MAY

We chose this moth for our May calendar picture.  The moths are returning now, so hopefully Col will get some more great photos.  This lovely creature is a cistus forester.

I have mentioned the strange poem MAY by Karen Volkman in my blog before, but it seems more appropriate as the years go by. It is the contrast between may's "gaud gown", its fresh and shining beauty, and what is happening in the world - and what is happening to me - "a colder thing" indeed. It is a poem in which the language is so alive.  It begins:

In May’s gaud gown and ruby reckoning 

the old saw wind repeats a colder thing...

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/55530/may-56d2373a7826d

We, a sister and myself, drove through a lovely spring morning on the last day of April - fresh green leaves and blossom lining the roads, a cloudless blue sky above. We were heading, appropriately really, to the flower lady to conduct her Bible study.  It did go well, and she was also able to show her pretty wedding album to a fresh set of eyes.

She had such a good husband. I only knew him in his latter years, as a very sick man, pretty silent on a chair. He was a call of Jean's in the days when we used to do magazine route calls.  He was a well-read and intelligent man and so he did appreciate the Watchtower and the Awake.  An immense amount of research goes into them.

Captain Butterfly is being well looked after by my congregation sisters at the moment - he got some delicious coffee cake last week baked by one sister - researched by Himself to the last crumb and pronounced delicious - and then a home-baked sourdough loaf from another sister, who came running after us as we left the Kingdom Hall to deliver it, still warm.

We had it with butter and honey (and some seeds too in my case) as soon as we got back  And, WOW!  Yummy. We both had to exercise a lot of self-control to take ourselves to bed without polishing the lot off.  It will reappear as hot buttered toast to have with our lunchtime veggie/lentil soup.

And I did actually manage to get some sleep on Thursday night - woke up in a lot of pain come the early morning, but did get some sleep. And what a difference that makes.

I found an email from an old school friend awaiting me, asking I had some time to talk, via email. I have emailed her back - at least I hope I have - my email is doing some odd things today. I hope I haven't picked up one of those bug thingummies.

Apparently my fb has also been hacked in that someone i have never heard of has just got a friend request from me.  Why do some people put so much energy into destructive things when  there are so many wonderful things to do?

I did get some sleep last night too, but it was full of anxiety dreams - one of them being missing the Zoom funeral I am to attend in Zoom this afternoon. 

Hopefully that dream will not come true.

The Bluebell Woods

The Captain's marshalling work took him into the bluebell woods, and this is a photograph he took for me.  I can't walk in them myself any more, nor can Jackie, who used to be our Bluebell Walk companion.

I am wondering about us doing a flower calendar for next year, IF we are both still around - and IF the current system of things in still up and running.

We are in for some very very big changes on the earth.  And how splendid will the bluebell woods be then? Plus, we will all be able to walk happily and safely in them.

I feel another poem coming on:  Would you walk/in bluebell woods/for sure I would/if I only could  - but maybe not.  There would have to be some kind of reason for it, beyond my not being able to walk much at the moment.

What would John Betjeman and Philip Larkin have made of it?  Something wonderful for sure. And if only I could work that out I would have a brilliant poem.

I managed to get through Sunday night without any painkillers - a first for this year - but then I dreamt that I was stranded at the top of Everest, unable to climb down.  Fortunately there was a visitors centre up there, with people around, but to get off Everest you had a tricky climb UP.  It didn't in the dream occur to me that when you are at the top of Everest you are at the top of the world. The only way is down.  And you just have to concentrate on not coming down too quick.  Nor did it occur to me that the Visitors Centre, complete with loo, cafe and gift shop was odd either.

But I was just starting to wonder how on earth I had got myself up there in the first place when I woke up to find I was safe in my own bed, with Captain Butterfly in the kitchen flying the coffee machine.

This morning I have to conduct my Bible study with the flower lady.  We are talking about how to get the best out of studying the Bible today.

Showing my Workings

I am trying to see if I can write a small poem about the two earliest memories I have - two windows in time that opened.  They are ones I have probably mentioned before in my blog.  The earliest is a moment on Hampstead Heath with my young father, by the Pond. I must have been about three years old. And the second was when I was about 4 years old, in Sheffield, playing shop with a little friend in her garden of soot-blackened stones.

Its not that I remember them now, but I remember remembering them over the years, if that make sense.  I don't know why a window suddenly opens on Hampstead Heath and stays with me.  But the reason I remember the blossom moment is that seeing the blossom on stone, and being surrounded by blossom, in the lovely May garden filled me full of a sudden and unexpected joy.  Though it took me some decades to find out why I had felt that joy in that soot blackened spring garden. I believe it was a reminder of Eden, of the paradise garden our first parents so tragically lost.

And its a joy that I hope lies ahead of all of us, right here on the earth - a joy that will go on forever.

Anyway, I would like to try and pin the moments down in a poem as best I can and I thought I would show my workings.  It began as this, and continues to the finished version:

May was the blossom

on blackened stone

shining in steel city

we played shops

with all that the Spring garden had provided

It shone in steel city

the blossom on blackened stone

lifting my heart

a glimpse of paradise

while we played shops with all that May provided

earlier another window in time opens

the Pond at Hampstead Heath

my young father holds my hands

as we watch the Pond yachts.

Shining white in Steel city 

on blackened stone

blossom lifted my heart

while we played shops

with all that Spring had grown

too young to know this was a glimpse of lost paradise

pond yachts on the Heath

stay with me too

and my father's hand in mine

And I think this one is the finished version, as close as I can get:

Two Windows in Time

by me

Shining white in Steel city

on blackened stone

the blossom lifted my heart

while we played shop

with all that Spring had grown.

An earlier window opens

on Hampstead Heath

my father - so young -

holds my hand while

pond yachts sail along.

Of course, there is a better version of this in the ether somewhere, but this is the best I can do.

While Captain Butterfly has resigned from his volunteer work for Sussex Search and Rescue, after years of service, he has not resigned from fund-raising for them, so he left very early, with his usual sandwich lunch, to do some marshalling, for which SUSSAR will get paid.

I plan to attend the meeting at the Kingdom Hall in pixel form, via Zoom. But I am at least back in person at the Thursday night meeting, as Col is there to help me get dressed and chauffeur me.

I am wondering whether to get out on the balcony for half an hour of sunshine and finish my Watchtower study out there.  It turns out that what i have been identifying as Thrift on the balcony is something else.  I have forgotten its name, but it would explain why it kept flowering all through the Winter which no balcony Thrift has done before.

The Pleasures of Friendship

The Pleasures of Friendship
by Stevie Smith

The pleasures of friendship are exquisite,
How pleasant to go to a friend on a visit!

I go to my friend, we walk on the grass,
And the hours and moments like minutes pass.

I was thinking about the friends I have lost.  I guess all of us who are well past our sell-by date have lost family and friends - even me, an introverted Aspergery person.

I don't seem to have any photos of my lost friends, so I have headed this blog with a Ken Reah painting of Endcliffe Vale Park, a park from my childhood - a park  I have walked through with family, friends and dogs for most of my life.

I went there at lunch hours in the Sixth form with Barbara and Elizabeth.  And that was a long long time ago.  They are both still with us, as far as I know.  Elizabeth lives across the water on the Isle of Wight and we exchange letters/cards at Christmas.

Janie, a best friend from my childhood, the best friend of my young teenage years - she lived next door - died some years ago.  And Ann Marie, the best best friend of my expat years died before we retired.  I would have loved to share my books with her, as she shared her pottery with me.  And Diana with whom I shared a flat, well a room really, in my Uni years, died before we retired.  We are still in touch with her husband Pete.

How long can I go creaking on?

Anyway, on the topic of friendship,it looks like we will be having a small reunion of friends from Planet Expat, as a couple of them are over from the USA for this year's Company reunion.  We have asked if they would like to come for lunch.  I am looking forward to it.  And we also heard from our Thai friend in Bangkok.   That has got me thinking of old student times in Jesmond, and my first experiences of Thai food - which I love to this day - and also of our visits to Bangkok in our travelling years.

And right on time to be mentioned in this blog, an old facebook friend, Milton D, has just got in touch. I found his email in the Spam section - along with one from my bro.

And I have no idea why Google suddenly spammed them

If we all "inherit the earth", and live forever upon it, how will it feel having a thousand years of memories, ten thousand years - and all happy ones, no sadness, no bitter regrets?

And I must note that neither Milton D nor my brother believes this, but I hope they won't mind my hoping this for them.

In the Dark Fastness of Lobbs Wood

The bluebells are out in Lobbs Wood - a lovely walk for all who dare to enter its dark fastness.  You wouldn't have to be daring for too long though, as it's only about a dozen steps from one side to another.

It's quite a survival really - especially given that a fortune could be made by putting a block of flats on it.

Col is back to the metal detecting, so all seems to be going well, medically speaking.  His alarm clock went off at about 5 a.m. on Saturday morning - in other words, situation back to normal.

I don't know what to say about the News, about what is going on in the world, as the tragedies continue.  When Satan told our first parents that they did not need to accept and obey their Creator's moral laws, he lied to them. It is as simple as that.  Tragedy ensued, and will until God's Kingdom comes.

On Sunday morning I looked out over a calm blue grey Channel - grey in the foreground, blue at the horizon, under a mild grey overcast sky.  It was a symphony in grey and green.  It reminded me of how lovingly Jehovah made this earth for us, and reassured me of the paradise earth to come.  

The Captain left very early, for the usual reasons, while I made it to the meeting via Zoom - only just though, as I was in quite a lot of pain during the night and felt very very tired.

Another bad night, though having said that I didn't actually get up to take my painkillers till 5:00 - often it is about 1:30.  I had one Zoom session this morning with a friend and am about to pixel into my next one.  Not sure that Nute will make it though, as she has a work commitment today.

Three of us made it, and hopefully we will be back to the usual four next week.

Lowertrees

We had an expedition to Lowertrees Nursery on Wednesday.  It is all of a 10 minute drive away - doubled on that occasion by a traffic cone holdup - one lane blocked - and it's only a few minutes walk from car to plants - it's a very small nursery - with excellent plants. But, depressingly, that tiny tiny outing left me exhausted and in a lot of pain.

Anyway, we got our Nemesia to colour and scent our balcony and some more geraniums.  The pic above is of our newly planted balcony.  I hope to post one later when its in its full flowering glory.

And I must note that our valiant little Thrift has come through the winter, still flowering.  It features in the second photo.

It was a busy day on Wednesday, by my standards, nowadays.  We went to spend the morning with our Bible student, the Flower Lady. She is having her medical troubles at the moment, so we didn't make it formal, just showed her a couple of videos and had coffee and a chat.

Then I had my usual Zoom session in the afternoon before we set off on our Trek to the Garden Centre.

The Memorial was a stressful occasion this year, as I only managed to get there in Zoom.  I had been planning to go, the Captain was officially fit to chauffeur me, though not up to coming, and I had even been sheared for the occasion, so my hair looks as neat as it can.

Anyway, I did attend in Zoom and managed to find the emblems - I had some crispbread, which is basically flour and water, no leaven, and Col poured me a glass of red wine.  I did drink the wine later - AFTER the Memorial was over - as I felt I needed a glass of something.  I rarely drink these days.  And I don't take the emblems as I am not one of those with the heavenly hope. They are only 144,000, according to the Book of Revelation. The hope for most of us - and for me - is to "inherit the earth", and live forever on this beautiful planet.

However, I did make more of the Memorial Bible readings this year, as I decided to read the relevant chapters in the book "Jesus, The Way, The Truth, The Life".  It is an account of the life and ministry of Jesus, as told in the Christian Greek Scriptures, or New Testament, all in chronological order. 

Two things that I gleaned from it this time had not struck me before, and I might come back to them in another blog.

Bea (usually The House of Three Milks, but not this time)

Bea and Simon visited us on Saturday.  They were on a tour of family and friends in the South and were heading back home Northwards.  We didn't have long together - not long enough to get in some soy milk and become The House of Three Milks - but it was so lovely to see them, albeit briefly.  We got a takeaway from a local Italian restaurant we had never tried before, and it was excellent.  I ordered a pizza - margarita, my favourite - so it provided my supper for two days.

Simon is very into Astronomy and bought some wonderful photos he has taken of the planets, stars and galaxies.  When we see the wonder that is the Universe we float in - and we only get glimpses of it - I hope it can make us all wonder where it came from, who created it...

Because the answer is there, in the Inspired Scriptures, which say of our Creator, Jehovah:

“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 think Science has now caught up with that, and agrees that matter does come from energy.  And that is expressed clearly and simply in Isaiah.

Jehovah knows every one of us, just as he knows every star, just as not a sparrow falls without his knowing about it.  And he assures us, in his inspired word, that if we search for him we will find him.

I know that to be true.  

Col has not, yet, got into astronomical photography, but I put "star" into his Photo Gallery and got this splendid starfish, taken in The Gulf.  It did appear on the cover of one of the Oil Company's brochures many years ago. And may still do so, for all I know.

It is, apparently, a Common Knobbed Star (though to me it seems very uncommon).

The Memorial

Tonight, after sunset, millions worldwide will be memorialising the death of Jesus Christ, and remembering the ransom sacrifice he made.

I cannot express what it means for us better than our Scriptural thought for today does:

The gift God gives is everlasting life by Christ Jesus our Lord.​—Romans 6:23.

On our own, we could never redeem ourselves from sin and death. (Psalm 49:7, 8) So at great cost to himself and to his dear Son, Jehovah arranged for Jesus to give his life in our behalf. The more we meditate on what Jehovah and Jesus sacrificed for us, the more we will appreciate the ransom. When Adam sinned, he forfeited the prospect of everlasting life not only for himself but also for all his children. In order to buy back what Adam lost, Jesus offered his own perfect life as a sacrifice. During his entire life on earth, Jesus “committed no sin, nor was deception found in his mouth.” (1 Peter 2:22) At the time of his death, Jesus’ perfect life corresponded exactly to the life Adam lost.​—1 Corinthians 15:45; 1 Timothy 2:6.

Col won't be able to be with me at the Kingdom Hall this year, but he is going to chauffeur me, as he is allowed to drive now.

He had his day surgery on Thursday.  He left early, got back late, but in one piece and looking fine.  For which I do thank God!  It was a very worrying day.

He will need to go back in a few weeks, make sure all is OK.  

The poor guy then had to spend the next morning dealing with the Inland Revenue, who had sent us a letter saying that we owe them some money. At the same time their website clearly says that we have paid our current tax bill and owe nothing - a Big Fat Zero.

So Col had to spend most of his morning trying to phone them which meant sitting for ages and ages with the phone saying things like: "Your call is very valuable to us", "an agent will be with you soon", etc etc.  After an hour or so of this we were feeling rather fragile, but then we got through to a lovely young lady, somewhere in Newcastle I think, who really took her time and helped us sort the muddle out.  Whatever her pay is, please double it.  She is worth paying a bit more tax for.

The bluebells are out again. So it is the time of year that Col, Jacks and me would usually go out for our bluebell walk.  The olden days now, alas.

But, with the precious ransom sacrifice in mind, maybe one day the three of us will walk in bluebell woods again. They are lovely enough now, so how lovely will they be when the whole earth is paradise?

The Olden Days

This is the photo we chose for our April Calendar - a comely Clouded Buff, which likely turned up in our moth hotel last year.  I hope its life went well, or indeed is still going well.  And that its children are many.  And I hope it gave us a good review on TripAdvisor.

Col has been out on the balcony sorting and tidying and I think a trip to our favourite Garden Centre will be on as soon as it opens for the season. I must give it a mention when we do go.  

The News is all of the Tariffs, which it seems may bring about a world recession - something that will weigh hard on many of us, but most of all on the poorest in the world.  The whole business of money is insane really.  

And while the money markets crash, terrible things are happening all over the world.  Isn't it time we all admitted that we cannot rule ourselves, let alone rule over each other, and turn to our loving Creator instead?

With that in mind I got the last of my invitations to the Memorial on Saturday posted on Monday as I had a rare outing, to a pharmacy at a local village for our next Covid jabs.   

We came back to some very bad news.  Shirley, a close friend of Bea's for sixty years has died.  Bea is devastated.  It is all so sad.  

If we are living in the Darwinian system of things that "the world" would like us to believe, why are these things so painful?  Wouldn't it seem natural to lose those we love as we get older?

But it isn't. And so we find it deeply painful.  Our hearts are telling us the truth, that this was never meant to happen, and it is a tragedy.  

So, inspired perhaps by thoughts of mortality, and the contrast between the lovely Spring day and the sadness and our great ages, I did manage to write a small poem:

The Olden days - by me

Blossom lined the roads.

By the daffodilled carpark,

youngsters played

while we had Covid jabs

declaring birth dates

from the olden days.

I hope that Shirley sleeps safe in "the everlasting arms", safe in Jehovah's memory, and that, when the time comes, he will wake her from the dreamless sleep of death and she will see this lovely earth again - maybe on a blossom-filled day in Spring.

The Captain and the Sceat

 

Captain Butterfly and his recent find. A shining Saxon Sceat. Further info is on this blogpost:

https://colinknight.blogspot.com/2025/03/saxon-sceat.html

When I think how old that coin is, it really underlines how short our lives are now. Generations of us, the children of Adam, have come and gone, returned to the dust of the ground, and yet that little coin is still here.

Which brings me to this poem that Wendy Cope wrote about her husband. I can't say it better, so here it is:

“To My Husband,” Wendy Cope

If we were never going to die, I might 

Not hug you quite as often or as tight,

Or say goodbye to you as carefully

If I were certain you’d come back to me. 

Perhaps I wouldn’t value every day, 

Every act of kindness every laugh

As much, if I knew you and I could stay

For ever as each other’s other half. 

We may not have too many years before 

One disappears to the eternal yonder 

And I can’t hug or touch you any more. 

Yes, of course that knowledge makes us fonder.

Would I want to change things, if I could,

And make us both immortal? Love, I would.

https://www.tumblr.com/allyourprettywords/123380943623/to-my-husband-wendy-cope


Yes. We never want to lose the people we love. It is not a loss our Creator ever intended for us.  He has put eternity into our minds.

And it is our Creator, Jehovah, who can and will give us life forever, in the restored earthly paradise... and I so much hope we will "inherit the earth", and never have to wonder if and when that final separation is coming up.

And how will it be to have loved someone for hundreds of years, thousands, millions? Love is infinite, it is the force that created and sustains the universe. Our Creator Jehovah IS love.

And maybe the Captain and I - IF we are there - will have many more long-running jokes as well - which is a side of marriage I never thought about when I was young.  

 

The Hound of Endcliffe Vale Park - and a part in the School

 

I had a part in the School on Thursday night, and did manage to make it in person. Col helped me get ready, practised the script with me, and chauffered me. Penny joined us, via pixel.

Our Circuit Overseer gave us such an encouraging talk, and we all did our best in our various assignments.

My brief: 6. Following Up

(4 min.) PUBLIC WITNESSING. During the last conversation, the person accepted the Memorial invitation and expressed interest. (lmd lesson 9 point 3)

The script:

HH: Hullo, I was hoping to find you here. I lost the contact card you gave me after our talk last week and I wanted to tell you that I won’t be able to come to the Memorial on Saturday and so I don’t need the lift you kindly offered.

Sue.  It was so thoughtful of you to find the trolley and find me and tell me. But I would have rung you tomorrow just to make sure.  I hope you haven’t run into any problems.

HH.  No. Nothing like that.  My husband has come back early from his business trip and wants to take me out for a meal on Saturday night to celebrate our anniversary. But I haven’t forgotten what we talked about, or the invitation.  I feel I must get back to going to church, to finding my belief in God again, so I thought what I would do is go to the Easter Sunday service at our local church. 

Sue. I hope you have a lovely anniversary dinner.  And I am so glad you have been thinking over what we talked about. And indeed you could go to the Easter service, although that memorialises Jesus’ resurrection rather than his death.

HH.  Oh yes, of course. Well I guess what I could do is go to the Good Friday service, and then come to Easter at your Church.

Sue.  We only memorialise Jesus’ death though, not his resurrection.

HH. Oh. Why is that?  Isn’t the resurrection even more important?  It really made me think when you were showing me how Jesus was resurrected to become a powerful king in heaven.  

Sue;  That is a very good question. Both Jesus’ sacrificial death and his resurrection are of such importance for all of us. So why only memorialise one of them?  Would you look at this Bible verse here, at 1 Peter 2:21, which says: “In fact, to this course you were called, because even Christ suffered for you, leaving a model for you to follow his steps closely.”  To follow his steps closely. To illustrate, suppose you were following a guide over dangerous ground - for example Grimpen Mire from the Hound of the Baskervilles - if you have ever read that book.

HH. Oh yes. It’s so scary!  Though to be honest I always felt sorry for that poor hound.

Sue. Well, bless you for that. I agree. I have often thought if only the Baskervilles had not been so full of superstitious fears and instead had a pocket full of doggy treats and a few kind words for the poor hound the story could have been very different.  No, what scared me was  the horror of Grimpen Mire, because if you took one wrong step while trying to cross it you would find yourself being pulled down into the swamp. And the more you struggled the more it pulled you down. You had no chance.   So if you had to cross that Mire following a guide, a local man who knew every inch of it, would you watch very carefully where he put his feet, or would you decide to take a shortcut instead?

HH.  Of course you would watch every step, and put your feet exactly where he put his feet.

Sue:  Yes. It’s as simple as that. So we try to look at exactly where Jesus put his feet, so to speak. And we notice that Paul quoted Jesus as saying at the Last Supper after he passed round the bread and the wine “For as often as you eat this loaf and drink this cup, you keep proclaiming the death of the Lord, until he arrives.” (1 Cor. 11:25, 26) So is it Jesus’ death or his resurrection we are to keep proclaiming?

HH:  It does say his death. Yes.  This is making me wonder if I really do know the Bible at all.

Sue:  Do you know that we offer a free home Bible Study to all who want one. It can be for an hour a week, even for ten minutes a week whatever suits you. If you like I could call round next week and demonstrate it to you.

HH. Yes, I would like that. Do you still have my contacts?  If so, could you give me a ring and I will check with my diary.

***************

I had wanted to say something about why we are memorialising Jesus death on Saturday the 12th April this year, and not on what is called "Good Friday". It is because Jesus died on the Passover - which was a deliverance that prefigured the ransom sacrifice of Jesus Christ - and the date of the Passover is decided by the phases of the moon. But I couldn't discuss that. I only had 4 minutes, and it is important to keep to time.

The dog in the photo is Ollie, the Hound of Endcliffe Vale Park (in his day). You were in no danger from him, though he did come over a bit Baskerville when people were picnicking with their food at doggie level. But it was only the food that was harmed.

Gloaters Elbow?

One of the chefs on The Great British Menu said that he was "Removing the spice out".  "As opposed to removing it IN" I screamed, hurling my rubber brick at the telly (yet again).  I am well used to doing this every time they say they are "reducing the sauce DOWN", but if this goes on I will soon need a new brick. 

Among the sad headlines is news of a large earthquake which has hit Myanmar and Thailand. There are some frightening pictures from Bangkok.  We have emailed our friends there, hoping they are OK.

So I was thinking about heading this blog with a photo from one of our Thai trips, but they do not appear in Col's photo gallery - unless I can find one of a Thai butterfly.  You will know if I did or not by now.  For the first time I am regretting we don't post pictures of our meals on facebook, as I could have used one of those to head the blog, given I started of with Chefs.

The Great British Menu is finished now, with a fine flourish.  Mind you, I watch all these wonderful chefs with their brilliant varied dishes, but continue cooking the same rather ordinary food day after day. I was much more adventurous in our Expat days. 

The Thai butterfly, taken on one of the lanes off Sukhumvit on our first trip to Bangkok, is a Painted Jezebel.  That earthquake looks devastating as we see it on the News, with likely more problems to come as it has left so many buildings, bridges and dams damaged.

And this earthquake has shown up a new problem - well, new to me.  It seems that a lot of these high rise apartment blocks have swimming pools on the top of them. And suddenly there were floods and waterfalls everywhere as these pools tipped, or cracked, under the pressure of the quake.

It does now come back to me that in The Towering Inferno there was a pool at the top of the building, and - spoiler alert - it came in very useful.  But I had not realised it seems to have become a routine feature of so many buildings.  Will they need to rethink this?

We both had a bad night last night. I was up with shoulder pain etc, as usual.  And poor Col had such a painful elbow that it kept him awake. We took painkillers and watched the last bit of the The Steeltown Murders.  And we did manage to get some sleep, in spite of the sadness of Steeltown, a true story about three young teenagers killed by a serial killer, who went undiscovered until after his death.  Those girls were so young and they did not stand a chance.  The programme did at least take murder and its awful ramifications very very seriously.

I Zoomed to the Special Talk this morning.  It was titled: CAN TRUTH BE FOUND, which is very timely in a world system so full of spin.  I was hoping Col might give himself a day off metal detecting to give his elbow a rest, but no, he was off at the crack of dawn as usual.  I do have my own theory about what is wrong though.

Every morning we play the Ordles - Wordle, Quordle, Octordle.  I am aiming for a draw, he is aiming for a win.  When he does win he pumps his arms in victory.

I have had a few bad Ordling days and lost consistently.  So I think he might be suffering from Gloater's Elbow.

The Number One Bestseller!! and a Flare Up

Col just bought me back a book from the Book Exchange that he walks past on his various trips to the Clinic. I sent him off with a Morse book, and he returned with something called The Secret Keeper, by Kate Morton.

Like every single book published these days it has the words "Number One Bestseller" emblazoned on its front  Every book except my books that is, which is why a note of envy may pervade this blog. Though hopefully I will have got over it by the next paragraph.

I might just post another of my book covers to prove the point though.  Do you see "Number One Bestseller" anywhere on that cover?  If you do, its more than I can.

Anyway, I am so grateful to be in print, properly. And with such lovely covers for my books.  And at my age, I don't think I am up for the whole red carpet bit.

Tuesday was quite busy - for me, these days.  I did three different types of Not Home letters for those who are going out on the door to door work.  And I went through our study material for Wednesday, which is about prayer. And the study on Wednesday went well. Our student says she looks forward to seeing us. And of course it does all three of us good to be able to spend an hour studying the Inspired Word.

The Captain left very early for The Field, with his metal detector and sandwiches - and is hopefully having a wonderful treasure hunt even as I type.  And Bea and Co are coming for a visit next month.

My right shoulder is still bad - wakes me up at least once a night - and I have left a message with Rheumatology asking if the results of the Scan are in yet  - and this evening my right knee has decided to join in.  Very very painful and swollen.   I did have a "busy" morning in that I did the washing, made an apple crumble, and made some veggie and lentil soup.  And maybe that moderate amount of movement has been too much.

Col was at The Field all day, with the lads. I listened out for the clanking of chests full of gold coins as he drove back home - but no clanking, no chests, no treasure. He had a good day out though.

We have had two sea frets today - one in the morning and one late afternoon that is still hiding the sea from us.

The Speed of Light

Col picked me up from the Kingdom Hall on Thursday night and rushed me off home at the speed of light - well, at the speed of an elderly lightbeam zimmering slowly through the universe.  Another bad night on Friday/Saturday.  That is par for the course nowadays and seems unlikely to change, well not this side of Armageddon anyway.

I am now so sleep deprived that I am wondering about trying that anti-depressant again...  it's my age really I guess. I am now nearer eighty than I am seventy.  And that is old.  Yet how quickly it has gone.

I have decided to cheer myself up by choosing a couple of flower pictures to head the blog. The first is one Col took in NZ - so many years ago - of a fuschia growing wild.  Fuschia was one of my mother's favourite flowers.  It grew all over Cornwall where she spent her childhood summers.  And the second is Thrift, which I associate with my own early childhood summers in Cornwall.

That has reminded me of the flower called Honesty, which I loved to have in our garden, when we had a garden. We just have a sea facing balcony now and a blaze of geraniums.  Thrift also thrives there of course.  My mum-in-law Eileen liked Honesty too - and Iceplant - both of which she had in her London garden.

So many layers of memories - so how will it be to have hundreds and hundreds of years of memories behind me - and all of them so happy?   

Monday was a double Zoom session, one with my congregation sisters and one with my siblings. All seems well with all of us, thank God. I now have requests for more Not Home letters, I need to continue to send invites to the block of flats I was given, and start my study for the week - plus think about how to do my part in the School next week. So, thanks to Jehovah, I have a lot of positive things to take my mind off my medical miseries.

Fantastic Books Publishing

Us Fantastic authors, or six of us anyway, met up via Zoom on Monday night for a chat about how to market our books - especially by Youtube type videos.  Our publisher is Fantastic Books Publishing by the way, just in case you thought I was calling myself fantastic!  

I can write, but for sure I am not Dickens.

Author James Vigor gave us a great lesson in doing this - though I will need a lot of help from my Resident Tech Expert. And I still can't afford Kate Moss to be me in the video. Its a Catch 22 really, to afford her I need to have the blockbusting bestseller, but to have the blockbusting bestseller I need her to be me in my video.

https://www.fantasticbooksstore.com/

Oh well.  I am just so grateful to be published. I put a lot of work into those books, into making them page turners and I have a few appreciative readers who would happily buy the next one if I can ever get it written.

But I suspect I no longer have the energy.  And it does take energy to keep returning to the world of the book and moving it along.   If only I could get some sleep. Having said that, I do get some, but the pain keeps waking me.  A friend very kindly offered to bring me round some sleep tea, but I had to point out that it wasn't sleep that was the problem as such, it was the pain that keeps waking me.

I got to the Kingdom Hall in person on Thursday night - rather than in pixel form - so I hope I may be back on a regular basis now.  It all depends how the pain goes I guess.

Or whether it goes!

I have been enjoying watching both The Great British Menu, and The Apprentice.  There was an Apprentice first yesterday when Lord Sugar declared both teams "losers" and sacked one candidate from each team.

That could often have been said and done before, but this is the first time he has actually done it - over a Hot Sauce challenge too, which did not  seem like one of the more difficult ones.

Climbing Everest by Cake

The Watchtower study on Sunday was about how husbands can honour their wives. And one way is by being appreciative.  

"Praise your wife for the good things she does. (Proverbs 31:28,29: Her children rise up and declare her happy; Her husband rises up and praises her. There are many capable women, But you—you surpass them all.")"

And I am happy to report that Captain Butterfly scores very high on the Being Appreciative scale - while, being a truthful chap, not claiming that I surpass them all.

Though he might say that my apple crumble does.  And so I had better be humble and admit that it is based on a Jamie Oliver rhubarb crumble recipe - and works well with either fruit.

It means a lot to be appreciated.  For example, on Saturday, finding I had just used the last piece of cake from the freezer, I managed to make a fruit cake.  I had enough of the basic ingredients in to cook something approximate to the Boil and Bake fruitcake in my Crank's recipe book.  I am in such a sad state that it felt like climbing Everest - without Sherpa support and oxygen. 

I had to keep pausing, and resting. But in the end it was done. And there is a natural pause with this cake anyway. You have to simmer half the ingredients in butter and orange juice, then let it cool down before adding the dry.  So I could go and lie on the bed during the waiting stage.

To illustrate my mountain climbing metaphor, I managed to find a picture of a mountain in Col's photo gallery. Its not Everest - as you have probably noticed.  It's in Yanbu, Saudi Arabia.

Anyway, the point of this sizzling anecdote is that the cake turned out nicely - perhaps even better than usual! - and Col was very grateful. He really appreciated the effort, which made the effort well worthwhile.

I know you can buy excellent cake, but there is something about homemade. And anyway, they are what Himself likes.  My cakes are sturdy, not in the least fancy. But as a sister once said, in the days when we had a meal after our main meeting on a sort of potluck basis: "Your cakes don't look much, but they do taste nice".

Ideally of course they should look a million dollars AND taste nice. But, if I can only have one...

And anyway, they have to be sturdy to stand up to the rigours of The Field (it used to be "the rigours of the dive boat, or the desert" in what are now the olden days).

How quickly the years rush us along to that edge... but how wonderful to know that there can be an awakening from the dreamless sleep of death and the hope of seeing this lovely world again.  It is a hope we want to share with everyone.

Which is why we are inviting all we can to the Memorial of Jesus' death on the 12th April.  It is through his perfect life, given as a ransom for the life Adam so tragically threw away, that we have this hope.

Andy Fairweather Lowe and the Low Riders at the Ropetackle

Wednesday was a busy day - for me, nowadays.  Neither the Captain nor I had a good nights's sleep - him constant coughing - me, my pains - so he slept in (very unusual). The pain got me up early, which was good as I had to get ready for the study.  My sister comes at 9:45. I was OK timewise, but was wondering how I was going to get myself dressed without my resident (unpaid) Carer in attendance. I did not want to wake the poor guy, but he did wake up in time, and got me all ready to go and brisked me out the door on the very second of 9:45.

We spent two hours with our student and got back before lunch to find everything set out ready - I just had to heat up the soup and the apple crumble. 

It was an afternoon Zoom with another sister as we got on with our field service together - and hopefully encouraged each other.

Supper was pizza - easy peasy - and then a session watching The Bay - talk about gloomy - but true to life, alas, as the fruitage of the rebellion in Eden becomes more and more evident.

Given that I seem to be making so many crumbles, I wondered what would happen if I put the word  "crumble" into Col's online photo gallery. So I did - and this came up - an Orange Crumble Sponge that Col took in the Maldives!

Today I am making a fruit cake - as I am down to my last piece of homemade cake, which is now reposing in the Captain's lunch box along with his sandwiches. And he needs another lunch for tomorrow.

I think I experienced another of the "lasts" of old age too - the last outing - on Friday night. We went to see Andy Fairweather Low at the Ropetackle.  It was almost beyond me to cope, I was in such a lot of pain.  But we did it.

He and his band are very good - seasoned musicians - and he still has a great voice - he is our age. But what he does not do is the 60s/70s nostalgia tour that I (at least) was expecting.

He packed the venue - not a single empty seat, well apart from the one next to the Captain, but that is probably because he spent the first hour (before the concert started) coughing.  He did test himself for Covid  before going out in public by the way - and the test was negative.

So a good evening out, but perhaps such things are no longer for me.  Not this side of Armageddon anyway. And afterwards, who knows?  Will we sit listening to music, or will be all be able to get up and dance to it then.

I just hope that the Captain and I will be there to find out.

The Memorial Campaign starts today.  We will be issuing invitations from door to door - letterbox to letterbox - for the Memorial of Jesus' death which will be after sunset on the 12th April  It is through Jesus' sacrificial death that we, the damaged, dying children of disobedient Adam - can have back the life, the perfection, the joy, the paradise that our first parents so tragically lost.

THREADS

This weekend I discovered the Barry Hines movie THREADS.  I found it compelling.  It is set in my hometown, Sheffield, back in the eighties - almost a vanished era for the young I guess.  And it features the Town Hall extension that my father, an architect designed! We see the building functioning as ordinary life goes on, while the political situation as reported on The News is worsening. We see the local civil servants who will be in control if a nuclear war breaks out gather there.

And then we see it blown up when Sheffield is nuked.

It made me feel sad in many different ways.  Threads shows us the people of Sheffield going about their business as the political situation darkens and puts an end to all their hopes and plans - people I knew and worked with - people like me.

And, ironically, the extension - a lovely building - was effectively nuked by the politics of the time. It was planned and designed when local government was expanding.  The Town Hall even financed a Peace Movement then that was going to keep Sheffield safe from being nuked by making it into a Nuclear Free Zone (?).  And there was a Left Wing Bookshop, I remember, which I think it also financed.  It re-booted itself as The Independent Bookshop before it disappeared as mysteriously as the Marie Celeste.  It was closed one day - pretty much with half drunk cups of tea still on the counter.  Which I presume marked the moment that the Council could no longer fund it.

As I remember it, the Peace Movement itself was so riven with division that if one factor could have nuked the other it probably would.  Anyway, politics was changing, local government was being shrunk, not expanded.  And by the time the Town Hall extension was built, it was no longer needed.

So, in time it was emptied and demolished, along with daddy's lovely Registry Office, where Penny and George were married.  It was round, and known locally as "The Wedding Cake".  The Winter Gardens that replaced it are nice, and well-used. But unfortunately the buildings that replaced it were the standard tall glass and steel boxes.

Whereas the lost extension had a pleasant roundness about it - a softness. Someone once described it as "the box which the Wedding Cake came in".  Not just a featureless box in other words.

Anyway my father is in the centre of the picture above, with all the young architects of the 1950's making a valiant effort to build a brave new world from the bombsites and rubble of World War 2.  I recognise Don, and John, and Aziz - all iconic names from my childhood.

It was a sincere effort, after the horrors of two world wars, but of course they were up against the forces of "the world", which are set on destruction.

And as the Inspired Scriptures so rightly warn: "It does not belong to man who is walking even to direct his step."  We cannot put right what has gone so wrong no matter how much we long to.

But when God's Kingdom is ruling over the earth, will those sincere and enthusiastic young architects in the photo be woken from the dreamless sleep of death, and under the loving and flawless direction of the heavenly government, will they be able to have a part in building the paradise they so much wanted to build back then?

I hope so. Very much.  Think of how lovely some of our older cities are - cities like Rome and Venice for example - built at a time when the human family was closer to its perfect start than it is now.

How much lovelier will the cities in the paradise earth be?