Christmas Wooly Angels

 

It is Christmas week and once again the great nits have been er, hold on, that should read 'Great Knitters' have been showing off their talents by knitting small angels and placing them on railings across the town.  This has become another of the many Christmas activities that we now must have, or the season loses something.  I note passers-by have taken all of them, one by one.  The post box has not been crowned with a Xmas hat as yet, at least not one near me anyway.  Other places have covered all sort so things with such needlework.  I suppose they enjoy it, they gather together, make friends, have a laugh and enjoy the hobby.  No harm in it.  I have not joined them however.

Christmas joy continues with Rishis refusing to budge on nurses pay.  I wonder why?  He will not interfere in the rail strike, apart from paying millions to the rail companies, and has ignored the postal strike, as far as we know.  Clearly they are out to ensure leaving the EU meant making the most of turning workers into serfs.  Rishi would like this, I suspect he considers himself a Maharajah.  

Jeremey Clarkson has encouraged stripping Meghan and parading her through the streets, but he has mumbled an apology, far down the Mail Online.  

Ambulance staff are striking, at least those not worn out by exhaustion, as indeed the nurses striking have been.  The millionaires with their private health hospitals care not.

People are watching prices rise, the water people have just increased by monthly bill to £19, I suspect to pay for all the dumping sewage fines they have received.  Gas and electric rises will come in a couple of months. 

My latest pie delivery arrived in time for Christmas.

Nicola meanwhile is trying to allow men in skirts to be called 'women.'  This is another of the satanic episodes that have been unleashed in recent years in the UK, and indeed elsewhere in the 'west.'

First it was accepting gays, then same-sex marriage, now it is 'trans.'  We are plumbing new depths of lunacy in the nation.  The churches which have failed to oppose this are dying out, those who follow scripture will grow but face constant opposition, much of this from the police, who are now the 'Thought police' in the UK.  I almost said 'Stasi.'

Christians must be aware this will increase, and soon prayer and Christian activities will be 'hate crimes.'  I have mentioned this before, but few are listening.

Boxing Day 2021

 

The problem with having Christmas Day on Saturday is that many folk think Sunday is a Monday.  I am convinced some folks were half way to work this morning before remembering what the day was.  For many others the presence of family or friends, and maybe the weight of over indulgence proved too much for them as few indeed arrived at the Kirk this morning.  The teeming rain did not help either. 

However, we gathered, sung several songs badly, and without the technicians being available we had to read the words out off a book rather than view them on screen.  This has not happened for so long some among us had forgotten how to read!  It was clear we had all forgotten how to sing.

 

 

Soon enough I was back home, the shepherds and angels remaining behind while I indulged myself in roast potatoes, not black like yesterday, and a chicken concoction far too big for me.  However, with some effort I managed, and washed this down with Plum Vodka.  A bit strong with the cloves dear! 

Then Joy!  The Heart of Midlothian game against Ross County was available and I was able to shout abuse at the TV director for failing to do his job properly once again.  Why does he spend so much time looking at the back of players heads?  Just watch the game mate!  Surely this is the easiest job in TV, why make it hard?  Anyway, we won of course, so that provided more cheer.  Now, lying ahead of me are two more games on Now TV via SKY.  It is so hard deciding whether to watch here or go and watch from my bed...

 

Two days holiday now follow.  This is time for the wrapping paper, empty boxes, the ones without cats sitting in them, and other assorted rubbish, including that strange uncle that comes only at Christmas to be discarded, recycled or dumped.  Peace and quiet, unless the kids are still around, and a time for sleeping off excess now arrives.

I hope your Christmas has been a good one, Jesus is still here, no longer a baby but a King, talk to him, he will listen.  He even arranges a driver when the rain is falling, or at least he did for me today anyway.  

You do realise that this time next year will be a new year?  Jings!

 

 

'Angels' on the Fence

As I sauntered out towards St P's and the sorting office this morning I noticed these 'angels' on the fence opposite.  It appears to be the thing these days for women's groups to knit such items for Christmas, sometimes decorating pillar boxes and other street furniture in an attempt to promote 'good feelings.'  It is happening in many places and was seen last year also if I remember right.  There are one or two groups who make use of our hall on occasions to sit and knit, croquet, spin and gossip for a few hours and occasionally put on a display.  I suspect they have a hand in this.

 
The sun took some time before it beat off the cloud cover, making this chopped down tree stand somewhat bare against the sky.  I would have had more pics but I was carrying cards to the church on my way and carrying a packet back from the sorting office afterwards.  The postie woman claims she knocked but I never heard her, she would not lie but she finds it difficult to hammer the door, the other man who does this round manages that well!  So I had to walk down not knowing what I would find and all I found was 'Nutmeg' a Scottish football magazine!  This thick item is too thick to bend and will not go through so that meant walking for a mile or two just for this.  I might get round to reading it eventually, so far I have three book tokens to make use off, and I am smiling as I think there is one more on the way.  

I failed to take the angel home, who knows where that might lead?  Instead I was satisfied with photos and notice many have already made homes for themselves, the brightly coloured ones first of course.  I will be out in town tomorrow (twice! Such excitement!) and who knows what these wimmen will have done elsewhere?  

  
Jeremy is in trouble apparently for calling Theresa 'Stupid!'  Quite why this is bad I fail to comprehend, are we not allowed to be honest?  On top of this manufactured row the Speaker himself was confronted by (a Tory) female MP claiming he had called her 'stupid.'  How strange that such an attitude can be found in the House while yesterday a Scots MP was told to 'Go back to your own country' by Nicholas Soames (Churchill's grandson) and yet this was not considered racism and dealt with by the speaker.  What is more serious, racism or speaking the truth?

At least we are not the US...

Guardian Angel

Crossing the park for the first time this week I asked him about it, "So, where were you?"
"I was here all along."
"Were you? Were you here, while I suffered full blown 'Man Flu' and you did nothing about it?"
"I wouldn't say I did nothing about it, you did stock up on all essentials, Isobrofen, Conovia, food....." At that point I interrupted him, "I had to rush out early for bread and milk and failing lottery ticket on Wednesday, in spite of my condition" I sniveled.
"Yes, but you did need the air and you really didn't need the Lottery ticket did you? 'My God shall supply all your need' it says somewhere doesn't it?" He gave his smug smile and ducked as I sneezed loudly enough to frighten the pigeons from the tree they were settling into.
"Not that one no!" I muttered through a much deepened voice. "I needed one that would give me millions, not one that would be added to the recycling."
"My God shall supply all your needs, it says somewhere," he repeated with a smug grin.
"So where was the 'daily bread' on Wednesday then?"
"In the shop, and a shop placed as close as you asked for it to be in 1992, remember?"
"What?"
"You asked the Father for a new home, with all amenities close by, shops, road and rail links, buses and a view North, remember?  The accommodation you had was not good enough for you then. Yet even today you are not happy."
His smug expression was beginning to annoy.
"I canny mind all I asked, and I do remember asking to NEVER have another bout of 'man Flu,' and never having to go to Sainburys for bread when sick! So why did this one arrive unwanted and unasked for?" 
"That has not been given me, but working in the snow last week when feeling the early signs of a bug might give an indication."  The smug grin became a leer I thought.
"Listen," I said pointing my grubby paws at him, "You are employed as my Guardian Angel, you are meant to stop me suffering like this!" 
"Oh, where did you read that?  It is not in the good book, is it? There is one lying on your table, I note it hasn't been opened for a week or two, maybe it is worth a peek?"
I aimed a lick at him, "I have been to sick to read!"  
"No point in kicking something that you will not hit eh?" he smarmily grinned. "Reading the book might have helped there also."
I decided to ignore him and cough my way through the town.  It was crowded with people coughing their way through the town! A couple of stalls had arrived early, people shoved past one another full of the Christmas spirit, well dressed men and half dressed women made for places of refreshment, cars parked where they ought not, and the supermarkets were crowded with coughing people grumbling that everyone was coughing and spluttering and shoving them in similar fashion to the way they were behaving. The rain drizzled and the sky darkened as a line of cars left the supermarket car park at a stately two miles an hour, shoving themselves into the traffic on the main road they trundled along joyful that Christmas was upon them. 
"I still don't see why I should be sick this week?" I grumbled as I wandered home. 
"Everyone else has it, why not you," Harold the angel asked.
"Several reasons, 1, because I hate it, 2, because I am me, 3, three because it is awful."
"Hmmm, indeed it is hateful, although I have never experienced it myself, " he grinned in that annoying manner of his, "however being 'you' may not be reason enough not to endure hardship, others suffer, why not you?"
"But if the Father loves me why do I suffer?"
"He loves everyone, and his Son gave himself for them all remember. Even if they reject him on that day he will allow them to go, but he really hates the thought of it. he wants them all, even you!  Many of his children suffer real pain, long lasting and painful, yet still keep the faith, how come you grumble"
"Aye, right enough, I can appreciate their suffering when I endure this, it does make me wonder how folks in some parts of the world cope with their pains. At least I have cold cures, for what they are worth, chemists nearby, and the NHS.  I should be more grateful. I ought to be more grateful for his coming into the world by Mary the virgin for folks like me, doesn't appear to have got him far these days."
"Read the book man!  It says 'he will look on the suffering of his soul and be satisfied,' and he will be too. Stop girning and read the book again. Time you spent giving thanks and less grumbling about 'suffering' and not having enough. 
Back home I emptied several waste baskets of used tissue paper opened the windows, cleared the mess, made the dinner and found life returning slowly. Grateful I am not struck down with anything really serious, long lasting and painful. Grateful also a better life is possible, if I take it.......


.

Harold

It had been a hard day, a very hard day.
He struggled slowly up the stairs, threw his paperwork on the desk and sank into the chair.
On the sofa Harold grabbed the brandy bottle and gulped deeply.
"Oi!. You're not suppose to do that!" he shouted."Not only is that mine but as a Guardian Angel you don't drink!"
"You are of course right," said Harold, passing over the bottle,"But I am not a 'Guardian Angel,' I am just an 'Angel.' And my role is that of messenger, to bring the bosses word to you." He placed his feet on the small table used as a stool, put his hands over his face and muttered, "It was only when I was sent to you that I realised I had to guard you also. Now I am an alcoholic!"
Taking the bottle from his protector he swigged it down, noticing it was still full. "How do you do that?" he asked.
"None of your business. But after that drive it is a necessary act - for myself!" He groaned and curled up on the sofa.
"You don't need sleep either mate!"
"Not till I met you I didn't murmured Harold."
It had been a hard day. The bug was still hanging around and his concentration was not one hundred percent. Poor Harold must have forced several vehicles to brake and left buses, impatient women drivers and 'white van men,' wondering why. Driving with more confidence, but still without sufficient intelligence he had stalled turning corners, braked too hard, ignored road signs, held up traffic, mistimed roundabouts and really worried the cows in that field!
"The thing to remember," said the instructor," You are going faster, and this shows you are improving." He still wore the crash helmet however, and had grabbed the wheel when that nutter yelled as he passed us. The rain hindered his view, the roads were slippery, and fellow road users remained far closer than the 'two second rule' suggested. Of course the sun came out in between the rain and aimed straight for his eyes. The rear window was smeared with muck and the washer did not work making the rear view mirror useless. Heading home the sun took up position in the same window ad attempted to blind him. On top of this every village was a thousand years old and the roads had not been mended since Henry the second was King of England.
"Do you realise I sweat?" asked Harold shaking. "No other Angel does. Cold sweat every time you go get into the car. I asked for a transfer last week but the boss threatened to transfer me to Montana, so I decided to stay. I can only take so much Country music."
"Lies, all lies." He said as he lay on the floor staring at the ceiling, the road still swimming across his eyes. Mentally his feet pressed the clutch pedal and he found himself glancing to right and left checking non existent mirrors.
"Look." Harold said shock in his voice, "I am getting gray hairs! That's your fault. No other Angel has gray hairs, just me. I will be the only bald angel soon."
"It wasn't that bad."
"Not bad?"
"We lived."
"Only because I stopped the Renault from hitting you on the roundabout."
"I was in the right,he was miles away and had time to brake."
Harold sat upright and stared at him. "You give way to traffic coming from the right. You ignored him and went round the roundabout. No wonder he screamed at you that way."
He knew Harry was correct but decided to check his Highway code, dated 1976, and confirmed what he already knew. "It was near the end of the day, I was tired, a little lack of concentration was to be expected."
Harold groaned the groan of one under stress. "Another lesson next week, and if he passes the test......." His thoughts trailed away. "I may need assistance. I wonder what Michael is doing these days?"" Praise the Lord," he muttered, but there was an element of sarcasm in his voice.