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.

Alison Brackenbury at Furnace Farm

We decided on a Moth calendar for 2025 - 2025! - and spent Tuesday afternoon choosing some of Captain Moth-Butterfly's lovely moth shots to go on it.  Though I have decided to use the shot of a moray eel (not a moth) displaying its teeth to head this blog, as it was also my dental check up on Tuesday. Captain B kindly chauffered me - his car is still AWOL - and while I was under the cosh he took my car off for its winter wash and wax at Tesco's.  

And, hurray! - I got a bit of positive health news. A rare creature these days.  My dentist is happy with my teeth and my dental routine.  My next appointment is fixed for May next year.

Will I be here then?  What state will my teeth be in? And what state will the world be in?!

We will soon know,  It's November and the end of the year is hurtling towards us.

And we heard this week that Donald Trump has been elected as President of the USA.  I wish him all the best with it, the same I would have wished Kamala Harris had she been elected.  It is an impossible job, given that we were not designed for it.  As the Hebrew Scriptures warn "it does not belong to man who is walking even to direct his step".

Time continues to rush me along, so I have gone back to this poem by Alison Brackenbury, which seems to become truer by the year.

Staying at Furnace Farm

by Alison Brackenbury

All houses have noises.  In Maggie's old house
I hear a rush.  It is taps, I think, water.
Unsteady with dreams, I go to the window.
No rain beats the curtain.  The night is half over.

I have heard time.
She ran down the stairs
like a girl to her lover.

Yes, time runs so fast.  And the news is not improving.  The floods in Spain are terrible - the scenes on the News are almost beyond belief. People caught up in the torrent would have had no chance.  It has led to a great deal of anger too against the authorities there - headlines tell of both King and Prime Minister being attacked by the crowd when they went to the scene.  It seems there should have been warnings about the extraordinarily heavy rainfall to come, and there were not.

A warning is being sounded now, worldwide - a warning that will save all who pay attention to it, and bring us safely through to the restored earthly paradise.  Please look at the prophecy at Daniel 2:44, which tells of an astounding change soon to come to the earth.  We will soon have a perfect and loving government over the earth, and one that can bring the natural forces into perfect harmony - the perfect harmony that prevailed in Eden.

A Bracket in Binsted Woods (and a Flare-Up)

This is a Red-belted Bracket that Col took in Binsted Woods.  He heard it had been seen, hunted it down, and shot it - the humane way! - and got this magnificent photo.   And we made this photo our November calendar photo.  

The wild Bracket herds seem to have deserted the woods, alas.  Col has not been able to find one since.

I hope that one day we will be wandering through the Autumn woods of paradise picking mushrooms for our supper. I wouldn't risk it in this system of things, as even experts can make lethal mistakes when gathering fungi, and we are not experts.

Yet, having said that, my father, from Eastern Europe (Belarus/Poland) grew up in a culture where mushroom picking was the norm, and people usually survived it. I guess it was like that here once.

And I need to keep reminding myself that if we are there then we will be full of energy, in perfect health, because I am going through a bad arthritis week - knees, hands, especially left knee.  I don't understand why my knees hurt so much as they are artificial knees, as is one shoulder. That still hurts too.

Did they make them too realistic, or what?

The highlight of Saturday, and of my week, was a shepherding visit from two of the brothers.  Hard to explain how encouraging and comforting it was, especially after a week of pain - I was back on my Zimmer briefly, and even thought I might have to wotsapp them to cancel, or to warn that it might take me a while to answer the door.

However, thank God, the painkillers kicked in, and I was able to let them in, Zimmerless, and was so encouraged and built-up by their visit.  They are so young compared to me (and indeed who isn't these days?), but what wisdom Jehovah can give to all who will come to him and be taught by him. Their visit both encouraged me and taught me.  And I hope to include some valuable information about improving my studying in another blog.  If I do, it should be under the heading of Quail.   For one thing, it will help to keep it clear in my own head.

The care we receive within the congregation - the care that Jehovah and Jesus make sure we receive - is beyond anything "the world" can offer.

And I do feel guilty that I do not deserve all that appreciation and encouragement - but isn't it a reminder that what Jehovah wishes to give to all of us is "undeserved kindness", through the ransom sacrifice of his beloved only-begotten son?

I just wish everyone in the world, especially my family and friends - and my special fb friends like Marcin of Oz - could be gathered safely into the congregation family of the God of all comfort, Jehovah.  I guess I can only keep encouraging them to accept a Bible study course from their local JW congregation.  And hope and pray that they will.

Silver Foxes

  

At the moment I am getting lots of Friendship Requests on my Facebook page.  They all seem - SEEM - to be from men of "a certain age", all handsome, with silvery hair, and all widowed.  They are called "silver foxes" I believe.  I always feel like accepting them as friends, and suggesting that we meet up on the next Dr.Phil episode about Catfishing.

But I don't.  I just ignore them, and would advise anyone else to do the same.  Sadly many people have not and have lost thousands of dollars to these scams - hundreds of thousands sometimes! - scams of which the men in the photographs are innocent, most not even knowing their pictures are being used in this way.

The fox in the photo above - a red one, not a silver one -is innocent too. It is one of our foxes that Captain B photographed.  They come and they go and occasionally raise their children in our quiet gardens. They make the best of the ruined paradise we all have to live in until God's Kingdom comes - even though they are completely innocent of what has gone wrong.

This is the week for our flu vax and our next Covid vax... hopefully our bodies and immune systems will cope.  But, oh dear... we have more medical stuff coming up - and I know we are grateful for it. But I long for the time we all have perfect health, which is something we - the damaged, dying children of disobedient Adam - have never yet known.

Talking of medical issues, we saw George at our family Zoom on Monday - he popped in briefly to say hello having just come back from his first cataract operation. All has gone well apparently, and the second one is scheduled quite quickly.

I remember Jean telling me that her cataract operation gave her back the world of vivid colour she did not realise she had lost.  

I have cataracts coming - we all will, in our current damaged state, if we live long enough - and, IF I live long enough will have to have them operated on at some stage.

Can't say that I look forward to it.  But I am grateful that we still have a National Health Service to do it.