The Apocalypse Window

I chose this photo of a Glanville Fritillary because of the stained-glass effect of the wings.

Keith and Janet gave me the book APOCALYPSE The Great East Window of York Minster by Sarah Brown.  It is about the restoration and conservation of the Minster's massive east window. Amazing window, amazing restoration, amazing book. Well worth a read by the way.

Col was very interested in the how and the why of the restoration/conservation, I was most interested in how the window depicted the events of the Book of Revelation, (Apocalypse), and how the book itself would depict them.

And I was happy to note that the author took care to point out that Apocalypse/Revelation contains a message of hope. It certainly does as it is assuring us of a restoration of paradise, earthwide.

It shows how the link, so fatally broken in Eden, will be restored:

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

Jehovah will wipe out every tear from our eyes - all causes for pain and suffering will be gone. And then our real lives here on this lovely planet can begin.

The book is beautifully illustrated, showing each window pane, so you can see how the artist depicted the visions in Revelation.

I hope I will make it back to York at least one more time to see the window again.  Now that I understand what all the visions mean - the Bible itself explains them - then I will appreciate it so much more. 

And if you want to know what they mean, what they promise,  there is a brief summary on the website JW.org. Type The Book of Revelation, what does it mean? into "search" and you will find it.

And here is a quote:  Its meaning is positive, not fearful or terrifying to those who serve God. While many associate the world "apocalypse" with great disaster, the book of Revelation begins and ends by saying that those who read, understand, and apply its message would be happy for doing so. - Revelation 1:3; 22:7 

So it is well worth understanding.  

The moth season is underway now, little creatures flying all over the place. The nemesia on our balcony scents the air every morning, and it, the geraniums and the musk are all flourishing.  

Captain B is getting out and about again. I continue my eye regime - drops 8 times a day; gel at night; hot pad twice a day; etc.

The eyedrops are a bit hit and miss when Col isn't here to do them for me.  Still, my arthritic hands and lack of co-ordination means that my nose and cheeks are now seeing very well indeed.

The Loos!

Glastonbury, the Festival, has been on the telly, and Captain B has been recording it and watching bits.  It all looked rather boring to me, but then I am not in touch with the current music scene to put it mildly.  Apparently Elton John went down very well by basically - and wisely - sticking with his 1970s hits.

But all I could think about when I saw the crowds - the immense tightly packed crowd - was this: What can the loos be like?

it does not bear thinking about, so I won't. 

The only crowd I can cope with is at the Jehovah's Witness Conventions, when I am with my brothers and sisters and everything is calm and well-organised. Though it will take a bit of a miracle if I can make it to even one session this year, such are my multiplying health problems.

We - the Captain and myself - have  been watching a fascinating TV series about the Viking conquests of England - specifically by King Canute.  Or Cnut as we would say now. Its called Vikings: Blood Conquest and Kingdom.  What a tragedy human history has been. But also what a good king Canute turned out to be, when he had completed his conquest.

And I was amazed at how young he was and how he and his rival king, the legitimate heir to the English throne, Edmund Ironside, so young too, were such good tacticians.

But so many people, on both sides, died, plus all the poor civilians en route...   Once again, I hope there is a wonderful awakening ahead of them, and they will open their eyes in an earth where, as the Bible promises, there will no-one and nothing to make them afraid.

"Come and witness the activities of Jehovah, how he has done astonishing things on the earth. He is bringing an end to wars throughout the earth..." - Psalm 46:8,9

Astonishing things - an end to war - something that no human government has ever been able to accomplish, to this day.

I must see if I can find a suitably named moth to head this blog...  the Cnut?  the Edmund Ironside? The Elton?

OK - well - the picture above is clearly not a moth, it's from the Fungi Gallery in The Captain's Log (which is linked to this blog).  The tenuous connection is that Amethyst Deceiver (which is what it is) would be quite a good name for a band - one that could well have been from the Seventies.  I am trying to think of a hit song it might have had... but nothing is turning up.  "I'm a fun guy..."?  (sorry)

Saw my young Optician this morning. She says things are improving, though there is still damage, and wants me to intensify the current treatments and see how I am a month from now.

Still alive, I hope.

Swallowtail

Came back after the Thursday meeting to the news that the wreckage of the Titan has been found.  It seems it imploded at depth.  Awful though that is, at least the passengers were not trapped in it, for days,  waiting for the air to run out. It would have been so quick I guess they would hardly have had time to realise it was happening before it was over.  I hope so anyway.

And well done to all for finding the wreckage of a small craft in such a vast ocean and at such a great  depth.

There have been some very unkind and unnecessary comments about this, one apparently from a Guardian columnist.  In the face of the families grief and worry, is this the time, if there ever is a time, for unkindness?

Though, to be fair, isn't the columnist in question a communist/marxist?  And maybe kindness is considered to be "bourgeois", or makes you a "terf", or whatever the current wrong thing to be is.  

I hope the beauty and the complexity of the Swallow-tail moth, found on our balcony on Friday morning (and photographed by Captain B), will reassure all of us that we have a Grand Creator, One who loves his creation and who can remember and resurrect our dead loved ones.

In his poem, In Memoriam, mourning his lost friend, Arthur Hallam, Tennyson found great consolation in the creation.

The new and fashionable Theory of Evolution seemed to have made everything meaningless, but the beauty of the creation helped to bring him back.  And so he ended the poem on this note of hope:

Whereof the man, that with me trod
This planet, was a noble type
Appearing ere the times were ripe,
That friend of mine who lives in God,

That God, which ever lives and loves,
One God, one law, one element,
And one far-off divine event,
To which the whole creation moves.

https://www.online-literature.com/tennyson/718/

The divine event to which all the creation is moving is the restoration of paradise earthwide.

And I hope that Arthur Hallam is safe in God's memory, every hair of his head numbered, and that he will be awoken from the dreamless sleep of death when the time comes.  He will be very very touched when he reads In Memoriam I think

I woke up late on Thursday morning, unusually these days. As it says, in that poetic evocation of old age in Ecclesiastes, "one gets up at the sound of a bird".  I am old, and I am usually up and about at dawn, even if it takes me a while to be able to get showered and dressed.  So it was a bit of a scramble to get ready for my hospital appointment - six monthly routine Rheumatology - to see the nurse this time. She was a nice Filipino lady, who showed us photos of her beautiful and productive garden. She was worried about the possibility of a hosepipe ban.

She said my blood results were fine, for which I am very grateful.

I was thinking about Communism/Marxism on our drive to the hospital as we wended our way through traffic and waited in queues.  

"You see", I said to Captain B, who was chauffering me, "If England was a Marxist State, and you were Big Brother, Comrade Colin, there would be no traffic. The roads would be cleared for us so our motorcade could roar through unimpeded."

"Indeed", he enthused, "I, Comrade Colin, would have the road to myself. Excellent."

"Along with your wife, Comrade Susan." I added reproachfully.

But something about his profile made me wonder if he was considering another Comrade at his side, come the day - Comrade Rachel of Countdown. For sure, it would be the one occasion when she would not be able to risk turning down his proposal.

What a relief it is for both of us - Rachel and me - that he has no political ambitions whatsoever.

TITANIC

The Convergence of the Twain
BY THOMAS HARDY

(Lines on the loss of the "Titanic")


I

In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.

II

Steel chambers, late the pyres
Of her salamandrine fires,
Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.

III

Over the mirrors meant
To glass the opulent
The sea-worm crawls — grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.

IV

Jewels in joy designed
To ravish the sensuous mind
Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.

V

Dim moon-eyed fishes near
Gaze at the gilded gear
And query: "What does this vaingloriousness down here?" ...

VI

Well: while was fashioning
This creature of cleaving wing,
The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything

VII

Prepared a sinister mate
For her — so gaily great —
A Shape of Ice, for the time far and dissociate.

VIII

And as the smart ship grew
In stature, grace, and hue,
In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.

IX

Alien they seemed to be;
No mortal eye could see
The intimate welding of their later history,

X

Or sign that they were bent
By paths coincident
On being anon twin halves of one august event,

XI

Till the Spinner of the Years
Said "Now!" And each one hears,
And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47266/the-convergence-of-the-twain


The poem and the photo of the Titan Triggerfish are because of the missing Titan submarine, with 5 people aboard. They lost communication with it, while it was diving to view the wreck of The Titanic.

It has a good supply of air, and we are all hoping it can and will be found in time.

Thomas Hardy saw, praised and loved the beauty of the creation, but he could not understand the cruelty, the injustice, the terrible things that happened. And, as you can see from the poem, he saw deliberate malice behind the horrors.  So he perceived the work of Satan, who the Bible tells us, is the ruler of the current wicked system of things on the earth.  But he did not manage to find or sustain a faith in a loving Creator, who is coming to our rescue.  Well, not as far as I know.

But I hope he will, when the time comes for the resurrection.  It will be such a wonderful awakening.

I had yet another blood test on Monday, followed by a Shingles jab, followed by a quick shop at Waitrose. Well, it was intended to be quick, but the till was malfunctioning. However, this new thing Col has done in putting my Storecard on the phone did work.

Woke up Tuesday morning to find we had some real rain overnight - water was pooled on The Green, the balcony was soaking wet. We needed it so much. And my Shingles-jab arm is really sore, as are all the joints on that side of my body - so I am limping more painfully around than usual.

My poor old battered immune system probably did not need any more vax to cope with - but, on the other hand, I do not want to get Shingles. What to do?

Oh and re the poem, which is sad and wonderful, I would only want to add this. Sea-worms are beautiful, not grotesque. And I am sure they have feelings and emotions too.  In fact, the more we understand about the creatures of the sea, the more complex and wonderful we are finding them.  And the more we should see the work of our Grand Creator, Jehovah, and be comforted by his promises of a restoration of the peace of Eden worldwide.

And the more awful the whole business of imprisoning the complex creatures of the sea in aquariums and sea-worlds seems.

The fish above is a Titan Triggerfish, living free in the Indian Ocean, and was photographed by Captain B in his diving years.  I don't know how its life turned out, but I hope well.  As we hope SO much for a positive outcome for those trapped on this small submarine.

Michael Blencowe, Alexandra Fuller, Charles Kingsley, and the Gairfowl

Suddenly Charles Kingsley, whose Water Babies I have never read (but now feel I would like to), is turning up all over the place. I have just finished Alexandra Fuller's Travel Light, Move Fast, and she prefaces it with one of his poems, well the first part of it. Maybe she is saving the second for her next book:

Charles Kingsley (1819-1875)

from The Water Babies

WHEN all the world is young, lad,
And all the trees are green ;
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen ;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,
And round the world away ;
Young blood must have its course, lad,
And every dog his day.

https://www.potw.org/archive/potw365.html

And I am also reading Michael Blencowe's stunning GONE Stories of Extinction. Unputdownable, except that you will have to keep stopping to wipe the tears from your eyes. I do want to review it, to try to show why everyone should read this book. But it is going to have to be a review that will do the book justice...

But I do want to say here that Michael ends the chapter on The Great Auk by quoting from Charles Kingsley's book The Water Babies. It was published in 1863 and featured the last Great Auk, the Gairfowl.

“The Gairfowl told her sad tale of vanishing islands, and a once great nation of birds slaughtered, beaten, shot and eaten. ‘This was the Gairfowl’s story”, wrote Kingsley, ‘and, strange as it may seem, every word of it is true.’ The last Great Auk stands all alone; crying tears of pure oil. ‘And soon I shall be gone, my little dear’, she says, ‘and nobody will miss me.’
She was wrong.”

Yes.  

I got out on the doors for the first time for some weeks and managed half an hour. It was hot and I did not feel wonderful, but we had one 20 minute long talk with a very nice and thoughtful lady on the doorstep. It is not something I find easy for many reasons. But that is probably true for all of us. And it is so urgent that people listen to their Creator now. We are all in "the valley of the decision". 

We are so close to the moment when Jehovah will, as promised, bring to ruin those ruining the earth.  And if you don't think we are in the process of ruining it, please please read Michael Blencowe's book. You can also, of course, watch the News.

Obviously, and tragically, Col has never been able to take a photo of a Gairfowl, so I hope the beautiful and dramatic Great White Egret will do.

Please God, we do not lose that too.  

The Privet Hawk-moth - Trigger Warning - it is Very LARGE

There was a Privet Hawk-moth on our balcony this morning. It moved about restlessly, fell off the balcony ceiling, landed on Col's hand, where it seemed quite happy, and was then moved by the photographer himself to a safe perch among the geraniums. Now it has decided to come in (the balcony doors are open, it is hot) and settle on our mirror.  Rather clever really as the camouflage is perfect.  Or would be, if it had settled itself completely on the frame.

Still even the cheekiest bird is not going to fly in here and grab it, so it is safe for the moment.

The mirror used to hang at Nabbs, in the big drawing room, with the grand piano. My sister and I, as children, used to stare at ourselves in it.  Now - can you credit it - it reflects us as a pair of elderly ladies. Can its reflecting powers be wearing out, or, gulp, is something else happening?

It hung at my parents' retirement bungalow. And now it's here. It goes to one of the nephews when we go.  And who knows maybe it will continue into the new system of things on the earth, and my grandparents, if they are to come back in the resurrection, will be re-united with it.

It will give everyone who looks in it the loveliest of reflections then.

I was a householder in the School last night. We were the last part, the Bible study - a 5-minuter - and were discussing the importance of attending meetings, as Jehovah always congregates his people, for teaching and for encouragement.

I wasn't at my best. Heat. Demoralising new haircut, but we got through it.

There was a moment of sadness when rehearsing it on Wednesday though.  Driving back, I passed the little turning that leads to Jackie's and was thinking of how many times we have driven down there, walked down there, and now she is just a voice on the phone.

Brave Lupins

Col did no metal detecting over the weekend, which says that while he is recovering well, he is not fully back on line as yet. So the sandwich fairy was off duty, though that did mean had she to come up with something else for lunch.

In fact she came up with pretty much the usual, chicken vegetable soup, followed by berries and yoghurt.

And I am wondering if I can write a lupin poem... along with the short story about a canal boat.  The short story begins with an empty canal boat, moored up, apparently deserted in a great hurry. Why?

But the lupins... memories... my father's of the scent of the lupin fields of his childhood, and mine of my father's garden lupins... getting that into a Haiku would be quite an achievement, one that even the great Matsuo Basho himself might hesitate over.  I did get the memory of the lupin fields of Belarus into Disraeli Hall, but that was a novel, not a poem.

Lupins, scent, fields, small green garden parasols...  the line  small green garden parasols would work in a poem, as that is what the little shoots turn themselves into.  Seeing them was like being in Fairyland, which (as a child) I always hoped I might find somewhere.

I guess that was the longing that is inside all of us for the paradise garden that was lost - but never forgotten.

It is lost in the past, we cannot get ourselves back into it, as poor Alice found, but it lies ahead for us, here on the earth, if we will only listen to our Creator.

The poem should be on these lines:  Small green parasols, in fields and gardens, in fields in Belarus and then in a Yorkshire garden. So no poem as yet, but I just found this lovely translation of my favourite Basho haiku "Old Pond", and hope it will inspire me: 

old pond.....
a frog leaps into
water's sound

 https://allpoetry.com/Matsuo-Basho

So - I will leap into my Lupin poem, with a great splash, having now realised that the shoots should be parachutes, not parasols, especially as daddy was a para in the war:

The Fearless Lupin

by MatSue Knighto

Green parachutes

no iron curtain

could hold you back

you travelled without

permission or passport

from field to garden

to visit the young country

lad, grown up.

Maybe I could call it a Texan Haiku, as everything in Texas is reputed to be supersized.  

The Scent of Lupins

Col had a metal-detecting Thursday, just like old times, the alarm clock clanging at 5.00 in the morning, and the Sandwich Fairy visiting the fridge.

He is still pacing himself though. He was back early - and he won't be out detecting at the weekend.

On Tuesday we joined the queue at the carpark to get our next Covid jabs. All went well, hopefully, and I got my half hour in the sun just standing in the carpark. In the afternoon I did what I think is my final bit of work for MABLE - the Massive Autumn Book Launch Event by Fantastic Books.  It was an introduction to my collection of short stories that will be published at the event.  Col helped  me, and did the techie stuff, for which I am very grateful.

It is short, but I hope it's interesting.  

We - my siblings and me - would now like to write a sort of memoir of our father, who was an architect.  I am wondering about approaching my memory by using lupins.  

In his childhood, growing up in the fields and forests of Belarus, the farmers used to plant their fields to lupins every few years - maybe seven, I'm not sure. Apparently it refreshed the ground.  And daddy said that as a child he remembers lying in a field of lupins feeling almost drunk from the scent.  I put that memory in my book Disraeli Hall.

He always grew lupins in his garden - a memory of home, I guess.  It was a home he had been exiled from first by war and then by Stalin's iron curtain.

I used to watch for the little green shoots coming up in early Spring in the black earth and then marvel at how some of them turned themselves into perfect little lupins.

In my heart, I knew I was seeing a miracle. But I did not reason on it - not realising that I was seeing the creation telling me of its Grand Creator, Jehovah.  It seems sad - tragic really - that for all the intensive religious education I had at my convent schools never once did anyone point out what the creation is so clearly telling us. I believe I would have responded.

It would have been such a protection too against the bleak and truth-obscuring theory of Evolution, which is promoted so strongly by "the world". And it remains that too, just a theory, and one that is full of holes - which to be fair Darwin himself acknowledged.  But surely all we have since discovered, and are discovering, about the complexity of the creation, is making the veil of Evolution, which is being used to hide the truth of Genesis, more and more flimsy.

The poet Dylan Thomas spoke of "the force that through the green fuse drives the flower".   What is that force?  It is, as the Inspired Scriptures tell us,  the spirit of the Sovereign Lord Jehovah.

The Big Heat continues.  Our Green is rapidly turning into a Sandy-Brown.  And the News is heartbreaking.  The manmade flooding in The Ukraine - I guess the war is responsible, whether it was done deliberately or not - is causing immense suffering, and will go on doing so.  There are massive wildfires in Canada, and we continue to see the increasing of lawlessness worldwide having its tragic effect in our streets.

The Thursday night meeting was an oasis of sanity and loving-kindness in a mad mad world.  

The Balcony in its Summer Splendour

Not that it's quite summer yet of course, but as you see, the balcony is ready - thanks to Captain B and his hard work.  And there was a lovely round yellow moon out over the sea on Saturday night, as we sipped our wine (him) and a decaff coffee (me).

It looks anxious as it looks down. busy with its job of pulling the tides along. But, in the new system of things, in the restored earthly paradise, none of us will have anything to be anxious about.  I have this fanciful idea of the moon sailing along with a big smile on its face.

Let us hope we are all there to find out.

Col's recovery continues, though he did not go out detecting at all over the weekend.  So he is - uncharacteristically - pacing himself, which is good.  But sad too.  We were talking about the past on the balcony the other night - and how quickly life goes.

Keith and Janet have sent me a fascinating book APOCALYPSE, The Great East Window of York Minster by Sarah Brown.  It is all about the restoration of the great stained glass window.

I haven't managed to get near it yet as Col is so interested. He is fascinated by the history of the window and its restoration, but I am hoping it might make him think about what the book of Revelation actually says.

We are living in the events it depicts, so it is very urgent that people do both read and understand it.  Its promise is this, that the link so fatally broken in Eden, will be restored, and that Jehovah "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.”

The "sadness that belongs to the world" will have gone for good.  By the end of the Thousand Years we - IF we are there - will be where our first parents were before they chose to disobey, perfect, effortlessly reflecting the wonderful qualities of our Creator, and living in paradise - the paradise earth.

Then our real lives can begin. And there will be no need for them ever to end. We will be living then, not dying as we are now.

Which could lead me into a saga about my current troubles with my eyes, but I will spare you and end on this paradise note - with the balcony flowers providing a sort of glimpse of paradise, which was after all, a beautiful garden, the Garden of Eden.

Perilaus II by Mark P Henderson

Here is a gold artefact, from the Bronze Age, photographed by Captain Moth-Butterfly. Its relevance to this blog will become clear, if you read on.

He continues to recover - for which I am very very grateful, both to the Creator of life, Jehovah, and to the NHS, which has been splendid.  He even went out a'detectoring on Thursday, though he wisely made it a shorter day than usual.

My own specific medical requirements at the moment are: to re-arrange my cancelled shingles vax, have my next Covid vax (hoping my poor weakened immune system will stand up to all this), and arrange to collect my new glasses. I have picked up my revamped hearing aid after the standard call when they phone to tell me it's ready to collect and I keep saying "I'm sorry, I can't hear you, my hearing aid is away being repaired."

It occurred to me that now, when I am in the middle of Perilaus II, would be a good time to review it as I won't have to worry about spoiler alerts. The interesting questions it is raising are as yet unanswered.  I am waiting in suspense to finish the second half, so I can't give anything away by answering them.

The central premise is that Doug Carmichael, a writer of crime thrillers, finds himself suddenly inside the current thriller he is writing.  His characters are turning up, the murder he has already written has happened - much to his regret, as he now sees first hand the trauma his writing is causing.

This of course is raising all sorts of questions, such as: Can he not write his way out of this and back to the real world?  The answer so far would be that this is not as easy as we might suppose.

And: Should he have written it in the first place?

At one point, the protagonist, whose plot begins to surprise him, says:  "Something had happened that I didn't know. And this was supposed to be my story".

As a fellow author, in a minor way, I can relate to that.  Sometimes characters and stories take on a life of their own, and it does surprise. 

This is not one of these pre-digested reads, you will have to think a bit, and you will also learn something. There is, for example, interesting history/myth attached to the book's McGuffin, the bronze bull - which has also provided an occasion to share the photo of another artefact above. It's a piece of what is called ring money, and there is a mystery about it too, as its function is unknown - the idea of its being money is a speculation.

Perilaus II begins with a sense of menace as for a reason not yet revealed, the writer/protagonist feels he is under surveillance. Of course once he finds himself in the world of his half written thriller, he finds that he IS being watched and followed.  Is he now a suspect in the murder that he wrote?

Mark has some great chapter endings, to keep the suspense going.  And he can be very funny at times.

For example, here is the author in the world of the book, driving a strange car:

"My relationship with the Land Rover encountered teething troubles. Its controls were in unaccustomed places. An elderly Sunday driver in a hat, nodding dog in the back window, challenged my patience. Irritated by her adagio manoeuvres, I bruised my fist on a part of the steering column that was innocent of horn and then washed my windscreen at her."

I plan to return to Perilaus in at least one future blog - especially re Chapter 18, which I have just finished.  In it the author  - book and protagonist - address some of the most important issues facing us.  And interestingly Doug, the protagonist is addressing them to a clergyman - a benevolent character in the book - but who has given him no answers, so far, except for this one, which is accurate: "The Almighty sees a broader picture than we can."

But the Almighty has also told us much more, as he expect us to use the reason he gave us.

I have no idea where Perilaus is going next, and where it is going with the issued raised in this chapter. But I am looking forward to finding out, and hope to say more when I finish the book - while avoiding those spoilers of course.