Another Country

This is a blue-bordered carpet moth - one of the Captain's latest photos.  Its not, as I understand it, the sort that will eat your carpet - even if you have one with a blue-border. Its just what it's called.  Not sure why.

Apparently Facebook cares about me, and to prove it often shares my old Ordle (Wordle/Quotdle/Octordle) scores.   

I did feel very cared for at the meeting on Thursday night, which reminded us of how David continued to trust in Jehovah, through his many trials and tribulations, and his sorrow at his own faults and failings.

And that is something that can be so painful. Here we are, in the congregations, trying to teach everyone about the Kingdom of God, and its perfect laws and standards, while continually failing to live up to them ourselves, as we are all damaged and imperfect. Which is why we all need the undeserved kindness of the ransom sacrifice.

We need to remember that Jehovah is on our side, he wants us in the restored earthly paradise. He does not want to lose even one of us. But, at the same time, he completely respects the free will he gave us, and will never force anyone to come to Him.

We come out of love, and we stay out of love.

There were some particularly good demonstrations too - or "little plays" as my sister calls them, when she drops in via Zoom.  It reminds me that I have a part of my own in two weeks and must start thinking about how to do it.

It seems to involve  me - ME - doing this: "Tell the person about the JW Library app, and show him how to install it."

My partner is actually a sister and much younger than me, so maybe I will have to write it so that she tells me how to install it...?  Or perhaps I will consult my in-house Tech Expert, Captain Butterfly.

These new Smartphones still terrify me - though I do have one.  I knew where I was with the old horse-drawn version.  And I still remember my grandmother's phone number Tottington 2.   She was the second person on the Tottington Exchange. You picked up a big black phone, asked the operator for Tottington 2 and got through to your granny. Nothing needed to be installed, and no-one had as yet discovered the app.  As someone once said: "The past is another country. They do things differently there."

The False Firefly Beetle

 

This False Firefly Beetle was taken by Captain Butterfly (of course) on one of his detecting outings. I know next to nothing about it, but given its name, I feel that if it turns up on my facebook page telling me it needs my financial help as it is stranded abroad and unable to access a million dollars it has in a bank in TaxHavania, I would probably not believe it.

He is a handsome chap though.  As (of course) is Captain Butterfly.

This is proving to be a very hot week. Too hot for me.  Thirty minutes on our South facing balcony is about all I can take.  And the air has been so still. On Tuesday the sea did not even seem to move. It was cooler last night though, with a slight breeze. The Captain and I sat out on the balcony, with a glass of red wine apiece, until it was almost dark.

I spent Wednesday morning at the doctors - same old problem - saw a nice doc, but inconclusive - another med prescribed, another blood test to do, and I am on the lists for a scan.  Something interesting came out of this GP appointment - which they gave me without my asking and for which I am very grateful. She mentioned my anti-histamine, and I said that, no, I wasn't taking it as, for some reason, it seems to turn the sleep button in my head to "off". "No problem" she said. "I will give you a different one. It's one we prescribe for pilots."

For sure, you do not want them falling asleep at the wheel through lack of sleep! So I took one last night and it seemed OK.  It may not help with my current problem, but it may help with my ongoing skin problem, which is why I was prescribed nti-histamines in the first place.

The next time they ask me what medicines I am on, I guess I will have to say "It might be quicker to tell you what medicines I am not on".

But maybe this is what being as old as I am now is like, damaged child of Adam that I am.  All I can hope is that it will give me so much extra appreciation when and if, through undeserved kindness, I find myself in the paradise earth - alive, no longer dying, and in perfect health.

Our Creator, Jehovah, has promised that under the loving reign of the heavenly government, the Kingdom of God, no resident of the earth will say "I am sick".

I hope we are all there to experience just how wonderful that is going to be.

The Black Hairstreak at Ditchling Common

 

Here is the Black Hairstreak, posing beautifully on the Common.  If I looked as good as that I would be happy to pose too.  Captain B was off marshalling a swim - from dry land - on Saturday, and there was a fun run on the seafront.  The day started off oddly grey and rainy. I had had a bad night, but did, after some tea and pain med, get back to sleep and sleep through. So I am certainly better than I was.

Maybe at my age, you never feel that well.  Something is always hurting, that's for sure.  But I still feel full of gratitude for the gift of life.

Here is a butterfly poem from Emily Dickinson:

Two Butterflies went out at Noon
Emily Dickinson

Two Butterflies went out at Noon—And waltzed above a Farm— Then stepped straight through the Firmament And rested on a Beam— 

And then—together bore awayUpon a shining Sea— Though never yet, in any Port— Their coming mentioned—be— 

If spoken by the distant Bird—If met in Ether SeaBy Frigate, or by Merchantman—No notice—was—to me—
https://poemanalysis.com/emily-dickinson/two-butterflies-went-out-at-noon/

IF I am understanding the poem right, the butterflies seem to have ascended to heaven, and maybe the poet herself was hoping to end up there when the time came.

Yet the Bible promise is that we can "inherit the earth" and live forever upon it. So I hope that God will wake Emily Dickinson from the dreamless sleep of death when the time comes, and she will see this lovely earth again.  She clearly loved the creation.

And I am so glad that the Victorian mania for catching and killing butterflies, then displaying them on pins seems to have vanished.  And why did people - some people - want the heads of animals all over their walls!?!

I wish I could write a poem about a butterfly, or a moth, but my poetry writing days seem to be over.  I do have a character called Flutterby in my thriller "Disraeli Hall" - but that is as near as I have got.

Yet this photograph is inspiring - something about the combination of hairstreak and fern, both such lovely creations... its green perch... Col's surprise and pleasure at finding it. He rang me up to tell me about it.  There is definitely a poem in there somewhere. Maybe it could speak?

I waited on you and your camera/posed on an angled stem/so you could find your treasure/shoot your little gem.

That is the best I can do.

The first Swallow-tailed Moth of the season turned up on our balcony on Sunday night.  An exquisite creature -  another exquisite creation. Jehovah made the earth so lovely, just for us. And, even after 6,000 years of falling from paradise and perfection, and with nature now "red in tooth and claw", we can still see the beauty everywhere.  And I feel so sad at the thought I might soon be leaving it, and the people I love - AND the person I love most in all the world, Captain Butterfly.

Watching the News, or Choosing not to

This is another HOLD THE PRESSES in that Col did NOT go metal-detecting on Thursday. He took himself and his cameras off to Ditchling Common instead. It was something to do with a footie match that was on at 5.00 that he had to be back to watch.  And he found, and photographed, a Black Hairstreak, though the photo above is of an Orange-tipped Nest moth, taken on a previous occasion by my resident photographer. I may be able to capture the Hairstreak pic in a further blog.

And what a good thing it is I have a resident photographer, otherwise my blog would be headed by pictures of: my thumb, my lens cap, and/or the odd seascape with a strangely tilted horizon.

Our 2024 Convention is entitled: DECLARE THE GOOD NEWS!  This seems very timely as there was apparently an interesting news item recently claiming that many people, worldwide, have given up watching the News because it is so bad, so depressing.  Or maybe, like me, they just watch the headlines nowadays.  

Maybe more and more people are realising that there is nothing we can do about this, there is no human government that can or will solve the problems we have.  It is only the Kingdom of God that can and will, and that is the good news we want to declare to everyone.

It is the best news possible - and it is so close now. Soon that Kingdom will, as God has promised, put an end to the times we are living in now, times during which "man has dominated man to his harm".

Daniel 2:44 makes this promise:  In the days of those kings the God of heaven will set up a kingdom that will never be destroyed. And this kingdom will not be passed on to any other people. It will crush and put an end to all these kingdoms, and it alone will stand forever."

This is the Kingdom of God, the heavenly government for whose coming we are praying for when we say The Lord's Prayer.

Can we believe this promise though?   This is why it is so important to study the Bible, and Bible prophecy. Which, for all I had an intensive religious education in my convent schooldays, we never did.  But if you do study the Inspired Scriptures you will find how much of Bible prophecy has already been fulfilled.  For example, did you know that the Seventy Weeks prophecy in Daniel not only told the Jews the year the Messiah would arrive, but warned them what would happen afterwards. As it did.

I had no idea.  But I was very grateful to be shown this. It gives me such confidence in God's word.

I was out on the balcony on Tuesday afternoon, doing my studying and enjoying the view and the gentle weather, warm but not hot, very still, the Channel calm, and the scent of Nemesia. I was wondering how much longer I am going to last, and thinking about it all going on without me - as it all went on without me for how many millions of years before I arrived.  Who knows?  We know, from Genesis, that Adam was created just over 6,000 years ago, but it does not tell us how long the earth had been there before that.  And when and if I die, I will not be conscious of it going on without me.

But of course I am hoping that if I do, then Jehovah will remember me, keep me safe in his memory, and wake me up, the other side of Armageddon, during the Thousand Years. If so, I will next open my eyes in the restored earthly paradise.

It is so lovely now.  How lovely will it be then?  I hope we will all be there to find out.

Dine and Dash

 

I am still in the throes of my mysterious ailment, still hoping the antibiotics will kick in, but relying on a full daily dose of paracetamol to cope with the "discomfort". And on a slightly more positive note, I have been reducing the dose of painkillers and the antibiotics seem to be holding - so far.

There is a new crime being talked about in our lawless streets, which at least does not involve violence.  It is the "Dine and Dash" - order a lavish meal in a restaurant, eat it, and run without paying, i.e. stealing.  The competition in my current Spectator uses this as a theme for a poem - with some brilliant results.

As I am a longtime Spectator subscriber and as my blog is not monetised, I hope it won't be a problem if I put one of the winners in here.

In days when Vikings plagued our shores

With longship, fire and sword,

They'd celebrate their victories

And feast as their reward.

They'd dine for free on choicest meat,

And have their fill of ale,

Then satisfied with spoils and food

They'd leave, and northward sail.

In imitation of such deeds

Some folk go out to dine

And they select the dearest food

And drink the finest wine;

Like hordes of Vikings they are pleased

To eat, then dash away,

For like the raiders of the past

They see no need to pay.

 

Frank McDonald

Brilliant, Frank - wish I had written it.

Having said it's a new crime, it is sadly probably not so new.  I remember many years ago - before I was married, so we are pretty much talking pre-history here - being told of an experience my boss had in a Chinese restaurant in London.  There was a party of lads at the next table who had ordered a table load of dishes and as soon as they had eaten them, they got up, as one, and dashed to the exit.  However, the last one of them tripped over the mat, fell flat on his face, and looked up to see two cooks from the kitchen standing over him with very large knives in their hands.

He got up, and paid up. Hurray for the kitchen staff!  But they were so promptly on the scene that I would be surprised if this was the first time they had experienced a Dine and Dash.

A difference now is that the Diners and Dashers are often caught on video and so can be identified.

The picture above is a photo of the sky from our balcony.  It was the beauty of an Autumn sky in Sheffield many years ago that told me, as clearly as if it had spoken, that it was created by Someone who loved us, and who had made it so lovely just for us.   And now that I have learnt who the Creator is, and the wonderful future he has in store for all who will listen to him and obey him, I hope for the day when I will be able to thank Him for all this from a perfect heart.  

And if and when that days comes, I will have a perfectly healthy body too - no more worries about aches and pains. No more aches and pains!

This week - well, at the end of last week actually - we start to distribute  the invitations to the 2024 Convention: DECLARE THE GOOD NEWS!  It is being held worldwide, and millions will hear the good news about the Kingdom of God, and of the time, here on the earth, when "No resident will say 'I am sick'".

The Story of Jan Stepek, Part 1

https://www.scottishbooktrust.com/book-week-scotland/events/2023/martin-stepek-book-preview-from-the-gulag-to-glasgow

I have finished reading this well-researched, well-written, and very readable book. And I want to recommend it to everyone.  

It tells how the Stepek children's childhood - so many childhoods - ended when Stalin and Hitler in coalition invaded Poland, thus starting the second world war, and bringing misery to millions.  I am glad to see the Nazi-Soviet Pact mentioned as it has pretty much been sent down the Memory Hole.  The Movers and Shakers, who decide these things, seem to love Stalin.  Don't ask me why. Both he and Hitler killed millions in the service of their mad "isms".  

And so a few hours later, as Christmas Eve gave way to the 25th December 1938 the Stepeks of Maczkowce brought in Christmas together. They were never to do so again.

It is not long before Stalin's secret police, the NKVD, arrive. They take Janina, the mother, away for some days. When she returns "her hair had turned grey and she was clearly a broken woman". She never really recovered from those few days.  I don't know that any of us would.

Then the local people - and thousands of others - are taken to Siberia via a nightmarish journey by boxcar.  Those who survive then face another nightmare.

I very much admire the fair way in which Martin Stepek tells his story - inciting no further hatreds.  Because it would be so easy to tell it in a different way, and increase the division and hatred in the world.  We see that everyone is suffering in the cause of these cruel "isms", even the guards in the Siberian gulags.

He also answers a question I have had for some time. Were there rescuers from the terrors of Communism? 

Martin Stepek records that prior to Stalin's secret police turning up to arrest and murder Jan Stepek, two friends, one Jewish, one Ukrainian, take the risk of warning him so he can get away just in time.

Again and again, the author records the way people of all kinds helped each other through this. It is one of the things that makes the book so readable.  It shows that we can - if we wish - relate what happened to our families without inciting more hatred, or "untering" others.  And it is so important to do so. Doesn't our Creator, Jehovah, love the peacemakers, the ones who try to heal the divisions?

Towards the end of the book, the survivors of the family arrive in Iran, or Persia, as it was then, and there they found such kindness.

"They were beautiful people, said Danka referring to the Persian people. "In Pahlevi they were always bringing food Food and more food for us. I don't think they had ever seen people in as bad a state as we were.""

Martin Stepek also notes this: "Several thousand Poles who had somehow survived the odyssey from their places of captivity in the Soviet Union to this land of freedom had fallen just at their moment of freedom. Their graves would be tended by generations of Poles and Iranians in the decades that followed."

I am so glad he has thanked the kind people of Iran/Persia in this book. He has managed to make something positive, something hopeful out of this, without softening in the least the horrors of communism, fascism and war.

Martin's father, like mine, and so many others, had to start again, traumatised strangers in a strange land. And they did. So I am very much looking forward to Part 2 of his father's story.

And I will end this with a poem I wrote about my father, who hated the cruelty of some of the Victorian nursery rhymes.

BEDTIME STORIES

by me

The floor is thick with snipped-off  thumbs

The dreaded Scissor Man has struck

Look out children!   Here he comes!

Oh, how Danny loves this book.

Matilda tells her horrid lies

Until her house goes up in smoke

No-one will listen to her cries.

Oh, how Danny loves this book.

Oyster children plead and flutter

As Walrus and Carpenter run amok

Eat them up with bread and butter.

Oh, how Danny loves this book.

Pobbles are born without their toes

Men hunt the Snark with baited hook

Kill Jabberwock, chase Slithey Toves.

Oh, how Danny loves this book.

The air is thick with blown-off limbs

The dreaded Luftwaffe has struck

Memories of these, and other things...

Oh, how Grandpa hates this book.

I wrote this a long time ago. The little lad who stars in it now has children of his own, and he reads them bedtime stories.

More Micro-Moths

The Captain has been finding a lot of mothy treasures, but none of the other kind.  Jehovah is so generous with his treasures. The one above is an Orange-Tipped Nest Moth.

We had a lovely surprise when Dave and Maggie rang up to say they are in the UK and plan to come down to see us. They too lived on Planet Expat for many years.   And we thought they were still living in the Far East. They have been having a very busy and successful retirement there, with Maggie finding a new career in showbiz!

We had our usual sibling Zoom sessions on Monday morning - all seems well, thank God.  If I was capable of any more plane travel, I would take one more trip to Oz to see John and family.   My main trip on Monday was out onto the balcony, firstly to rescue a moth that was fighting with a small black and white bird.  I did rescue it - after an epic struggle (I opened the balcony door) - but then I felt bad because had I rescued a moth, or had I left a fledgling without breakfast... ?  What a difficult world it is, cut off from its Creator, with nature "red in tooth and claw".  Hopefully bird and moth will co-exist peacefully in the restored earthly paradise, just as the lion and the lamb will.

My second balcony trip was to get my meed of sunlight and also to continue with Jan Stepek's amazing book about his father.  I am close to the end now and hope to post another blog about it.  It is  impressive. How he managed such difficult and painful research and then managed to write about it in a way that makes it easy to read, and without any vindictiveness or vengefulness, I do not know.

But I am very impressed.  And it makes me realise, yet again, how wise our Creator is when he tell us to be forgiving and to leave the rest to Him.

There was, of course, so much sad news this week, and also of course, most of the tragedies and sadnesses in the world are not much reported, if at all.  Nevertheless I do want to note the loss of Michael Mosley. He went for a short walk on a Greek island, and never came back. He was found some days later, having died of what are being called "natural causes" - possibly heat stroke, heart attack? - I don't know.  But it is such a sad and sudden loss for his family.  His research and writing on diabetes was so helpful to my brother in law, and now to me.  It is a loss for all of us.

We had a great day with Dave and Maggie - fish and chips at The Arun View - quiche and salad for Maggie. It is lovely to have them living much closer - we have known them for so long. We are hoping to meet for a nice pub lunch maybe halfway between us before too long. It is sad how much time we spent talking about our various ailments though. And that is another aspect of old age that we never think about when we are young.

A Common Tubic (and too much information)

Col's detectoring day out on Thursday resulted in the treasure above - a photo of this exquisite micro-moth - the Common Tubic.  It is so tiny we can only see how wonderfully its made via the photo.  

It would not do for Richard Bucket's blog though. Hyacinth would NEVER allow a Common Tubic into the Bouquet world.  A Royal Doulton Hand Painted Periwinkle Tubic, yes, of course. That would do nicely.

On a sunny Thursday I was feeling very down and full of a cold. My UTI had returned and I trekked to the surgery with a sample. And now I find myself wanting to provide far too much information about this...  but had better not.  It is an unusual form of the infection that gives none of the normal symptoms, just a painful and constant feeling of a very full bladder.

I picked it up after my first knee operation. The ward toilets were so dirty - I have to say they were in every ward I have been in.  And every so often it returns to haunt me.

From what I can see it is only recently that it has been recognised and researched.   What usually seems to happen is they say there is no infection but when I manage to persuade them to send it to the hospital lab to be tested they find there is.  And then I have to go back again to get my prescription, which so far has always been sent to the remote pharmacy instead of awaiting me at the counter.

The remote pharmacy then sends me panicky emails asking what is this doing with them when clearly I need it asap.  To add to the level of difficulty there is now a further trek to find a local pharmacy, as the Clinic Pharmacy is still AWOL after a patient drove their car through its wall. Don't ask.

Why do I keep getting these things now?  Never used to. Is it just old age - which is a frightening and painful business, so I need to keep a firm hold on the hope of perfect health in the restored earthly paradise. 

How does anyone cope without that hope?  And in harmony with that thought, I am about to join the meeting at the Kingdom Hall in Zoom. I had hoped to be there in person, but I have woken up with such a sore and painful left foot that I can't drive - or even safely have a shower.

As I seem to have said already, old age can be such a painful business. But I also know that I am very grateful still to be here on this lovely earth, still able to try to serve my Creator, even in a limited way. Every day is a bonus now.

The Holly Blue on the Thrift

The Monday morning excitement was that I saw a Holly Blue butterfly on our balcony thrift. HOLD THE PRESSES!!!! It was so tiny, so exquisite, and so blue. I alerted Captain Butterfly who came roaring out with his camera - see the result above. I am happy to know we can have a plant that is useful to butterflies on our balcony. We are limited by the constant exposure to the sea, to the salt wind from the sea.

Could I write a poem in its honour? The Holly Blue is one of my favourite butterflies and Thrift is quite a numinous plant for me as I used to watch out for it on our childhood holidays in the Cornwall of the 1950s. It grew on the cliffs. So it ought to be possible, but no inspiration as yet. Is it something to do with age? Anyway I have thrown some ideas into the poem pot and will see if anything emerges.

The first symposium at the recent District Assembly was: Imitate Those Who Eagerly Waited, and one of the three Biblical examples was the prophetess Anna.

She was not young, and the Speaker pointed out that, like so many of us, she faced the unique and cruel challenges of old age. Yet she was never missing at The Temple. Which made me feel rather guilty as there I was missing from Haysbridge, attending on computer. But, on the other hand, I did not feel it would be right to go and cough and sneeze all over everyone. I had to go and get a fresh box of tissues halfway through the video session as it was.

Anyway, I thought I would try to decipher a few points the Speaker made to help old crocks and crumblies like myself.

Here is what we know of Anna, at Luke 2:36-38:

Now there was a prophetess, Anna the daughter of Phanʹu·el, of Ashʹer’s tribe. This woman was well along in years and had lived with her husband for seven years after they were married, and she was a widow now 84 years old. She was never missing from the temple, rendering sacred service night and day with fasting and supplications. In that very hour she came near and began giving thanks to God and speaking about the child to all who were waiting for Jerusalem’s deliverance.

Everything Jehovah had written down and preserved for us is important - it is for us to learn from. It is his message to us. There are no wasted words. So we can learn a lot from this brief account of Anna.

What a short time her marriage lasted. So how long she would have been on her own - having to look after herself and very much rely on the kindness of others. There was no Welfare State, no widow's pension.

But first and foremost she relied on Jehovah, kept faithfully worshipping him, and of course He did look after her. And then, at the end of her life, he gave her the privilege of actually seeing the Messiah that Israel had been waiting for down so many generations. We probably can't imagine how wonderful that was for her.

I made a special note of Isaiah 46:4, one of the cited scriptures. It says:

Until you grow old I will be the same;
Until your hair is gray I will keep bearing you.
As I have done, I will carry you and bear you and rescue you.

I feel very old and gray at the moment, and, having found out that now the second of the two girls I shared my first student flat with has died.  So I am having an "I alone escaped to tell you" moment. And I feel dreadful, as if this nasty cold is flaring up all my other health problems. Today I face up to a trip to the Clinic and the struggle to get the antibiotics I need - remembering last time...

So the first and foremost lesson I hope to take from Sunday is that I need to keep strengthening my trust in Jehovah, and rely on Him for everything.

Summer Arrives (and along with it a Cold)

Summer seems to have arrived - see the blue sky above - and I have a bad cold.  It is the one the Captain has had for the last 10 days or so. I am hoping that I won't get the cough that goes along with it  - not sure how my poor battered lungs will cope.  Col has been coughing for days, poor guy.  We sat out on the balcony on Saturday night with a glass of wine watching the sea, and talking things over.  Its odd to be so old now.  Just yesterday we were a young married couple.

One thing we have to talk over is whether we should move back up North or not, to be near family.  When we bought this flat  many years ago, we had a lot of family down here.  Now there is almost no-one.  Having said that, we have the wonderful congregation family who rallied round in our hour of need.  But I also wonder how much longer we will be able to continue travelling to visit family 'oop North.  It's hard to tear ourselves away from this lovely location though - we will not get a view like this again. I am going to continue to pray to Jehovah, asking him that he will help us make the right decision.

Because I do not know what it is.  At the moment Col's decision is definitely to stay here, and of course I will go along with that. We are happy here, and I trust his judgement.

For some reason I have been reading about Kingsley Amis and Elizabeth Jane Howard, even though I am not a fan of their novels.  How sad peoples lives are really - all our lives, even though we can have happinesses in them.  I want to say something about this in my blog, in time, but I am still reading Martin Stepek's amazing book about his father's journey from Stalin's gulags to Glasgow.  And I am very much admiring the way he is telling his story, so also want to say some more about that.

As I am now full of a cold I had to attend the Circuit Assembly on Sunday by video.  it was strangely tiring, but well worth it.

The Convention was titled "Eagerly Wait for Jehovah", and the theme scripture was Psalm 130:6, which says:

I eagerly wait for Jehovah,
More than watchmen wait for the morning,
Yes, more than watchmen wait for the morning.

It's a powerful image, as I guess we can imagine how eagerly the night watchman waits for the sun to rise after a long and maybe tense and worrying night. And he knows that the sun will rise, the dawn will come.

We need to be just as sure that Jehovah's purpose towards the earth, that it will become a paradise, will be fulfilled. And that it will come exactly at the right time too.

There was a lot of wonderful teaching and advice and I will need to try to decipher my notes.  But one thing I will note now is that we had a reminder that Jehovah loves the peacemakers, not those who cause trouble and strife.  Which brings me back to Martin's book, as he is so careful not to tell his father's story in a way that incites further hatred, further division.  And yet he certainly could have done, had he chosen to.  

I hope Jehovah - who teaches us that love "does not keep account of the injury" - will bless him for it.