Tales from my Granny

My granny was quite a stern lady, quite Victorian, who presided over the childhood paradise of Nabbs Cottage.  My second thriller has what I hope will be a very scary scene set in the dark at the foot of the second staircase at Nabbs.

She was also an interesting lady - great golfer, great bridge player, great cook. And always kept the best sherry in for Occasions.  And I hope I amused and entertained the young pioneer sister I was out with Thursday afternoon with the story of what my granny wrote in my Autograph Book way back in the 1950s (when there was a craze for them among us convent schoolgirls).

She first drew a tombstone, then wrote this underneath.

Here lies the body of Andrew Jay
Who died maintaining his right of way
He was right, dead right, as he sped along
But he's just as dead now as if he'd been wrong.

I have to say I have never forgotten it.

Today was busy -  Rustington in the morning, Malcolm (hairdresser) in the afternoon - 3 loads of washing done, floors washed, lunch and supper made, including using up the rest of the cooking apples.    And the Butterfly paperwork arrived yesterday, so I am in the middle of doing it now.

Another health problem has loomed - will get the results of the tests on Wednesday. I plan to stay close to home tomorrow, so won't go the field service group, but hope to get out and do as many of my local calls as possible.

The Blue Lipstick Fish

Threespot Angelfish, Apolemichthys trimaculatus

Last night we - the Captain, Terry, Jacks, Butterfly Mark and myself - visited Bandos Island - in virtual space -as the Captain did the monthly presentation at the Arundel WWT supporters group:  "The Coral Reef Life of the Maldives".   The last few days have been devoted to preparing it, going over and over the slides.

It brought back the vivid beauty of the Indian Ocean, which is bursting with life. The colours, the shapes... and the Captain even brought up the point that the Mercedes-Benz Bionic car was based on the perfect aerodynamic design of a female Yellow Boxfish.

Jehovah's designs simply cannot be bettered, as he alone is the Grand Creator.

 I don't know if there is anyone who has photographed the marine life of the Maldives as intensely as the Captain has, and for so many years.  He took his party of divers to various islands there - usually to Bandos though - for more times than I can count..  I was on many of the trips, though not all.  One time I stayed behind and house sat for Chuck and Mary (on visitors visa, could not go with the divers).   I was looking after the precious Persian kittens, and that is when I had a strange dream that I was at a banquet, but as I raised the lovely food to my lips, it turned into barbed wire and prickled me.  I woke to find two tiny Persian kittens fighting on my forehead, digging their little claws in for purchase.

The supporters group provided us with home-made mince pies and mulled wine in the interval, so a lovely evening.

The More Things Change...

...the more they stay the same.

Here is Betty McDonald (the author of "The Egg and I") on the Depression of the 1930s:

Her employer’s business is clearly failing, but MacDonald feels she shouldn’t leave her boss, Mr. Chalmers, in the lurch. She intends to stay until the end. “And I did,” we read, “in spite of Mr. Chalmers’ telling me many times that the Depression was all my fault, the direct result of inferior people like me wearing silk stockings and thinking they were as good as people like him.” Again, this blame-the-victim language recalls some of the rhetoric of today’s subprime mortgage crisis.
http://www.seattletimes.com/pacific-nw-magazine/betty-macdonald-and-i/


We start on the Book of Isaiah once again in the mid week meetings this week.  One of my favourite books.  Full of some of the greatest poetry ever written - after all it was inspired by the Creator of language and poetry.   And with amazing prophecy - history written in advance

Under inspiration, Isaiah actually named Cyrus as the one who would free the Jews from Babylonian captivity.   This is from the Isaiah commentary, published by The Watchtower Bible and Tract Society:

"In Isaiah’s inspired restoration prophecy concerning Jerusalem and its temple, this Persian ruler had been named as the one appointed by Jehovah God to effect the overthrow of Babylon and the release of the Jews who would be exiled there. (Isa 44:26–45:7) Although this prophecy had been recorded well over one and a half centuries before Cyrus’ rise to power and though the desolation of Judah evidently took place before Cyrus was even born, still Jehovah declared that Cyrus would act as His “shepherd” on behalf of the Jewish people. (Isa 44:28; compare Ro 4:17.) By virtue of this advance appointment, Cyrus was called Jehovah’s “anointed one” (a form of the Hebrew ma·shiʹach, messiah, and the Greek khri·stosʹ, christ). (Isa 45:1) God’s ‘calling him by his name’ (Isa 45:4) at that early date does not imply that He gave Cyrus his name at birth, but means that Jehovah foreknew that such a man by that name would arise and that Jehovah’s call to him would be, not anonymous, but direct, specific, by name."

Running on empty, and Sands running out

So its Monday, and what did I do over the weekend?  Something, I hope...  Jean and I went to the Field Service Group on Saturday morning, and we did some first calls, and I took Jean to some of her route calls and return visits on the way back.    We went to Jackie's for supper - moussaka - and we laughed all evening.  So a good day.

Sunday...  I got to the meeting - the Hall is full again -  lovely talk, the truth gets clearer and clearer - Christianity being called "the way of the truth".

But then, apart from getting lunch and supper for me and the Captain, it seems I did nothing.  I fell asleep when I got back - and slept all night as well.   It feels like running on empty.  

On Friday I did make the fruitcake for the family.  Not a Christmas cake by the way - not even a Christmas cake recipe.  It is a great boil and bake fruitcake recipe from a Cranks cookery book Captain B bought me years ago. It is always popular - a very reliable recipe.   But making it, doing my study for Sunday, and the routine housework exhausted me.

If I were writing poems now what would I be writing about old age...?  

I think I will have to borrow the words of another poet, Stephen Knight:

SAND
Stephen Knight

Sand is at the door.
Its progress through the keyhole slow:
I raise both hands to hold it back before

Sand inches, grain by grain, along the hallway floor:
Among the slippers, dunes begin to grow:
Sand is at the door

Of every cupboard, every drawer
Brims, postcards on the mantelpiece no longer show:
I raise both hands to hold it back before

My deepest rooms become extensions of the shore:
Now, where the goldfish used to come and go
Sand is: at the door,

In books, on pillows, more, and more
Sand pours towards me: with one, whispered 'no'
I raise both hands to hold it back before

My waist, my chest, my neck, my jaw
And mouth succumb to sand, its undertow...
Sand is at the door...
I raise both hands to hold it back before

The Blob

Scarlet Berry Truffle, Paurocotylis pila

I seem to remember a terrifying sci-fi movie I saw as a child in which a Gigantic Blob from Space landed, and it doubled in size every hour or so and was set to swallow up the whole world until someone like Steve McQueen came along and saved us.  I was terrified.

Well Captain Butterfly has found one!!    Doomed,  We are all doomed.    However, before I start running round like a headless chicken, I must remember that Jehovah's promise outweighs any blobbery, and in fact we are on the brink of a most wonderful rescue.

In harmony with that, I was out on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, knocking on doors, trying to tell people about the incoming Kingdom of God. And we visited Maggie on Wednesday, me, Jean and Jennifer. She is so frail now.

The meeting last night was wonderful, of course, but I have never seen so many empty seats in the Kingdom Hall.  I hope there is not another nasty cold/flu thing going round.

Surely it can't be The Blob at work already?!

Earthstar

Sessile Earthstar, Geastrum fimbriatum

Got back from the lovely meeting at the Kingdom Hall yesterday expecting to find Captain Butterfly at home waiting for his lunch.  Instead I came back to a silent flat, with a mysterious note on my computer:  "Mark rang. We've gone to find an Earthstar."

Had they been kidnapped by aliens?    In the  meantime, I thought, well, as I have no meal to get, I had better get myself out on the preaching work.  I have been trying to find a young borne-again girl we had a great talk with.  I have tried, but not found her at home.  Plus there are still some magazine route calls for November to do.  So after a quick lunch (bean and celeriac salad) I set off nervously. She lives in an area that I find difficult to drive to.

When I got back I did manage to contact the Captain, and he had found his earthstar!   On hearing of my heroic solo drive, over two rather large roundabouts, he suggested that I write one of the adventure books I am so keen on reading.   "I drove to Angmering!!"    Is there a Hollywood blockbuster in this?

The talk yesterday was to remind us how vital it is that we really are making Jehovah our refuge.  And it started with a vivid illustration.  It was of a man swept away by a powerful river.  He finds a rock jutting out of the river, manages to grab it, and angle himself on it so that it protects him from the strong current.

A few metres downstream is the Niagara Falls!

So, how desperately would you cling to that rock in those circumstances.  

As I said, it was a vivid illustration. Shudder.

He then asked us to read and think about these two Bible verses.

Firstly, 2 Samuel 22:3, which says:   "My God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, My shield and my horn of salvation, my secure refuge And my place to flee, my savior; you who save me from violence."

Jehovah is our rock. Are we clinging to Him - and to no-one or nothing else?    Some people cling to money, to political power, or maybe put their faith in the right career, or a brilliant education.  But what is going to happen?   Are they rocks we can safely cling to?

We then read Nahum 1:6, which says:    "Who can stand before his indignation? And who can withstand the heat of his anger? His wrath will be poured out like fire, And the rocks will be shattered because of him."

All the rocks will be shattered.  They will prove to be false gods. We need to cling to Jehovah the true God, to give him exclusive devotion. And the talk was how we can do this, in all the areas of our life.


Jackie came to supper on Saturday. And I did cook this time - not Cooks.  Cottage pie, cauliflower cheese and carrots, followed by apple-crumble and a cheeseboard.

The leftovers took care of supper yesterday and will do for supper tonight.  It all turned out well, thank goodness, as we are still eating it.

A Collective Noun of Visitors and an Arthritis Flare Up

What would be the correct collective noun when a whole load of sisters turn up at the same bedside (Maggie is bedbound now)?      Jean and I always try to go Wednesday afternoon, but this Wednesday was complicated by Jean's leaving her phone off the hook.  I always phone her before I pick her up so we can meet in the carpark, as her flat is very difficult not to say impossible to park in.   Anyway, she rang me and it turns out she was at Jennifer's.

Captain Butterfly drove me over to Maggie - I am in the middle of an arthritis flare-up, left leg. I was back on my zimmer frame on Tuesday. The pain.   Oh joy.  I was hobbling slowly about on a stick by then, but not able to drive.   So the Captain kindly came to the rescue, dropped me at the Clinic where I joined Jean and Jennifer - and after about 20 minutes Cathy and Carol joined us!  So we were a crowd - a little flock? - and Maggie enjoyed all the company and the chattering.

The Captain meanwhile was off hunting fungi - in the churchyard just down the road.  He picked us up later and drove us both home. He is a gallant chauffeur.   I asked him if he found a more upmarket sort of fungus as we were in the posh part of town.  Any of those fancy Japanese ones we are all supposed to be cooking with nowadays?

Not that we pick and eat wild mushrooms!  Even experts can make lethal mistakes.  IF we are both on the earth when Paradise is restored - its an "undeserved kindness" so there is hope - then we shall have unnumbered Autumns in which to gather mushrooms from field and woodland.  No churchyards when the whole earth is the Paradise it was always meant to be - as "death will be no more".

Revelation 21:3-5 says:  "With that I heard a loud voice from the throne say: “Look! The tent of God is with mankind, and he will reside with them, and they will be his people. And God himself will be with them.  And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away.”  And the One seated on the throne said: “Look! I am making all things new.” Also he says: “Write, for these words are faithful and true.”"

Faithful and true.

Not one of Jehovah's promises has ever failed - or ever will fail.