The Story I did not Write

The festive day itself ended, unexpectedly, with a dog
fight. At least we have learnt that two of the family dogs can't be in the same room together. We had been trying to introduce them to each other gradually and we thought it had been going well.  Clearly the dogs thought differently. It has made me wonder about how everyone else's day went.

And also I was thinking about the story I did not write. I have no idea what it would be about but it would be called: Miss Milton Paled.

It would have been inspired by something in one of Richmal Crompton's William stories, one in which William is taking part in a village pageant organised by Miss Milton, the Sunday School teacher.

She is assigning each small child the part of a bird, and writing a little rhyme to go with it. William is given the part of the Tom Tit, and this is his rhyme:

Around the garden

I do flit

Tom Tit I am

I am Tom Tit.

William, unsurprisingly, is not too keen on this.  He tells Miss Milton he wants to be a vulture, and will write his own rhyme, thus:

I swoop down upon 'em,

and then

dead men I eat 

I eat dead men.

whereupon:   "Miss Milton paled"

What could the story be?  Sadly, if I wanted to have a blockbusting best seller, I should make it a gore-fest and title it Miss Milton Impaled.

As I have no intention of doing that, I guess the story will never get written.

But, to end on a more positive note, will I meet Richmal Crompton one day - if Jehovah remembers us and wakes us from the dreamless sleep of death when the time comes?  If so, I will be able to tell her how much I loved the William stories.  I don't know how many hours I spent in the 1950s in various cosy corners at Nabbs Cotttage, bookworming over a William book.

You will see that I made more of a Violet Elizabeth Bott choice for the blog photo than a William one, as it is a long tailed tit, not a vulture - even though I am sure I could find a vulture in the Captain's archive.  But I went for pretty.  Vultures are beautiful, in their way, and very useful birds too, but not exactly chocolate-box pretty.

"And neither are you lady!"  did I hear our local vultures chorus from, well, it would be the local safari park I suppose?

I hope we are all going to make it into the year 2025. We are nearly there. And we are now one year nearer to the coming of the Kingdom of God to rule over the earth and restore it to the paradise it was always meant to be.

How much we need that restoration.

QUAIL

It has taken me a long time to really start to get to grips with advice from my shepherding visit, and to start to read the Bible daily, consistently.  I do read it all the time, in that I follow the weekly schedule for the congregations worldwide, but this is my own separate reading, beginning at Genesis 1:1, which tells us with unique clarity: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth."

I am doing a chapter a day, and taking it slowly and carefully as the brothers advised.  There is so much in the Bible. So much in the first chapter of Genesis for example.  Bear in mind that I had an intensive religious education at my convent school, and also later attended a small Protestant Church that sincerely would have regarded itself as fundamentalist, but it wasn't until I began to study the Bible with the Jehovah's Witnesses that I found that the answer to one of the questions I had had for so long was right there - in the very first chapter of Genesis.

The question was, why, if there is a God who is almighty and all good, nature is "red in tooth and claw with ravine"?  Why would a loving God have created it that way?

Wondered about it for nearly 40 years, until those two JWs called.  And there the answer was in Genesis - He did not create it that way! 

"Then God said: “Here I have given to you every seed-bearing plant that is on the entire earth and every tree with seed-bearing fruit. Let them serve as food for you. And to every wild animal of the earth and to every flying creature of the heavens and to everything moving on the earth in which there is life, I have given all green vegetation for food.” And it was so. After that God saw everything he had made, and look! it was very good..." - Genesis 1:29-31

This was not a world full of the hunters and the hunted, not a world where nature was "red in tooth and claw".  It was paradise, a paradise of peace. But it was lost.  And we, along with the animal creation - the blameless animal creation - are still living in the tragedy of that lost paradise.  Which is why we need God's Kingdom to come to restore the peace and joy of paradise worldwide.

And the Bible also contains a promise that carefully details that restoration.  If you look at the context of this, you will see that it refers to the time when God's Kingdom, with Jesus at its head, is ruling over the earth:

 The wolf will reside for a while with the lamb,

And with the young goat the leopard will lie down,

And the calf and the lion and the fattened animal will all be together;

And a little boy will lead them.

 The cow and the bear will feed together,

And their young will lie down together.

The lion will eat straw like the bull.

 The nursing child will play over the lair of a cobra,

And a weaned child will put his hand over the den of a poisonous snake.

 They will not cause any harm

Or any ruin in all my holy mountain, because the earth will certainly be filled with the knowledge of Jehovah

As the waters cover the sea.

- Isaiah 11:6-9

This does not explain why this blog is headed Quail, and now there isn't time, but I hope to get back to it, and it has given me a nice photo (from Captain Butterfly of course) to head the blog.  But it all comes back to the shepherding visit, when the brothers (the shepherds) read me a short account of the quail Jehovah supplied to the Israelites in the desert. And what they did, and what happened next.

When you actually stop and look into the details of the short account, you see why Jehovah had it recorded and preserved for us.  We can learn so much about relying completely on Jehovah, on knowing that he can and will support all who exercise faith in him.

So I hope to get back to it.

Another Year rushes towards us

 

Good Riddance, But Now What?

By Ogden Nash 

Come, children, gather round my knee;
Something is about to be.
Tonight’s December thirty-first,
Something is about to burst.
The clock is crouching, dark and small,
Like a time bomb in the hall.
Hark! It’s midnight, children dear.
Duck! Here comes another year.

From Read Me 2: A Poem For Every Day Of The Year

https://www.panmacmillan.com/blogs/literary/new-year-poems-auld-lang-syne

Funny, sad and very much to the point, given the state of the world at the moment, though I will be glad and grateful indeed if we both make it into 2025 and beyond.  

But isn't what we want to enjoy life forever, in  the restored earthly paradise... who could ask for more, for all of us?   And given that two thousand years ago, our Creator promised us that he would "bring to ruin those ruining the earth", isn't the restoration of paradise so close now?  Is it exaggerating to say that we are in the process of ruining the earth, the very planet we live on?

I will try to find a paradise like picture from Col's photo gallery to head this blog.  There is a lot of scope there, but I settled on this lovely and interesting one from one of our trips to the paradise-like island of Bandos in the Maldives.  Which I hope you will like.

The island inspired my first book Waiting for Gordo.  The protagonists are me and the Captain - as Miranda and Jim. Which is why I have such a wimpy heroine, and had to supply a brash Hollywood one, in the shape of the tiresome Miranda.  Just in case Hollywood wanted to snap up the book for a blockbusting movie.

It didn't, by the way.

Wolf Hall, the Mirror and the Light

We have now watched the final part of the Wolf Hall trilogy - Hilary Mantel's brilliant evocation of the court of King Henry the Eighth.  So it seems yet another occasion to puff my own book Disraeli Hall.  I had written and named it before Wolf Hall came out by the way - but it took me years to find a publisher.

I would not have copied her book title, as I am not sure my own writing can stand up to being compared with Hilary Mantel's. Well, I know it can't.

Anyway, The Mirror and the Light ends - and I hope I do not have to say "spoiler alert" here - with the death of Cromwell.  They did not, thank God, make the death as terrible as they could have.  And they leave him with a vision of the paradise earth - the earth in which I hope he will wake up when the time comes.

It will be such a wonderful surprise for him.  

I just want to say what a brilliant adaptation it was.  Each hour long episode flew by. The cast was excellent, with Mark Rylance every bit as good as the critics say. And what a great choice Damian Lewis was for Henry himself - he showed the charisma and the danger. What a tragedy human history has been since the loss of Eden.

Watching it, I was wondering if one day we - the Captain and me - will get to meet the protagonists. Will they all be resurrected during the Thousand Years and live on this lovely planet again?  

I know some of them were very scary, and some (apparently) so nasty and devious that the thought of them coming back is troubling.  But we are assured there will be a resurrection of both "the righteous and the unrighteous", so who knows?  And there will be nothing to be afraid of anyway when God's Kingdom is ruling over the earth.

The thing to do is to concentrate on being there - on doing Jehovah's will.  It makes things so much better right now - even in this difficult difficult system of things.

Captain B had a great find while out a'detectoring on Thursday.  He was walking back to the car at the end of the day with Jim and, being the Captain, detecting as he went, and he found a bronze Roman brooch!  Hopefully it will inspire him to another blog and then you will be able to see it (via the link to The Captain's Log), if you want.

Miracles

Here is Durrell, in an unpublished scrap of memoir, on the four years he spent as a child in prewar Corfu. “Leaf to bud, caterpillar to butterfly, tadpole to toad or frog, I was surrounded by miracles. I was surrounded by magic as though Merlin had passed through and casually touched the island with his wand.”

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2024/dec/11/myself-and-other-animals-by-gerald-durrell-review-hidden-gems

That reminds me of an early childhood memory, that I may have blogged before.  I must have been four years old. We, us children of the post WW2 baby boom years, were playing hide and seek in a hay meadow, right next to our council flats. We played out all the time then, and must have driven the poor farmer, trying to make a living, mad.

I can remember lying there in a forest of tall grass, watching the insect life going on around me, wonderful colourful little creatures, all so busy with their lives.  I felt as if I was in the Fairyland of my story books. So the wonder of the creation got right to my heart.  I saw it for the miracle it was.

But then, as time wore on, I was in "the world", and was taught at school that we found God in Church - in interminable and boring Latin masses - and that in any case Genesis was just a "creation myth". 

In contrast, my parents always loved the beauty of the creation, and gave up on mass and church.

It wasn't until I was in my late thirties that I began to seek for the Creator of it all.  And Jehovah let me find him. As he will to all who seek for him.  But it is urgent to do it now.

The photos above are from Col's gallery - a Spotted Fritillary caterpillar and its butterfly.  What else is that transformation but a miracle in plain sight?

The weather continues overcast, on the whole, and damp - and too warm for the time of year.  

And today - talking of miracles - I am visiting a long time call of Jean's who has said that she would actually like to start a Home Bible Study.  I am hoping that she does mean it, as we had been calling on her for many years, and I had kept in touch since Jean fell asleep in death.

Jean would be so thrilled to know this.  

A Facebook Post - Not Mine

Though I try to avoid Christmas as much as possible, I do respond to the cards we get, with a card, or a letter, or an email, or a postcard.  We have had some moth cards made from the Captain's photos, and one of them is of the splendid Jersey Tiger Moth above. It is a good way to keep in touch with family and old friends.  I have just had a card from Elizabeth who I have known since we were both 5 years old.

This is a recent facebook post from my sister.  It made me laugh, and I think it's an excellent illustration:

Sometimes, dealing with older teens and young adults (and I speak as a teacher, parent and grandmother) is a bit like watching someone getting bored with, for example, driving on the ordinary road:

Young Adult: I know! I'll go this way!
Old adult: Erm... That's not a road. And there's a cliff. THERE'S A CLIFF!
YA: It'll be fine!
OA: Brakes! Brakes! BRAKES!!!!
YA: It'll be fine. I'll put some wings on the side.
OA: But you don't know how to... Left! Go left! LEFT!
YA: It'll be fine! I'll learn how to do welding and get my pilot's licence...
Almighty splash, sounds of car coming to bits, some groaning followed by a thoughtful silence.
YA: Er... I need some money for repairs.
OA: But I told you...
YA: Oh stop going on about it. You never let me make my own decisions. I'm an adult now. *flounces off*

Not feeling wonderful - my crumbling back is giving me all sorts of problems (believe me, you do not want to know) - but then I am far from my adolescence.  And no matter how wonderful it would be to be young again and free of pain and worry about my health, I would not go back unless I could go back knowing then what I know now.

And isn't that what the Bible promises, life and perfect health, retaining all we have learnt now, and of course always learning.  And being taught by Jehovah is nothing like being back at school by the way. 

At least I did manage to make the fruit cake. It is cooling in its tin as I am doing this blog. I think I have overcooked it a bit, but I usually think that, and it is usually OK.  It is a cake that pays for keeping, as it has sherry in it. And Captain B enjoyed  the tester slice I gave him, which is the important thing.

I took this from our Examining the Scriptures daily last week, as a reminder to me to thank Jehovah for the way he is teaching millions of us, from every tribe and nation and tongue, to live in peace as the brothers and sisters we truly are - which in a world full of increasing hatred and division is a miracle, in plain sight:

Also, let the peace of the Christ rule in your hearts, for you were called to that peace in one body. And show yourselves thankful. - Colossians 3:15

The Green and the Grey

Winter is damp and rainy so far down here in the South, and nowhere near as cold as it should be.  I found a moody seaside shot from Col's photo gallery to head the blog. They had snow in the North. Wednesday, as I am starting this blog, it is overcast outside, and the English Channel is calm and grey.  Early morning, 8:34 as I am typing this, the greens and greys look both soft and intense - I wish I cold find the right words to describe it in a poem.

layers of green and grey/through the grey squares of the balcony railings/fronted by the red of the geraniums, subdued by the grey morning/the layers of sea and sky separated by a tiny fuzzy line of blue/no sign of sun/except that morning HAS come.

It ought to be possible to make a poem out of that, and also angle it so that it is also about the last month of the year, and, gulp, the last month of life.  However...

On a more prosaic note, Col is working on my Blue Badge application. I have just pulled my medical file so he can send in a load of documents listing my conditions.  And that, believe me, is a lot of paperwork.

I only hope all the time and money being spent on me is worth it.  I have produced some very readable books (well, so my readers tell me) - but, lets face it, the world has plenty of books already, with loads more in production. And while I am doing the most important work there is, the Kingdom preaching work, that work goes on whether I do it or not.  As Jesus himself, said, if necessary, the stones would cry it out.

It is a privilege, and also one that trains us for the great preaching work to be done during the Thousand Years, as surely most people who have lived and died knew very little, if anything, about their loving Creator and his purposes.

Today, Thursday, it is overcast again, and not nearly as cold as it should be for the time of year.  Col left very early for The Field, and I am busy making a large fruit cake. I use a boil and bake recipe from a Cranks cookbook Col bought me eons ago.

I make the hot mixture - the dried fruit, the butter, the sugar, the orange juice etc in the morning - and once it has cooled down enough, I will add the eggs and  the dry ingredients, which I am off to do right now.

I used to make two, one for the AGM of Butterfly Conservation when I was the Membership Secretary for the local branch.  Like all my cakes it is sturdy, not elegant, but was always popular, went to the last crumb.

But now it takes me all my time to make one which I must now go and do, as I said.

The Mystery of the Manifestation in the Lift

Sunday morning was very blowy, and cold, with rain threatened, and Col kindly chauffered me to the Kingdom Hall. I am so shaky on my feet now that I had my stick with me.  He walked down the stairs,  I got the lift.  

I was alone in the lift, yet, strangely, reflected in the polished door was the hand of an old lady, resting on a walking stick.

Where did she come from?   There was no-one else in the lift.  Maybe one of my readers can solve the puzzle... or maybe I would rather you didn't.

Quite sunny here today, so far, and we are in the process of signing what we hope will be the final document in the sale of our rental flat.  Our neighbour across the hall kindly witnessed it. I hope we are doing the right thing, but our tenants have wanted to buy it for quite some time, and it will simplify our lives. 

It seems that yet another country is descending into chaos, as the Syrian government falls.  I can only hope that it turns out well for the people, especially of course my Syrian brothers and sisters.  But what so often follows revolution/rebellion?  Something even worse maybe?  And didn't the tragedy we are all of us living in now begin with a rebellion, the rebellion in Eden, when our first parents were persuaded to rebel against their loving Creator and set their own standards of good and bad?

I will see if I can find a picture of a beautiful garden to head this blog, to remind us of the garden our first parents lost, but which we still long for.  And hopefully to remind us that it lies ahead, when the whole earth is under the loving rule of the heavenly government, the Kingdom of God.

The photo above is one Col took when we visited Arundel Castle at tulip time, with Nute - some years ago now, pre-Lockdown.

How lovely is that?  So how lovely is the earth going to become during the Thousand Years during which the whole earth becomes a paradise garden - a garden of peace, no more wars, and nature no longer "red in tooth and claw". And then, what?

Can we all please search for our Creator, Jehovah, now, and be there to find out and to enjoy our lives forever?

And to end on what may seem a trivial note, we will all be able to take the lift - should we need them then - without any fear of the hands of old ladies materialising in the reflective doors.  We will be perfect and living then, not damaged and dying as we are now.  

Storm Darragh

Storm Darragh began yesterday evening and was raging during the night.  This morning our seaward view showed both clouds and sunshine and a wavy Channel while the landward view was of our garden trees swaying against a dark sky.

I must find a stormy photo of our beach to head this blog.

The Captain has wisely cancelled both his Saturday and Sunday expeditions to The Field.  Or it may be that The Field was closed.  Unfortunately the Sandwich Fairy was not advised in time and there are now two boxes of cake and sandwiches in the fridge.

I am reading The Running Grave, which is the latest Strike book (by Robert Galbraith, aka J. K.Rowling).  Well, I think its the latest.  It is certainly one I have not read yet.  It is getting off to a cracking start, with a vulnerable student getting caught up in a powerful and sinister cult.  

The title comes from this quote from Dylan Thomas: "When, like a running grave, time tracks you down."

Yes. Alas, we are dying from the moment we are born, damaged children of Adam that we are all are, and at my age - in my seventies - time is hurtling along.  Or in Thomas' powerful image, the grave is running at me.  I had my Rheumatology appointment yesterday, driven through a sunny December morning by the gallant Captain Butterfly.

"How old are you, if I may ask" said the young doctor.  My attempt at "39" nearly made the young medical student in attendance fall off his chair laughing. Back to Beside Manners School for him!

However, talking of bedside manners, I was asked whether I was happy with the student being there. And as long as I am asked, I always say yes.  They have to learn after all.

It was fortunate that I had a week's worth of blood pressure results with me, to take to my GP on the way back, as the BP the nurse took was alarmingly high.  Being in hospitals is so stressful. Anyway, she was reassured when she saw the results, which were OK - except for one morning after a night of severe arthritis pain.

And it turns out I am becoming more confused. The blood tests I had done were, for Dermatology (I did not even know they needed them). But the paperwork system seems to have changed re my arthritis appointments and I think I will need to put in a reminder to myself in my May 2025 calendar to chase up my next appointment, along with a blood test form.

Though whether I will still be here in May 2025, who knows?  If the frightening possible side-effects of my crumbling back have come into play by then...  

I need to think about the Kingdom of God, and the amazing prospect of perfect health that lies ahead.  So I hope to do my Watchtower study today, my Bible reading, and catch up with Bruce in SA.  Plus email Bea to ask about how her health is going. Hopefully the answer will not be "downhill".

The Scarlet Waxcap

 

We chose a photo of splendid Scarlet Waxcaps for our last Calendar pic of 2024.  The theme of our 2025 calendar is Moths.

The idea of going out mushrooming in the Autumn is lovely - well, assuming I was still capable of walking through woodland...  I think its called "tree bathing" now, but even when it was plain old "walking through the woods" I liked it.  But it has always seemed too risky to pick wild fungi, as even experts can make mistakes, and those mistakes can so easily be fatal.

At least, with the waxcap, I assume that the colour is saying DO NOT EAT ME!!!!  

As I have probably said before, one of the many things I look forward to during the Thousand Years is collecting fungi for supper in the woods of Autumn.  Autumn can be so lovely even now, so how lovely will it be then. And, under the loving care of the Kingdom of God, there will be no chance of mistakes.

And what will it be like after the Thousand Years,when paradise has been restored earthwide, and everyone is at the same starting point of perfection that our first parents had, but lost? What will it be like knowing we can live forever on this lovely planet, with unnumbered seasons ahead of us... and new things too - things we cannot even conceive of now?

May we all be there to find out.

In the meantime, how quickly 2024 has gone. It has hurtled by, and I guess 2025 will as well, assuming that the Captain and I will still be around to experience it.  Everything in me seems to be wearing out at the moment. The Captain is doing much better, thank God.

We Zoomed with our respective siblings on Monday as usual - all seems well. George was off to have his second cataract operation which, hopefully, will go as well as the first did.  Pen had to disappear briefly to feed the hens before they left. Nice that they still have hens at the farm.  I hope we might be able to get up and see it sometime next year. Every time we go the garden is so different. They have such scope there.

Dreams (and a boost for Disraeli Hall)

 

I am not sleeping well these days and one morning as Col's alarm clock went off so early, I got up, had my breakfast (which he always makes), saw him off, making sure he had his sandwich lunch, phone, camera, etc, decided I must try to have more sleep, and took myself back to bed.  I fell into a kind of uneasy waking dream, in which I was asleep in my bedroom here, aware that I was trying to sleep, but also back in my bedroom in the house I call 5 Disraeli Crescent in my books.  So this does seem like an opportunity to mention my book again, as it is about the two houses of my childhood - see picture above. Neither of them was a stately home, or even a Hall, by the way!

I hope it is very readable - I try to make my books page-turners - and both funny and scary.

In my dream, someone knocked at the door and said "Sue".  I thought it was my father.  Then I thought it was maybe my mother, and so I got up and went to the door, opened it and listened. And I heard my parents talking quietly in the kitchen which was both the kitchen at 5 Disraeli, but also wasn't. At some point I saw my mother, about fiftyish, talking with Penny, but somehow she had changed so much it wasn't her. I saw her profile clearly in my dream, and it wasn't her. Then I realised that both my parents are dead.

So who had knocked at my door?

I decided it must have been Pen, and suddenly woke up, realising, I was on my own. No-one was there.

The dream left a feeling of sadness and loss. And reminded me that it is not always a good idea to try to get back to sleep.

But it is so good to know that there is every reason to hope I will see my parents again when the time comes.  They will be young then, as they were when I first knew them.

And how young they were, as I look back at them, and how much they had been through, in their different ways. People were much more stoical back then, and did not talk very much about what they had been through - as us kids of the post-war babyboom played happily in the bomb sites and retired air raid shelters. 

And still we - the human family - have learnt nothing from our tragic past, given the recent headlines are all suggesting we are heading for a third World War...

We can only learn to live in peace with each other when we listen to our loving Creator, Jehovah, the God of Abraham. And millions of us are. And hopefully millions more of us will, before Jehovah brings a complete end to the current wicked system of things on the earth.

In the meantime, I don't think I will be writing any more books. Maybe a short story, or two...  but my batteries are so low at  the moment that I am having a painful struggle even to make a carrot cake, to re-stock the freezer with cakes for the Cake Fairy to pack up in the Captain's Detecting lunches.

I had to sit down for a rest halfway through making the current cake, and then sit down again halfway through clearing up after it. How sad is that?

I was a householder in the School on Thursday night - with just one brief practice.  I prayed a lot about it, and so it all went fine.  We were talking about why Christians must take no part in war.

I do not remember being taught that in my convent school days.  Nor, to be fair, would I have been taught that had I gone to the local Protestant school.

I had another odd dream on Thursday night.  I dreamt that we had both woken up, and got up. Then woke up to find that we hadn't.

What was the point of that?

 

Our Arabian Garden

Storm Bert seems to have vanished, but has left a lot of destruction in his wake. The Channel is much calmer and the sun was out on Tuesday,

We heard from Julia and are making plans to see each other next month.  We shared many years on Planet Expat and even went on holiday together. And we looked after Suzi the Saluki while she was on her repats.

All this has made me think about our Arabian days, and I found this photo Col took of our garden there. I had forgotten how lovely it was.  We had two great gardeners in Koppan and his nephew.  They used our backgarden (it is the front garden you see there) as their home from home, while they worked around the camp at various houses, and had their lunch and tea there.

They worked so hard to support their family - good sons and husbands that they were.  And they always showed us the photos of their new house and the next wedding, and we could see how their hard work was building a home, and buying land, and prospering their family.  I can only hope they are still doing well.

I had one of Pat's lovely coffees on Tuesday morning, with a stop off en-route to see if I could find the lawyer I sometimes call on at home.  He wasn't, but I had a card ready to put through his door, so he knows that I did call.  I also got the floors washed, and supper made, plus a veggie curry for me.

Which made it a very busy day.  And this morning I feel exhausted. Mind you, I do most mornings these days, as the batteries continue their downward course.

I have a day of Zoom ahead. The field service meeting at 10.00, followed by Zoom with a couple of friends, followed by my usual Wednesday afternoon double Zoom, followed by a Zoom with a sister as I am her householder tomorrow. Which means I am going to have to drive myself to the meeting, in the dark, which is something I prefer not to do these days. 

The morning is beginning as I finish this blog. It is very cloudy and the balcony geraniums are swaying a bit. Surely Storm Bert is not about to make a return visit?

Storm Bert

Hi Tide
by me

The sea had long wanted to go into town
So early one morning, it roared in
Found the arcades still closed
and battered them down.

I have probably blogged that poem before, but it seems appropriate as Storm Bert is raging, and causing a lot of flooding - though not locally, yet.

We woke up on Saturday morning to find Bert raging. and it is still raging now on Sunday evening as I finish this blog.  The Channel is wonderfully stormy outside our window, roaring away.  Just as long as it stays outside the window of course.

This wind will bring down so many leaves.

There has been serious flooding in places, and I hope that our local river, just down the road will not flood. There are are basement flats well within its range, so I hope that a close eye is being kept.

Pat rang me on Friday morning asking if I would pop in for a coffee next week. I am feeling groggy because of this new medication. This anti-depressant makes me feel so sandbagged that I have stopped taking it. I need to be able to drive to the meeting on Sunday.

As it turned out, Col's Detecting was cancelled on Sunday. The Field was closed, due to Storm Bert. So he chauffered me to the meeting, which was a great help. I was nearly blown off my feet as I stepped out of our back door. The wind always seems extra strong by the sea.

The public talk was about Bible prophecy.  It is very faith building to know how much of what the Inspired Scriptures prophesy has already come true, in its exact detail.  It continues to surprise me that although I had an intensive religious education at my Convent Schools, and also later attended a Protestant Church that would have considered itself, Biblically speaking, fundamentalist, prophecy was never even touched on.

It was not until two Jehovah's Witnesses called on me, and I asked them, and listened to them, that I began to learn, and understand.

A Winter Sunrise

 

There are some splendid sunrises at this time of year - see the photos above taken by Captain B a few days ago.

Tuesday morning was taken up with what turned out to be a fairly pointless visit to Dermatology.  The new medicine has not been approved yet.  However, they did suggest I try another anti-depressant and see if it will help with the maddening skin problem.  I will try it for a month and see what happens. I am not depressed in the clinical sense - being full of hope and finding life so interesting - so I don't want to be on it unless it really does help.

Oddly, as soon as we got back from the hospital, Col was called out on a SUSSAR search - for a depressed, possibly suicidal, young person who had gone missing.  He had his lunch - and I made him some sandwiches to take.  However the missing person turned up in a pub, drinking quite happily as far as I know, so he was back within a couple of hours.

Oh, and a young trainee doctor asked if she could examine me, just for practise.  Obviously I said "yes". It is quite something that one gets asked these days. It's a courtesy that I appreciate.  So maybe I helped her a bit, who knows.  We had quite a nice chat and made each other laugh.

I had to friends visit for coffee this morning, which was very nice.  It was sunny on Wednesday, but there has been snow in the North.  Our snow fell as rain yesterday.

We woke this morning to ice, then some snow, a good covering, which is now being washed away by the rain.  Col left very early.  I am still dopey from my first night on the new med. It did make me sleep, I will give it that.  All I want to do now is sleep, but there are things I ought to do today.

Darts Night

I spent Thursday morning making a cottage pie - for himself.  I no longer want to eat meat, though I do occasionally, if someone else has cooked it. But what is scary is that it exhausted me. I had to go and sit down before I was able to clear up.  Thinking back to younger days, when we used to entertain a lot, it did underline just how feeble I am now.

There was a time, on a faraway Planet (Planet Expat), many light years ago, when we used to have a darts evening on a Friday night - which was a Wednesday night on the Planet - and I used to make a large cottage or shepherds pie, a cauliflower cheese, and carrots, and a pudding of some kind for all of the Darters.

And I was working then... admittedly my hours at the Kennel Club were 7 a.m. till about 12:30 noon, but even so.  And in the early days working there I used to walk back in the noonday sun - with all the other mad dogs and Englishmen - through the shadeless desert to our little courtyard home.

I put the word "dart" into the Search Engine of Col's photo gallery, and it came up with the rather lovely Shuttle-shaped Dart moth that heads the blog.

Saturday was an early start.  Jim and Ruth picked up Col so they could get to The Field before it opened. I got myself out to Waitrose early - I like a car park space that I don't have to reverse out of - got the washing done - made a tomato curry for me - and an apple crumble for himself to have with his chicken soup tonight.

That is a really busy day for me these days.

The meeting at the Hall on Sunday morning was excellent, but I find I need to go by walking stick these days, as I am getting so shaky on my feet.  

Both public talk and Watchtower study were full of comfort and help. Truly, as the Bible tells us, Jehovah is "the God of all comfort".  And we keep coming to your doors trying to tell you about Him and his purposes for the earth, as we want you to have that comfort too.

Pottering

 

These are two pots by the potter Ann Marie Sheal.  We have many round the house - all works of art and all useful. She was such a good friend on Planet Expat, and I would have loved to have been able to share the excitement of my books being published with her.

I still miss her a lot. As I am sure everyone who knew her does.

She along with my brother-in-law, the potter and artist Ken Reah, opened my eyes to the world of pottery.

Peter, her husband, just put up a post in memory of her on facebook, with some photos, which is what made me want to post this.

My health does not improve. I paid for my walk up the stairs after I picked my little red car up from its hospital trip (to the garage) with a very very painful right knee on Wednesday.  I had Zoom sessions with friends both morning and afternoon which helped to take my mind off things.  The sun was out again, as it was on Tuesday, and I managed to catch about fifteen minutes worth of rays on the balcony on Wednesday before it disappeared.

The third in Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall trilogy has just started, on Sunday nights.  Judging by the first episode it is going to be as compelling as the rest.

Though apparently - well according to a tabloid headline - some people were shocked by the way it started with the execution of Anne Boleyn.  Now, given that they did not (thank God) make a Hollywood style gore fest of it, I am wondering why.  The actress playing her - must go and find her name  - Claire Foy, apparently - brilliantly conveyed the fear the poor girl must have felt, along with her desperate and futile hope for a last minute reprieve.  So for sure it was powerful and upsetting, as it should have been.

But could it be that some people did not realise she was indeed executed, and were expecting Superman to come flying to the rescue at the last moment?

Actually, as executions in Tudor days go, her death was probably more merciful than most. The executioner, brought from France, was good at his work, and did not linger over it.

But... poor girl... so young... does she have a wonderful awakening ahead of her once the whole earth is at peace under the loving rule of the Kingdom of God?  I hope so. I hope they all do really. But Jehovah is the judge of that, as he alone can read the heart and judge rightly - and also mercifully.

And every one of us damaged children of Adam need undeserved kindness from our Creator if we are to have back the life in the paradise earth that our first parents lost.

If I am there, I certainly hope I will see Ann Marie again then!  And what a lovely and useful and satisfying thing it will be, to make beautiful pots in the paradise earth.

Will I want to tell her about my books?  I doubt it,  they will no longer seem in the least bit important then.

Barton in the Beans

Here is another poem I wish I had written:

Barton in the Beans
by Joanne Limburg

For comfort on bad nights
open out a map of Middle England

and sing yourself to sleep
with a lullaby of English names:

Shouldham Thorpe, in gentle sunshine,
Swadlincote, in a Laura Ashley frock,

Little Cubley, veins running with weak tea'
Kibworth Beauchamp, praying on protestant knees,

Ashby-de-la-Zouch, saying 'Morning',
Wigston Parva, smiling - but not too widely,

Ramsey Mereside, raising an eyebrow,
Eye Kettleby, where they'd rather not talk about it,

Market Overton, echoing with the slamming doors
of Cold Overton, where teenagers flee every night to their rooms,

screaming that from Appleby Magna to Stubbers Green
they never met a soul who understood.

They never met a soul.
At Barton in the Beans, the rain says Ssssshhhhh...

The weather is grey and Novembery - fine by me - but it is warmer than it should be.  We do have the electric blanket back though - very comforting.

Col was busy at the weekend with his usual two days of metal detecting - very early starts in both cases. The public talk at the Kingdom Hall on Sunday was so encouraging - it was a reminder about the immensity of the known universe, all created because of Jehovah's dynamic energy - where all matter comes from. 

“Lift up your eyes to heaven and see.

Who has created these things?+

It is the One who brings out their army by number;

He calls them all by name.

Because of his vast dynamic energy and his awe-inspiring power,

Not one of them is missing.

Isaiah 40:26

I ventured on an expedition to Waitrose after the meeting, to buy some cooking apples. And later I had to go downstairs and re-park my car, as our parking bay was full when I got back and I could only find a space in another bay that was a bit tight.   The point about that (un)dazzling anecdote is that the tiny bit of exercise I had has caused me two days of bad arthritis pain.

The photo that heads this blog is the result of putting "apple" into the Search Engine of Col's photo gallery. This Apple Moth came up - specifically a Light Brown Apple Moth.  And the resultant Apple Crumble was well worth the expedition, as it has turned out very well and Col will be having another portion of it with his lunch today - after our usual lentil and veggie soup.

Needled

Friday was my latest blood test - postponed from early morning to late morning.  Captain B chauffered me, very kindly, as it can be hard to find a parking space later in the day. It's especially hard to find the sort of space I need for my little red KAA - the space you could park a double-decker bus in.

How routine an injection is these days, yet I can remember the horror of my very first inoculation, at school, in the 1950s, to this day.  We queued up, so I could see the nurse actually sticking a needle in the arms of the pupils ahead of me.  I could not believe it was happening. It looked like a brutal assault. I must have looked so white and shaken when my turn came that I even got a sympathetic word from the nurse before she stabbed me. Children were expected to be stoical back then, and treated like little criminals if they were not.

Yet now I inject myself fortnightly - for medical purposes - and it was until recently quite a painful business leaving me having to mop up the blood afterwards.  It is a lot less painful since the medicine changed, for which I am very grateful.  And I am constantly having blood tests and vaccinations.

I suppose this is one of the many advantages of growing older - needles no longer hold the same terror.  So I have chosen a photo of nature's needles to head this blog, in the form of a Needle Sea Urchin, yet another wonder from our Grand Creator, Jehovah.  It is from Captain Butterfly's photo gallery, of course.

I got back to the Hall last night, Captain B acting as chauffeur once again.  He walked me up to the Hall, and picked me up from inside.  A friend has brought me a lovely bracelet from her recent holiday in Italy.  And the brother I sat next to had just been through a cataract operation, even though he is young. Apparently his eye was damaged in an accident, which caused the problem. He was getting used to a dazzling new world, and one without glasses.

We - the Captain and me - compete at the Ordles every morning - Wordle, Quordle and Octordle.  I say "competing", but I am trying for a draw, and he wants to win.  One could almost think there was a difference between men and women... except that probably counts as a Thoughtcrime nowadays.  I guess I have to note that he often does win.