A Trifling Matter

 

WHERE I AM

by me

Sand and concrete, concrete and sand

Flat standard housing, sandy coloured, new

Skies so hot, so close, so damp,

It’s like walking in the greenhouse at Kew

Or on an endless beach, no sea in view

And tropical flowers everywhere

Then yellow sand, then barbed wire, then debris

And after that, just yellow sand, stripped bare.

This is the companion poem to the one I put in a previous blog - Where I am Not.  They were both written at the time of my first experience of Planet Expat, and our first trip to visit friends in Thailand.  Both places amazed me and inspired some poems, one of which was published in an anthology: the poem Chiang Mai Sunset, which I blogged in March.

So I found one of Col's photos from our Saudi years to head the blog.

Our next Covid shots were scheduled for Tuesday.  The kind pharmacist who did mine listened patiently to my worries about being on an immuno-suppressant and explained that (a) that made me more prone to infections so I need the shot (which I knew and which is why I have them) and (b) that the effectiveness of the vaccine relies on a strong response from the immune system, which my immune system will not be able to provide. So it might be less effective in my case.  I hadn't realised that, and, in a way it put my mind at rest. I was grateful for the info.

Apparently he said to Col that he had "very strong muscles".  Which he does.  Its all that hard work in The Field that does it.

"He didn't say that to me!" I protested.  To be fair, he would probably have been more likely to have advised me to look for work in a Trifle Factory as they were short of jelly at the moment.  

And I wouldn't take such work anyway as I am firmly of the school of of thought that believes jelly has no place in a trifle.

But I had better say no more as haven't wars been caused by such trifling issues?

And talking of war, the situation in the Gulf is madness. And I feel very much for the people of Iran and the Lebanon - and for everyone caught up in it.  I have no idea why the Lebanon is being attacked. Wasn't it once called the Pearl of the Middle East?   But the whole thing defies logic. What is anyone gaining from this?  Shouldn't we, the human family,  be stopping to think why it is we haven't learnt even some basic lessons from the horrors of two wars so terrible they are called World Wars?

What is the force that is driving us to fear, hate and kill our brothers and sisters?  The Inspired Scriptures not only explain it and teach us how to resist it, but also assure us of the coming rescue.

Kiki, Lee and Jon

 

WHERE I AM NOT

by me

It’s very clear

That I’m not in Kew

Its January

And I’m not cold

There are sprinklers going

I’m in tropical gear

Trees are in green leaf

Frangipani blossom is on the table

Kiki, Lee and Jon are here.

This burst of poetry - or burst of verse - is because Kiki, no longer the tiny child of the poem/verse but a beautiful young lady, has suddenly got in touch with a mutual friend from our Uni days.  I wrote this years and years ago on our first visit to Thailand, when we were all on a jungle trip near the River Kwai.

She won't remember us, I don't think, but we do remember her.  

So I was looking over all those little poems I wrote then, Thailand being very inspiring.  And I chose this one.  I think I have posted a couple of different ones in my blogposts before.

We chose this Man Orchid as our April photo for the 2026 calendar.  All the orchids are ones Col photographed in the UK, in the wild, on his various travels.  And when I do start to feel a bit of self-pity about being housebound, I try to remember that not only am I a homebody anyway, but also that I have had plenty of travel and plenty of outings in my time.  So I have no excuse whatsoever for whingeing...  And I can always rely on Captain B to deal firmly with too much self-pity. 

And he has been bringing back some wonderful photos of Spring flowers and blossom from his excursions.

I got a letter sent to the Flower Lady as we won't be seeing her this week, and also one to Richard.  Plus I got a letter done to Beryl. She is housebound now too, and I can't visit - except via letterbox.

The Gallant Captain chauffered me to the Kingdom Hall on Thursday night, and helped me to the door. Had there been any puddles he might well have thrown his cloak over them too - who knows?

It was great to be at the meeting in person - such a boost, although I must also note how grateful I am for the Zoom provision.

Saturday, I slept reasonably well, which does help, and managed some housework, some studying and made some inroads into my territory, a large block of flats.  Surely, in the face of all that is happening in the world, many more people might be starting to wake up and realise how much we need the help of our loving Creator.

I just happened to look at the News this afternoon, after a morning at the meeting, via pixel, and an afternoon dozing on the couch, and see that situation in The Gulf is hotting up again horribly.  

The Psalmist promises us that, under the loving rule of the Kingdom of God, we shall have "exquisite delight in the abundance of peace".  It is not just that there will no more war, no more rumours of war, which is a miracle in itself, but there will no longer be unkind thoughts and unkind words .

Isn't that where all war begins?

Walking with Bluebells

 

The Bluebell 

 by Anne Bronte

A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power.

There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell.

Yet I recall not long ago
A bright and sunny day,
'Twas when I led a toilsome life
So many leagues away;

That day along a sunny road
All carelessly I strayed,
Between two banks where smiling flowers
Their varied hues displayed.

Before me rose a lofty hill,
Behind me lay the sea,
My heart was not so heavy then
As it was wont to be.

Less harassed than at other times
I saw the scene was fair,
And spoke and laughed to those around,
As if I knew no care.

But when I looked upon the bank
My wandering glances fell
Upon a little trembling flower,
A single sweet bluebell.

Whence came that rising in my throat,
That dimness in my eye?
Why did those burning drops distil —
Those bitter feelings rise?

O, that lone flower recalled to me
My happy childhood's hours
When bluebells seemed like fairy gifts
A prize among the flowers,

Those sunny days of merriment
When heart and soul were free,
And when I dwelt with kindred hearts
That loved and cared for me.

I had not then mid heartless crowds
To spend a thankless life
In seeking after others' weal
With anxious toil and strife.

'Sad wanderer, weep those blissful times
That never may return!'
The lovely floweret seemed to say,
And thus it made me mourn.

https://allpoetry.com/poem/8457985-The-Bluebell-by-Anne-Bront%C3%AB

I guess Anne must have written this bluebell poem during the unhappy days when she had to earn her living as a governess.  How sad all lives seem when seen in retrospect. But how could it be otherwise given the tragedy are are still living in?

It is bluebell season in Sussex again. So I have lived to see another one, for which I am thankful, but we can no longer go for our bluebell walk. It used to be Col, Jacks and me - a spring ritual. Now Jacks is in a wheelchair, in a Care Home, I am housebound, and Col has to go on his own. He has found a lot of photos of himself, Jacks and Bruce in Spain which he is going to take to show her on our next visit.

I need to think about what walks through bluebell woods will be like in the restored earthly paradise.  Once again, I hope we are all there to find out.

The situation in the Middle East had a moment of temporary calm on Tuesday night - I was up in the early hours taking painkillers, and turned the News on. But it all seems more insane than ever today, so who knows?

What human government can ever give us true peace and security - no matter how sincerely it might want to?

I fell deeply asleep after lunch, exhausted after a morning of doing the washing, unloading the Abel & Cole and making a rhubarb crumble (tasks which would not have exhausted me even a few years ago).   I was woken, suddenly, from a dream, by the phone.  Assuming it was Col from The Field I was busy saying : "Hello, hello Col, I can't hear you, the reception must be bad" (as it so often is from The Field), when a man's voice said: "Hello this is the Electric Something. Am I speaking to the homeowner?"  "Yes", I said, "but we don't want any more electricity thanks. We already have some." "Er..." And I put the phone down

He didn't ring back. The poor guy must have thought he had dialled the local Home for the Mentally Challenged by mistake.

Storm David

A new micro moth turned up in Col's moth hotel on the 1st of April - a genuine moth, not a mothy hoax.  I do not yet know its name though.  

Maybe one day a new and unnamed moth will turn up, and we could have the pleasure and privilege of naming it!   How about - just to pick a name at random - The Lovely Susan?

Apparently Storm David was due to arrive in the UK just in time for the Easter weekend.  There were certainly some waves on the Channel on Friday, and it was raining, off and on.  But no storm was evident over the weekend - well not down here in the South.

And Storm Colin is just about to arrive in our dining room if Col, at the next computer, does not achieve a draw with me at the Ordles (Wordle, Quordle, Octordle) that we play every morning. I don't think he is going to win, as I did rather well today, but I am hoping for a draw. Which always seems like the perfect result to me. 

We heard from Anne of the Cape and had quite a long chat by Smartphone. We were/still are talking over happy memories of expat days.  I feel guilty for being so unsociable now - I am just exhausted with the pain and everything - but talking over old times does remind me that it wasn't always like this.  It is amazing the energy you have when you are young - looking back on it that is.  You take it for granted at the time.

We have just been in Memorial season when we memorialise the death of Jesus Christ and thank Jehovah for the precious gift of the ransom.  I spent the first half of my life taking it for granted.  But now I hope that one day I will be able to thank Jehovah for that gift from a perfect heart.

There are some amazing short reels on fb at the moment, giving us glimpses of space as seen from the numerous contraptions we have sent up there.  Assuming they are all real, and not AI, we can actually see how the earth looks like from the vantage point of the moon.  We can see sunrise and sunset from the Martian point of view! 

And how lovely it looks too. What a beautiful planet Jehovah gave us, and what a splendid universe he has set it in. So I also want to thank Him for the powerful guard he has given our jewel of a home, as shown in this reel:  https://www.facebook.com/reel/1209163611242850

The Memorial

Not at Home to Callers 

 by Emily Dickinson

Not at Home to Callers 

Says the Naked Tree -- 

Bonnet due in April -- 

Wishing you Good Day --

https://www.poetrysoup.com/famous/poems/short/april

Bonnet due in April! Great. Yet another poem I wish I had written.  

I have often wanted to write about how beautiful the "naked trees" of winter are - exquisite sculptures every one.  Yet to see a human skeleton... a very different thing, even though it is of course wonderfully made. There has to be a poem in that, if I could only find it.  It is a thought that also ties in with the Memorial celebrations, held worldwide on Thursday night, after sunset.  Because all of us damaged children of Adam are dying.  We need to have that link so fatally broken in Eden restored. And that restoration comes through the ransom sacrifice of Jesus Christ - a superlative gift of love from Jehovah and from Jesus.

The photo above is of a Saffrondrop Bonnet fungus.  With the thought of Emily's poem in mind, I put the word "bonnet" into Col's gallery and this is one of the photos it came up with.

This elegant Bonnet is yet another miracle of beauty and engineering - telling us of the love and wisdom and power that went into the earthly creation.

The Memorial Bible reading continues.  And I am thinking a lot about the rescue the ransom sacrifice of Jesus holds out to all of us if we will only take hold of it.  Wednesday was a day when I was able to be busy with the Kingdom preaching work: my Bible student in the morning, and a double zoom field service session in the afternoon - doing Not Home letters and emails.

Thursday, Himself left very early for The Field. The Sandwich Fairy had done her stuff, so even at that early hour, his sandwiches were ready.  My plan for Thursday, as I am beginning this blog, is to attend the morning worship at 9:30 via pixel, if the Zoom facility is on, and get to the Memorial in the evening.  If all goes to plan, it is the one day of the year that Col is at the Kingdom Hall with me, and I can hold his hand during the prayer.

During the day I hope to have made his crumble, curried the mushrooms, done some studying, a bit more witnessing and some housework.  (And done a fair amount of sofa surfing...)  But we shall see...

Morning worship was lovely, discussing the day text, which is Luke 12:32: Have no fear, little flock, for your Father has approved of giving you the Kingdom

All plans for Thursday were carried out, including the sofa-surfing. And I had Col beside me at the Hall last night as we celebrated the Memorial of Jesus's sacrificial death.  As there were four short prayers altogether, I was able to hold his hand four times.

The text for today is this:  God loved the world so much that he gave his only-begotten Son, so that everyone exercising faith in him might not be destroyed but have everlasting life.​—John 3:16.

Which kind of says it all really.  And explains why we want to memorialise this great and loving gift.

Flowers for Anula

This is the card that Krysia sent.  It is a print from her painting Flowers for Anula Rohatiner, my Godmother 2005.

Her website is: https://www.artsy.net/artist/krysia-d-michna-nowak-1

We bought one of her paintings a long time ago, at an exhibition she had at the Philip Francis Galley in Sheffield.  It has travelled with us down the years and is now in our hall.

I put a photo of it in this blogpost:

https://sueknight2000.blogspot.com/2014/07/krysia-michna-nowak-schooldays.html

That blog was written over ten years ago...   I hope it will remind me to be grateful for having had so many happy years in retirement - and to continue to hope to have a few more.  And of course, above all to be so thankful that, through the undeserved kindness of the ransom sacrifice, I can hope to live forever in the restored earthly paradise.  I hope we all will.

Krysia also sent some photos from way back when - from when the Town Hall extension was being built.  She and my father both worked for the Town Hall at that time.  He always spoke very highly of her.

Krysia is an artist and has worked in the world of art for many years. I often wish I had had more of a vision - well any sort of vision - of what I wanted to be when I left school.  I know I did NOT want to teach, which was one of the very few careers open to us girls back then.  I would have been no use at all as a teacher.

And I most certainly did NOT want to be a nun.  NOT squared on that one.

I always wanted to write. And always wrote - even getting a few poems published - I mean properly published, not vanity published.  But it did take me many years to get my books published.  And I am very grateful to be a published author now.  I had no idea, back then, that some kind of career within journalism or publishing might have been possible.  I had no clue really.

So I have had many jobs in my lifetime, none of them very inspiring.  The last paid one was being the Boarding/Buyer  at the Dhahran Kennel Club.  And I did ten years unpaid as Membership Secretary for the Sussex Branch of Butterfly Conservation in my retirement.

But I am surprised, and so grateful, to find myself, at my age, still doing the most important work I have ever done, that is trying to tell people about the Kingdom of God.  Unpaid of course.  Jesus said, "You received free, give free." 

I managed to cover all the territory I had been allotted for the Memorial invites. And I can only hope that some will accept the invitation.

The Special Talk was on Sunday - Who Will Restore the Earth? - a very timely title, as, if we are left to ourselves, aren't we going to ruin it?

The Bible assures us that we are not abandoned to this, and that the peace of paradise will be restored earthwide.

The Memorial Bible readings have started - and what the first two days have got me thinking about is both how Jesus was acclaimed by the people, threatened by the religious leaders, and how he fulfilled Bible prophecy.

The ransom sacrifice of Jesus Christ is something we should never take for granted.

The Memorial of Jesus' death will be held worldwide on Thursday the 2nd April, after sunset.  You would be so welcome to attend at your local Kingdom Hall. You may even have got an invitation by now. We try to get as many invites delivered as we can.  I have to turn up in your letter box these days though, as I can no longer make it to the front doors.

A Hard Boiled Egg

 

This is a Blossom Underwing - a new visitor to our Moth Hotel.  It spent Sunday night with us.  Moth season has definitely begun.

Sunday I did very little. Studied in the morning and made a big veggie/bean stew for lunch. Plus a little bit of witnessing.  Monday morning was my usual two Zooms - field service with some sisters, then my siblings. The latter one ended a bit early due to my GP calling me re my blood pressure.  Then an outing (something I dread now) in the afternoon to: the garden centre, the post office, Cooks, Specsavers, the Pie Shop, and the ATM.

Very painful, and left me feeling shattered, although it was hardly any walking at all.  Blood pressure shot up after a painful night.

Katie came round on Tuesday and I was sheared. Always a shock as I like to have a lot of hair to hide behind. Plus I tend to look like a giant hard boiled egg with short hair. But anyway, I will look neat for the Memorial on Thursday week which is my aim.  A neat hard-boiled egg, for what its worth.

Wednesday was spending the morning with our Bible student, who says she would like to come to The Memorial on the 2nd April!  That seems like such a breakthrough, after so many years of knowing her.  And the afternoon was a double Zoom session - field service, getting out invitations for the Memorial.

As I am not good at managing my hair, it has now lost the lovely shape Katie left it with, and I am looking double boiled-eggy. Still a lot neater though, so I will have to be satisfied with that.