our first trip to Thailand, so over 30 years ago I guess. It got me thinking of how amazed I was by it all on our first visit there. How beautiful and colourful it was; the orchids everywhere; the smell of lemon grass and galangal and blossom; and the steamy heat; the taste and texture of fresh coconut. It was our first time in Asia and we had just come from a cold and wintry Hong Kong, so the contrast was amazing.

Sukhumvit road, or rather the Soi off Sukhumvit where our friends lived, was quiet then. You could walk down it, watch butterflies, watch out for snakes, there was blossom everywhere, and in the morning the guy with the breakfast cart would come along selling hot batter cakes.

The next time we went - and every time after (to visit friends) - the Soi was just one traffic jam. The whole of Bangkok was like London, traffic wise. So I am glad we did get one glimpse of the country lane that Soi once was.

I am still feeling very down. Stressed about whether I will get all the short stories accepted, worried about my health, my sister's health, tackling my field service map. I moped around a lot on Sunday, which did not help.

Though I did attend the meeting, in Pixel form. And also made a rhubarb crumble to greet the weary SUSSAR warrior on his return from a day's intensive training.

It turned out well.

The photograph was taken by Captain Butterfly on Sukhumvit', all those years ago. And the butterfly is called a "Painted Jezebel"! Though I have no reason to believe its character was anything other than impeccable. And I hope it had a happy and satisfying life.

Yesterday was a Zoom day. But that is another story for another blog. And a strange and distressing one too.

The March Wind Doth Blow

We woke up on Wednesday to a grey and stormy day - waves on the Channel, the trees in the Gardens blowing in the wind.  No snow as yet though.  And none forecast as far as I know.  Anyway, I love weather, so I am happy. Not selfishly though I hope, as I know most people want sunshine every day.  But if we had that, wouldn't we be living in a desert? The roadworks outside seem to be progressing. There are potholes everywhere, and they do need dealing with, so its good to see them being fixed.

The News itself is dreadful - literally, in that it would fill me full of dread, if it were not for Jehovah's promise that he will "bring to ruin those ruining the earth",  How do those who have not studied Bible prophecies cope with the continuing horrors?

Our Special Talk this year, on the Sunday before the Memorial - which will be held on the 4th of April - is entitled: You Can Face the Future With Confidence. Which is so timely.  

And I did go out on the door to door work on Thursday - doing return visits with a sister. We got some very warm welcomes from people we have not seen for a long time, and gave them invitations to both Special Talk and Memorial.

I am so I glad I went as it energised me, and I managed to do quite a bit of housework in the afternoon, along with my studying for the midweek meeting, and I also got the next batch of veggie soup made.  However, I was also struck down with two very sudden health problems that meant I had to attend the Thursday meeting by Pixel. My arm started to bleed badly - my skin is so thin now, due in part to the meds i have to take. And I either have a violent stomach bug, or something more organic is going on.  

I am wondering if I will soon effectively be confined to home.  Old age really is a struggle, and I am in it.  And losing. 

But this was never meant to happen to us.  We should all have been perfect and living, not damaged and dying, so no wonder it is hard to cope.  I am writing this on a sunny, springlike Friday, while feeling very wintery myself.

But there is so much to hope for. For one thing, if and when old age does overtake me and do its worst, there is this beautiful resurrection promise to rely on:

“Your dead will live.

My corpses will rise up.

Awake and shout joyfully,

You residents in the dust!

For your dew is as the dew of the morning,

And the earth will let those powerless in death come to life." - Isaiah 26:19

Your dead will live.  Jehovah can and will awaken all those who are safe in his memory, safe in "the everlasting arms", and they will see this lovely earth again.   Which it is why it is so urgently important to seek for Jehovah while he may be found. We all need to be safe in his memory, every hair of our heads numbered.

This is on my mind this week as one of my sisters has had a stroke - a very mild one, diagnosed (thanks to her brilliant GP) and being treated. But...

A lot of stress this week.  The metaphorical March wind is blowing.

Editing

Editing my stories is proving a struggle, and Pete also wants me to edit his - the short story I am hoping to include in my collection.  It would be fun if the Publisher accepts it, as with Bea's pic on the cover it will be a real family and friends affair.  Bur, as I have probably said, times are hard for small publishers. And so many others.

Poor Col spent the whole of Monday morning on the phone trying and trying to get a hospital appointment which he needs. I don't know how many different numbers he had to ring, and how many of those interminable phone waits he had before he actually got through, to someone who could help.  Then the phone ran out of charge!  Thankfully he had given the young lady his phone number and, bless her, she rang him back. And he now has his appointment.  But it was a titanic effort to find his way through the system and its delays to the person who could help.

If Col had a photo of an especially baffling maze I guess it would be appropriate as a pic to head this blog.  Actually, if I had ever had a best seller and a mansion of my own, I would have liked to plant a maze. Two mazes: a children's maze made of lavender, and a grown-ups one made of, well, not sure, but a good mixed hedgerow would be both lovely and ecologically sound. 

Once again, maybe, in the restored earthly paradise... who knows?  Could we ever get tired of gardening the earth - caring for the paradise, in perfect health and happiness - no aching backs?  Then we will be able to care for all the earthly creation properly.  It is all we can do to care for our balcony plants at the moment.

Anyway, I have found a lovely photo Col took of the lavender at Bailiffscourt, the year we managed to remember and celebrate our wedding anniversary.  We really ought to celebrate this year...  if we are equal to it.

It will be our Fiftieth.  Will we have 50 more, 500 more, to come?   If you are young, you will find it hard to believe how quickly 50 years goes by.  It is actually a very short time to have with the person you love.

I can understand now that the Thousand Years (spoken of in the Book of Revelation) will go by so quickly, and as they go by all the sadness and suffering of this present system of things on the earth will fade and be gone like a bad dream - never to return.

And before I go, I must mention how much time Col has also spent this week in helping me edit the stories for the book.  He will be in the acknowledgements, of course!

And he will be very glad to get back to his metal detecting tomorrow.

It is a wonderfully grey, rainy and windy morning here. II would write a stormy weather poem if I could, but my poetry writing days seem to have gone.  Which reminds me, I was pleased to see that the poet John Cooper Clarke is the guest in Dictionary Corner this week in Countdown.

Oysters are Off

I am really enjoying Australian Masterchef.  It seems to be a Special that is showing at the moment, with previous winners competing. The standard is so high.  They have very interesting challenges, and they all support each other. 

A photograph of food, a recent cake I made for example,  would be appropriate to head this blog. But Captain B does not photograph food, and nor do I. And even if I tried to, all I would get would be a lot of photos of me looking especially gormless while saying: "How do you work this thing?"

Yes. My Smartphone is still smarter than I am.  

The Great British Menu is also on.  Which I am enjoying.  ("What's for supper?" "Er, baked beans on toast. I've been too busy watching Masterchef and The Great British Menu to cook anything.")

I would never dare cook fish anyway after watching them. Apparently a millisecond over will ruin the fish.

The theme for this year's Great British Menu is the Best of British Animation and Illustration. Which is very inspiring. As I have always loved the Alice books, and their illustrations, I have already worked out my own theme for the fish course, and here it is:

Oysters a la The Walrus and the Carpenter  It would consist of a plate of seafood, with not an oyster in sight.  And it would be served with an apologetic little card saying: Oysters are off. The Walrus and the Carpenter have eaten every one."

If I only had the necessary cooking skills, I reckon that is a course that would make it to the banquet.

So the photograph at the top is one of Col's from his diving days - and of a rather splendid oyster.  Or it will be if he makes it safely back from his day's metal detecting, and can forward the one I have chosen from his blogsite gallery. The older I get, the more I worry about him, and I would keep him safely at home in a box of cotton wool if I could.  

Oysters are now considered food of course, poor creatures - and how cruelly the Walrus and the Carpenter tricked them! - but in the paradise earth, surely they won't be? Will they even produce pearls then, given that (if I am understanding it right) a pearl is created by an immune system response to a painful bit of grit or dirt?

I don't know. But, once again, I hope we are there to find out.  All we can be sure about is that it will be more full of happiness than we can now imagine.

Troubles with Teeth

I am wrestling with getting my next - last? - book ready for publication.  I am trying to move editorial comments from Dropbox to new files that will go to the publisher. It has been frustrating, but hopefully I have got the hang of it and will get it finished this week...

My 6 monthly dental check up and clean was due Wednesday - and I hope I will not have to be giving my next blog the title: More Troubles with Teeth.  Only everything is hurting now - including my poor old teeth.  I badly need the new body, the perfect, living one that only my Creator, Jehovah, can give me. And I am trying to keep firmly in mind what his Messiah, Jesus, did while he was on the earth - how he healed people, completely and instantly.  It is very reassuring.

The photos above are from Col's diving days - Moray eels, with gleaming teeth - probably from The Maldives.

They are usually quite friendly creatures and would allow Col to stroke them.  He said the smaller ones could be a bit aggressive and nippy though.  I expect they have a harder life.

How long ago those days seem.  

Good news from the dentist. He is very pleased with me!  My teeth may not be quite up to Moray eel standard, not quite so gleaming and pearly, but they are OK. And, after all, I don't have to catch my own fish.

All being well, I won't have to see him again for another 3 months.  And I gave him and all his staff an invitation to the Memorial and the Special Talk, along with a thank you card for all their care and kindness.

More Troubles with Trees

 

As I started this blog, early on Saturday morning, Himself having just left with a metal detector at every corner and his box of sandwiches, I was wondering if the enormous tree that had begun to fall had crashed through my sister's roof in the night! And it was too early to phone. She had been told to sleep in the back until the men with the chainsaws could get there.

The sudden and very heavy snowstorm had brought one of the big trees in her drive down. It was only stopped from crashing through the roof by another smaller tree which it had become propped against. Or possibly more grammatically, against which it had become propped.

I came back from the field service, Saturday lunchtime to find a message from Nute on fb to say that the tree had fallen while the tree surgeons - who had come out asap as hoped, God bless them - were working on it. And, as can happen, it had fallen in an unexpected direction and had crushed the cherry picker!  Thank goodness no-one was in it at the time.

Their cherry-picker is a write-off though. I hope hope hope they have a decent insurance policy, as they cannot work without it.

Well, it was a relief to be at the meeting at the Kingdom Hall on Sunday morning, learning and being re-assured about the paradise earth to come - an earth which will be under the loving and perfect control of the Kingdom of God.  I am feeling somewhat stressed at the moment as all of sudden it looks like my next, and probably last, book will be published this year and I am trying to liaise and get everything done, without it compromising my witnessing. I am pioneering this month, for the first time ever, and we started the Memorial invitation campaign yesterday.

Another of Ken Reah's lovely paintings of Sheffield trees heads this blog.  And, while on the subject of trees, this is a quote from the online Guardian's review of the new David Attenborough series, which started last night:

We see the oldest oak tree in Britain, which has been standing for 1,046 years and so predates the Norman Conquest. Wild Isles makes many claims for these isles’ exceptional nature, from the mighty oaks to the chalk streams that are one of the rarest habitats on Earth. There are only 200 or so of these mineral-rich waters in the world and 85% are in southern England. We see kingfishers, tawny owls and badger cubs. A segment dedicated to how the common lords-and-ladies pollinates is surprisingly intricate and absolutely stunning.

https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2023/mar/12/wild-isles-review-david-attenborough-beautiful-tour-of-britain-is-unmissable-tv

Surprisingly intricate?  Not really, given the Grandness of the Creator of it all, Jehovah.  And it is a paradise-like arrangement in that, rather than being predatory, it benefits both insect and flower.  So much of nature is now "red in tooth and claw".  But some of it is still probably as kind as it was in Eden.

The Guardian critic rightly calls it unmissable TV, but notes, as the programme itself does, the tragedy of the message, that we are ruining these beautiful wild isles.  Which of course made me think of Jehovah's promise that He will "bring to ruin those ruining the earth".  Isn't it clearly beyond the power of any human government to put this right?

This review also reminds me how short our lives are now.  As the book of Job says: "Man, born of woman, is short-lived and filled with trouble. He comes up like a blossom and then withers away."

That tree has lived for over a thousand years. But we, the damaged children of Adam, only last for a brief season, as the blossom does.  It feels so wrong, because we were made to live forever.  And Jehovah is holding out that hope, of life forever in the Paradise earth, to every one of us now.  Will we accept?

We are all in "the valley of the decision". 

 Firstly, what a precious, intricately-made jewel the earth is; and secondly, that the whole world system 

Talky Tin

On yesterday's drive to Arundel to the Wetland Centre Gift Shop to buy a pressie for Rob and Cat's imminent baby, I noticed that Lobbs Wood is once again full of daffodils, and I found a photo from a previous spring in the Captain's blog gallery.

I am hoping to have one more book published - a collection of short stories. IF my young publisher will do it. Times are hard in the publishing industry and they have to concentrate on what will sell and I am so very far from a best-seller. On the other hand, readers have been asking when my next book will be coming out, so I hope I will soon be able to give them an answer.

And I had some very good news on Monday. I got this email message: Your entry to our 2021 Flash Fiction competition, TALKY TIN, has been shortlisted and will appear in the anthology we aim to publish in the autumn. The competition procedure was delayed by the covid pandemic and the final judging is yet to take place. We will announce the winners as soon as the process is completed.

I had forgotten I had entered it, so it was a lovely surprise. The bio is done, and it has to be very short as the story is very short indeed. It was inspired by our fierce Arabian cat, Whites. He was a character and a half.

He is buried in one of our Saudi gardens, with some flowers, so if anyone ever finds him, they will know he was loved. Will I ever see him again? I don't know, but Jesus did assure us that his Father, Jehovah, sees the fall of even the smallest bird. So his Creator knew and loved Whites - and therefore who knows?

I hope to be there to find out.

It is many years since I appeared in an anthology. And then it was with a poem. I would love to write a Haiku about the grey sky, the calm grey sea, with one little fishing boat making a wake across it - just capture the whole thing in a few words. But... sea/grey/still/boat/green... something about the boat leaving a white trail across the water would suggest the calm of the Monday sea. But that is as far as I have got.

Talking of weather, the North of England is now blanketed in snow. But it has not reached us here on the South Coast.

There was an attack, with fatalities on a Kingdom Hall in Germany last night - sounds like it came just at the end of the mid-week meeting.  As yet very little is known about what happened, beyond that it seems that the attacker is also dead, and by his own hand.

So yet more families are faced with tragedy.  But I know my German brothers and sisters will continue to trust in Jehovah with all their hearts and to believe that they will see their lost loved ones again when the time comes for the resurrection.  But this is such a sad morning for them.

Troubles with Trees

Storm Otto wreaked some havoc in Sheffield, and it felled a large tree near Nute's house, seriously injuring one man. It also put out the electrics for quite a while.

And the troubles continue. From Nute's facebook page:

 I was waiting for a meeting to start yesterday morning when clonk, my internet vanished. Lights on the router suggested this wasn't the usual router-going-on-walkabout issue, (easily solved by an electronic boot up the bum) but more of entire-telecoms-for-the-area-obliterated. It was a particularly important meeting, and due to start in about 20 minutes.

I wandered to the front gate and sure enough, there was a disconnect of BT Openreach engineers with their vans parked all over the road, one in a cherry picker, the rest leaning against the telegraph pole, drinking coffee, eating their sandwiches and generally enjoying the clear skies. I approached with caution - BT Openreach engineers are notoriously skittish, and if you upset them, the whole disconnect can leap into its van, vanish and not come back this side of Christmas.

I tried, 'Is the internet down?' and they agreed that it was. The fallen tree had damaged the pole, and they were replacing it - when they'd finished their coffee and sandwiches. I stepped a bit further out on the wire. 'Um... how long is it likely to be out?' For some reason they found this question hilarious. The one in the cherry-picker nearly fell out and the ones on the ground clanked teacups at my wit. Then I over-stepped the mark. 'Only I've got a meeting, and a bit of warning would have...'

I could see them gathering themselves for the van leap, so I hastily switched to 'Never mind. It's fine. Fine,' whilst retreating at speed.

I went back to my desk and did what I should have done in the first place: set up a phone hotspot and used up all this month's data in one fell swoop. At some stage during the day, the internet came back.

I just hope that the poor guy who was seriously injured is making a good recovery. But I am very impressed at my sister's ability to set up phone hotspots and such technical things. While not quite as old as I am (and indeed, who is?), she is not young either. We are children of the Times Tables and the abacus beads, not of the computer.

And it set me wondering about communication post Armageddon, when the present wicked system of things on the earth has been destroyed as completely as it was in Noah's day. Wondering, not worrying though, as while Noah and his family emerged from the Ark into a world still ruled by Satan, one in which the Messiah had not yet appeared and the ransom had not yet been paid, the post-Armageddon world will be run by the loving and perfect heavenly government, the Kingdom of God. And all of us who have chosen to be under its rule know how well it cares for us, even now, in an imperfect world, full of imperfect people.

I did get out on the field service on Saturday morning, and once again was saved from the Roundabout of Terror, this time by kind young sister who drove me there and back. We found some people in and had a couple of good conversations on the doorstep. And at one house a large Alsatian (German Shepherd) shot out, her owner in hot pursuit. "Don't worry, she's very friendly", the owner reassured us. And thankfully she was.

I managed to stay awake all Saturday afternoon (quite an achievement these days) and got a rhubarb crumble made, plus a veggie soup. And I did my Watchtower study for Sunday. The crumble turned out really well - almost as good as the crumble served at The Fat Cat!

We were thin on the ground at the Kingdom Hall on Sunday. I think a lot of us are ill. The two years of lockdown have probably zapped our immune systems.

The photo above is of a painting of the trees of Sheffield, in Endcliffe Vale Park, by the artist Ken Reah, my much loved and missed brother-in-law.

The Sadness of March (not helped by a Flare-up, right knee)

Beeny Cliff  by  Thomas Hardy

O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea,
And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free –
The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me.

The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed far away
In a nether sky, engrossed in saying their ceaseless babbling say,
As we laughed light-heartedly aloft on that clear-sunned March day.

A little cloud then cloaked us, and there flew an irised rain,
And the Atlantic dyed its levels with a dull misfeatured stain,
And then the sun burst out again, and purples prinked the main.

- Still in all its chasmal beauty bulks old Beeny to the sky,
And shall she and I not go there once again now March is nigh,
And the sweet things said in that March say anew there by and by?

What if still in chasmal beauty looms that wild weird western shore,
The woman now is - elsewhere - whom the ambling pony bore,
And nor knows nor cares for Beeny, and will laugh there nevermore.

After Thomas Hardy's wife Emma died, the happiness of their courtship in Cornwall came back to him vividly, and he wrote a series of beautiful poems, under the heading "The Ashes of an Old Flame".

I have always loved those poems since I first came across them - and feel so sad that their marriage ended in unhappiness.  And of course this poem reminds me of the wild Cornwall of the 1950s, with its empty beaches, and also of my own parents - then happy young marrieds, now long gone, returned to the dust of the ground from which they were created.

If they are held safe in God's memory - in "the everlasting arms" - every hair of their heads numbered, I can hope that I will see them again. when the time comes for the rescurrection.

The photo is of a Beadlet anenome - from our local rockpool on our not very wild shore.  It was taken of course by Captain Moth-Butterfly, my resident photographer and computer expert.  It is the March photograph on our 2023 calendar.

One of the first things my sisters and I looked for at Praa Sands in the 1950s were the red anenomes in the numerous rockpools on the splendid and (back then) empty beach. Looking into the rockpools was like looking into Fairyland.  When you are a child you see that the world is full of miracles, full of wonders.  Then "the world" (the current system of things on the earth) will do all it can to make you forget.

Yet the Grand Creator is everywhere evident in His creation.

I talked to the siblings on Monday in our now usual Zoom session, and all seems well.  We also exchanged ideas about what to watch. John is recommending a Japanese series, currently on Netflix, called The Makanai - Cooking for the Maiko House

And I am appreciating Nute's recommendation of The Big Bang Theory, which alas is now coming to its end.  Not only have Sheldon and Amy got their Nobel prize, but the lift has been repaired. THE LIFT HAS BEEN REPAIRED!

Thus ends an era. So many great moments, but just to mention one: Sheldon explaining the meaning of the word "mansplaining" to Amy.  Brilliant.   I only wish I had thought of that.

The first day of March was neutral as far as Lions and Lambs went. It was a sunnyish but cold Spring day, and the sea was calm - so neither lion nor lamb.  There is some colder weather on the way apparently but I can deduce nothing about the way March will end from its beginning.

On Thursday my right knee was so painful it was hard even to hobble about. I had one panic moment thinking I might not be able to get myself out of bed, but all was OK. And I do have a zimmer right by the bed for these emergencies of old age (and arthritis).