The Sunday Post...

Living Death at St Ps

Living Death at St Paul's

Sunday 10:30 am

Grateful for the lift given to me this morning, a mile is a long way to walk these days, I gladly entered the building. As we arrived a large white car proceeded before us, we waited patiently while the driver parked in the next space.  From the car a young blonde decanted and headed towards the church.  We men looked, muttered 'Hmmm...' quietly so his wife could not hear, and thought, this looks good.  I decided to make it my place to greet her.

However, Inside, while I obtained a glass of water to avoid drying up during the service, the young lady, and they are all young to me now, was greeted by Graham and Jenny on the doors in their friendly and efficient manner, and so was I when I walked through the door.  Having been greeted I turned to take my seat in the usual place.

Then it happened!

The blonde was sitting in my seat!

I gasped at Graham, ‘She’s in my seat!’

‘I said sit wherever you like, so she did,’ he replied grinning too happily for my liking.

'But that's MY seat!' I gasped quietly while a cold bead of sweat ran down my neck.  'I've sat there for nearly 10 years,' I muttered.  Graham sniggered somewhat too keenly for my liking, especially as his permanent seat at the back had been claimed already by Jenny.  He was not going to be homeless this morning.  'And you are not allowed to chuck her out either,' he ordered like the sergeant major he wished he was.  He wandered off to greet others while I stood staring into space.  I came ready for anything this morning, but not something as shocking as this!  She was in my seat!  Not only was she happily ensconced there, but all around people were greeting her while aiming more smirks in my direction.  Wars have been begun for less than this!  

Looking around the hall I noticed all the seats at the end of a row were taken. A very Anglican approach. The only empty seats were at the front. 

At the front! No-one sits at the front of an Anglican church, no-one! I began to gasp again.

Gordon however, stood alongside me offering condolences. ‘You could sit on one of the empty seats in the middle of the row,’ he offered somewhat fatuously. No-one chooses to sit in the middle, that is just not done, unless you are accompanying someone. I noticed his sneaky leer as he spoke, he too has his seat booked, though he sits in the middle because she has told him to, and that's that. 'Five empty seats at the front on the left,’ he said, his finger pointing in that direction.  The front!  I began to shake.  'Sit ant the front, and be near all the action,' he said slowly and with cruel intent.  Cold sweat was beginning to run down my neck by this time. My shaky knees were shaking, my trembling hands trembled, and Gordon asked if he should hold my glass before I washed the carpet. This I declined, mostly because my hand was gripping the tumbler hard and I feared I might break it in letting go. I also needed a wet blanket to hold onto at that moment.

I kept glaring at my seat, it had my name on it too! In fact, all the seats have my name on them, I scrawled it upon them one day while no-one was around, just in case.

The blonde did not move, it was not the done thing to throw her out, and people were beginning to gather. The shaking continued, cold beads continued to run down my neck, I stared hard at each seat, including my own now in colonial possession, and prayed, almost out loud.

Glory be!  Just then I saw an empty end seat, though it was on the second row from the front to the right.  This would have to do, Hallelujah! Sweating, I barged past the crowd being greeted by smirk and his wife, forced my way to the free seat, triumphantly grasped the chair, spread myself across the next one also, just in case someone joined me, a trick I learned while travelling on the London Underground all those years ago, and rested while the steam rose from my now, relaxed body.

How close was that? 

Sunday Surprise

Flowers abounding in the carpark at church.

The Greek lass that cares for them does a good 'natural' job here.  However, that said there is little sign of Bees and other beasties this year.  I usually have them at the windows constantly, this year I have seen only one worker Bee.  Few other beasties also.  The wet weather may have killed them off, but I read that in the highlands the midges are proliferating because of that.  Good luck tourists!

The sun has shone, and I have done my best to sleep through it, that comes from waking in the middle of the night and not being able to get back to sleep.  

Kinda sad that Joe has had to accept defeat in his bid to be re-elected.  It was clear he would rather be sitting at home with his thuggish dogs rather than continue to struggle with the greater thuggish dog Trump, but he did it for the nation, and indeed for all our sakes.  Quite what will happen now I am unsure.  Kamala Harris looks likely to replace him, black, and a woman, well that will go down well with the white flag waving, gun toting, fake Christians that have been placing white gauze on their ear to identify with the fake ex-president.  As Trump said years ago, 'If I stand for president I will run as a Republican, as they are stupid and will vote for me whatever I say.'  He may be proven right again this year.  The world waits in fear, though that nice Mr Putin will be encouraging the St Petersburg bots to increase their workload.  

Sunday Meditations

Still stuck indoors, this time because my arm aches from that fall and I resist the joy of walking in the rain to meet people.  So, I read the sheet for today and fine three interesting, possibly connected readings.  I say possibly because the reading follow the Anglican liturgy and these do not always make sense to me, they do not always fit together, so why use them I say?

Anyway, in Ezekiel 2:1-5 we see the young man respond to coming face to face with God.  Not unnaturally he falls on his face.  The supernatural reality of God is often ignored by many.  Their God is one cut down to a size that fits their understanding.  Sadly, our God is way beyond us and we, the created creatures, have to face that reality and bow down to his supernatural being.  How marvellous that that being is 'Love,' otherwise we would all have been destroyed long ago.  

The meeting with God is not accidental, Ezekiel did not 'just happen to be in the area at the time.'  No, this was God calling on a man he knew thoroughly and to whom he would give a task.  God knows all about those he calls.  Nothing about us can surprise him now.

Ezekiel's job was simple.  Here he was in Babylon, miles from Jerusalem where the people had been sent after God called the Babylonians to destroy the city in 586 BC.  Yet the strange thing was the Israelites did not consider they had done anything wrong!  Sin was not recognised and the move to Babylon was not understood as punishment, in spite of what the prophets had told them.  

Now Gods call was to Ezekiel to speak to an 'obstinate and stubborn people' as Gods prophet, and he would know what had happened to previous prophets!  Abuse and even death for some.  He is being sent to a rebellious people who will not listen.  How is that for a job description?  'See those people, they will not listen, but go speak to them and be rejected anyway,' says God.  Of course you might get hurt...

The thing is Ezekiel obeyed.

Mark 6:1-6.  The thing about leadership is a good leader goes first into any battle.  He does not ask his men to do what he has not done or is unwilling to do, he leads from the front.  Having sent prophets to the people at the right time God takes human flesh and walks among us himself.

He now takes on the responsibility of confronting sinful rebellious people face to face, and even worse, he does this among those he grew up with in Nazareth.  

The Mark passage is very short and does not contain the passage read by Jesus in the synagogue.  Isaiah 61.

'The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor.  He has sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.' 

Jesus then stated this passage has been fulfilled today, something which astonished them, but then his words indicated he would also bring in the Gentiles.  This led to a reaction, mentioning his background as a mere carpenter and now telling them he was something great!  The gentile bit was the end for them.  They attempt to kill him but he walks through them and leaves.  A prophet is without honour is his own house indeed.  His family did not support him at the time.   

The supernatural God appearing as a man, not quite the messiah they expected, and talking about the gentiles was not a good way to make friends in such a village.  Jesus of course would have expected a reaction, did he not know them, but he was surprised just the same at their lack of faith.  I wonder if this indicates their faithfulness to the Jewish faith up to that time?

Note how Jesus obeyed the call to preach. 

Mark 6:7-13.  Jesus moves on but sends out his 12 disciples two by two, with clear instructions.  He gave them power over demons, power to heal the sick, and permission to preach repentance.  This was their chance to learn how to depend on the supernatural power of God rather than their own abilities.

They took nothing with them but God himself, and their needs would be met on the way.  What a lesson in apostleship!  Some would reject, some listen, some healed, some demons removed.  That is the world Jesus wishes all of us to participate in, not a s such preachers but in daily life.

Note how the disciples obeyed and went out.

Do I believe him?  Would I go out?

Do I trust him daily when in Tesco or on the bus?  Is this supernatural God not around when I need healing?  Or have I just not listened to him again?  And am I willing to be rejected by family, friends, and neighbours for following Jesus when the world is against him?

Weather & Biscuits

Something wrong here.  

This map, showing today's weather, appears to infer that we are covered in cloud down here in England while Scotland is bathed in sunshine.  Surely that canny be right?  It has certainly been a day of lightish cloud today, cloud not wishing to move on, but Scotland without cloud?  That's abnormal!

Across the very north it is cloud covered, as you would expect way up there  further north than Moscow.  Rain, hail, snow and storm you would take for granted, but almost clear everywhere?  This is a sign of global warming if nothing else is!

   

I decided to do the Spring Clean, you remember I began this about five years ago, before Covid!  This means moving things, hoovering, dusting etc, and dumping whatever lies beneath the layers of grime.

This began because of the workman fixing the floorboards that creaked a bit too much for the neighbours.  Moving things meant revealing smut that had grown over time, and once removed, the floorboards fixed, I was left with a desire for more.  

Last week I began with the record cabinet.  

The records, some good ones, most ex-library, Rolling Stones, Miles Davis, and various classical types, have not been used for at least a dozen years.  While I have an aged player it canny be connected to anything, not that I wish to play any, I don't want any good ones scratched now.  Things were moved, unused muscles put to use, and much satisfaction gained form the enterprise.  Next up I thought, will be under this desk.  Under there I may find dead cats, ancient coin horde or possibly a tenant or two who had disappeared, you never know.   However, though feeling the effects of actual work, something I have avoided religiously, I observed through my clammy window the front required weeding, and that bush had to be cut down to allow light into the ground floor apartment.  Hmmm, thought I, I'm in the mood, let's do it.  

A couple of hours later, having swung the axe, well those clipper things, vegetation was spread across the front.  I had chopped the bush, picked many weeds, cleared one third of the front and much of the middle when I realised I was dying.  My knees would not take any more, so I dumped one very full bag of greenery where it should not be dumped and retired to make coffee and stuff my face.

Since then I realised my mistake.

One job a week was the aim, not two.  One job and then allow the ageing bones to relax, but not me!  By Saturday I was not useful for anything, though I had to visit Sainsburys early.  Sunday came and I was all for sleeping, however, I was detailed to read 1 Samuel 3:1-10.  The call of Samuel.  So I went.  Sloth like I raced along the road, the sun shone, the weather was pleasant, the joggers and the cars all passed me by.  In church, all the young women asked for me as always.  

Yes they did!  

Tired and not thinking clearly, my mind floating throughout, at the close of the service while leaving I attempted to remove a Bumble Bee that had become trapped in the doorway.  A cloth was used to direct it towards the open door where I tried to shake it off.  The brute would not leave me!  So I stepped outside to place him on the uncut grass with wee flowers suitable for such beasties - and fell flat on my face.  My knees did not like this and as I struggled to rise one of the Nigerian young men lifted me up.  Good job he was there.  Two other men stood and watched, neither able to lift in their own aged poor physical condition, though Ian removed my wallet to 'make my task lighter' he said.  

I may get it back next week.  

How embarrassing!  Good job I got a lift home after that.  

Tee Hee, at least this puts me off cleaning this week, that will wait until next at the earliest.   So it is eat and sleep and watch the cricket I have been led into.  

In spite of it all, once I had eaten and slept that off, I realised there was no bread.  This means either a trip to the shop in the morning or bake biscuits.  I chose the latter.  Here are two, untasted, imitation oat biscuits.  These you will never see in the shops!  To the side are two 'Wartime Shortbread' biscuits, also not available in the shops, now or later.  However, in 45 minutes I have provided something to fill a gap and give me reasons to grumble again.  I ache all over again...back to watch Sri Lanka lose at cricket.

Poppy

 

 

A Sunday stroll in the sunshine this morning.  The bright glowing red of the wild poppies growing beside the garden wall joined the bright yellow flowers attracting beasties of all kinds elsewhere on my route.  Some folks I know have been going around those big houses with gardens or large grounds, lucky them as this is the time of year to see flowers bloom and gardens flourish.

Me, I will be in Sainsburys tomorrow.

 

I note the 'Daily Mail' has banned me again, it must have been something I said.  Tee Hee.  I was looking for news but there appears to be little on there.  The royals, boxing, celebs and emptiness fill the pages with rare actual news, and that pushed far down.  The implosion of the Tories is reflected on those empty pages.

Thus the day ends.

The last football of the day has finished successfully, I have not eaten properly as I could not be bothered, and sleep is fitfull these days, 5 hours followed by several 20 minute snoozes.  Time to start one now.

 

Sunday Prayer

It was the usual half asleep start this morning.  Breakfast, coffee, weaker than usual as Sainsburys do not appear to be stocking the Costa Rica stuff these days, and get ready for the off.  Naturally it was teeming rain.  I specifically prayed for dry weather when I went out but it had not arrived when I left.  In fact, as I walked I realised the rain was stopping, and had almost cleared by the time I hobbled into the church.

Lovely!

As expected the girls soon surrounded me, I was forced to hug Jenny, Caroline, Julie, Sylvia and almost the vicar with his hands held out!  I wish he would not wear those robes!  Anyway, the service went on in the usual formally informal fashion, and at the 'intercessions,' I struggled to find my glasses so I could read the full page I had prepared lovingly, and limped up to the microphone.  I spoke, the crowd reacted, some expected a sombre prayer full of tact and hushed adoration, er, I am somewhat more relaxed.  I prayed re the kids, mentioning the miserable old people who complain about noise, and us er, 'Young 'Uns' who delight to see the kids here.  Some cycnical reaction here, I know not why.

Afterwards, communion over, tea and coffee being spilt as much as the powdered covered cakes someone foolishly made for the kids which were being splattered across the floor, three people reacted well to the prayer.  This was good, not all would react, and sadly I did not get a chance to speak to all.  The vicar did speak to me, making no mention of what I said talking instead of his week ahead at some conference re church leadership.  When we talked I realised that he is a bit lonely.  Here he is as leader, of two churches, but he has no real deep friendships here.  This type of church does not have people who share friendships, they are all a little apart.  Partly this is due to family needs, work and the distance apart, also many have been here for years and know one another well, but something is missing here.  I found this strange at first, possibly little town syndrome.  I can call most here friends in one respect each week, but something is missing.  I think the vicar finds this also, and his job is a lonely one.

Anyway, having spoken to the important people, and all my women, I made for home in what was now sunshine.  I stopped one young woman and her 7 year old boy who was spashing in puddles as they walked. 

"Has he done this all the way?" I asked.

"Yes, every puddle!" she said laughing.

I told him he would enjoy it further down the road as the pavement was flooded in places and off they went, he eager, she wondering how to keep him clean and considering whether she ought to have had a girl instead.

At home I ate, fussed about nothing, ate, slept, and ached after walking so far.  A good Sunday, considering I got on well with most, did not get stoned as I expected, and found several still oppose the Bishops Stonewall purposes.

Interesting that one newcomer was in this morning.  I saw her here a few weeks ago, she and a friend came from London, and I susected them as lesbians, they had the marks.  I might be wrong and was unable to speak to her today, I wonder what she thought?  

Anyway, I thank those that prayed for me, and look forward to the next time in a couple of months...

 

Rebel Church This Week

We rebelled yesterday.  The united service with our fellow church was on.  We did not go!  

The other church is High Church, all liturgy and candles.  Our church is Low, very Low, but not Low enough for me.  

An idea was formed that we would meet at our place, in spite of the united meeting.  So we did.

Several mentioned this idea, and five of us arrived to see it out.

One or two would have been there had they not been involved elsewhere.  So we few, we happy few, sat and yacked for a while.  It was not great, we had no organiser, and next time, in six months time, we may do the same again.  However, we will be better organised.

This rebelling is tiring.  It involves thinking, and this tires me these days.  However, the wee meet was good for me and left me happy for most of the day.  I even survived two football matches happily, in spite of referees.

Nothing else happened...

Sunday Mask.

The 'wear a mask' and the 'anti-maskers' are out again.  The increase in Covid is being seen across the globe.   However, if you catch it here there is no way to report this, unless you waste the doctors time by informing him, and lets face it, he does not wish to know.   Boris pretended the virus had gone away and ignored the deaths following, just to look good in the press.  Now, while the latest version, and there appear to be many versions rises we cannot report this, so the nation has no idea how many are suffering Covid, rather than colds or flu.  If it turns out to be another pandemic will the UK be ready?  

No, of course not.

For a start Sunak is to busy lining his pockets and watching the infighting between ex-PMs to care.  He also cares little re the virus, or indeed anything else, if there is no money to be made out of this.  He may however, get a backhander from some health organisation for equipment they sell him.

Anyway, I decided I was too tired for going out today.  I noticed on Friday just how tired I was coming back from Sainsburys, I juts wanted to yell at everybody for no reason.  Today is not much better.  The virus may have passed but the legacy hangs on.  Sleep and eat is the cure.

Oh, and cheap Brandy...

And I winder if the long term effects of Covid are responsible for the removal of dress sense from men, and men of a certain age at that?  The number of men in shorts, T-shirts and baseball caps, making them suitable for extras in a Donald Trump rally, wandering about the streets imagining they are 'hip,' or 'trendy.'  I keep seeing them pass by.  Why?  What is it about the weather that leaves men senseless?  Now, young men badly dressed we can understand, but few dress like this, only men of a 'certain age,' possibly because the mind is rotting, possibly because the wife has departed, possibly because they are just dumb?  I know not why, but it is a bad sign.  I am now looking forward to dropping temperatures and warm coats, just to see if these men can grow up.

A Pigeon Post

The trouble with not feeling to good is that things do not get done.  This week I am feeling OK, so I have piles of washing, and piles of ironing to do.  The last shirt has been used, those lying there since last summer muct now be ironed!  This could wear me out again!

Sunday I felt terrific.  I ate well, drank sweet coffee and wandered down to the Kirk quite well, for me.  I felt good, confident and ready.  I had to be, I was doing the intercessions.  That is, at one point I rose above the mob and prayed (from my well prepared sheet).  This went down well with the vicar and wife, mostly because I prayed for them!  Mentioning her as a grannie, 'and so young' went down well with her.  Nobody among the congregation mentioned anything other than they.  

But as I came home I realised how much the churches prayers had lifted me and prepared me for my short slot.  The people's prayers make such a difference.  

I felt it on Sunday. 

I ought to have prayed for a woman to come and do my ironing!  Not that this would work with that lot!

Boring Sunday

It's one of those weeks.  Nothing is happening, nothing excites.  

I sit here, staring out the window, seeking inspiration.  All that comes to me is a desire to go to sleep.

The world is silent, even for a Sunday evening.  What the weatherman calls a 'breeze' is shaking the trees opposite, while clouds, often grey, scud across the sky, occasional, blue peeking out.  Dogs are not barking, children are not shouting, and I suppose this is caused by feeding time at the individuals home zoo.

Football is boring.  Church was boring, walking there tiring.  Food unappetising.

It's all joy and happiness this week!

I think it's time for sleep...

Slovenly Sabbath

This was the threat today, along with thunder and lightning and heavy rain.

Feeling a bit peaky over the past couple of days I was intending to remain indoors anyway, so I spent some time watching the weather on 'Microsoft Edge' bringing the rain across at the time I normally leave on a Sunday morn.

They said it would arrive at 10 minutes to 10, but it failed to come.

They said it would be 'light rain,' and it did arrive at 10 minutes past 10, and failed to drop any rain.

'Moderate rain,' was to follow shortly after, the clouds darkened, but no rain fell.

Innit just marvellous!

On any other Sunday I would have proceeded out, as the weather looked OK, and got drenched half way down the road.  Today nothing.  I will trust the BBC from now on.

So, instead of trekking out I remained indoors intent of reading one of these.

I have one I bought back in the 80s when the NIV first arrived.   It is showing signs of wear, not always because of constant reading I should emphasise, and requires to be put aside on the 'retired book shelf.'  It was as I glanced at the scribbles inside the front pages I found a little thing from the late 70s.  I was in the hospital, and short of cash.  One Sunday evening I found myself full of 'faith,' that the money I needed for the week would arrive.  At that time I required £1 a day.  Being paid on Thursdays meant I needed £3 for the week.  I knew this would arrive.

Monday morning I arrived at work as my usual happy self, "Here's old misery," said John the cook as I entered.  I ignored him, and the collection off lesser staff gathered around the front door at 7:30 in the morning.  

I remained full of faith, and on my clock card, remember them?  I found a cheque for £3.

This was a payment owned me by the NHS which had not been paid via my wages as it ought to be.

God moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform.

So many times, when down on my 'uppers' the Good Lord has provided in interesting ways.

He never leaves us.

(Mind you, he does not make us rich either!)

An answer to my query has arrived.

One of my favourite, beautiful, and highly talented nieces had sent this beer to me.

She has also sent a card which has, so far, not appeared.  This may be because of the incompetence of the Royal Mail management, or some 'dick' pinching it thing money was included.  How wrong he would be.  It may appear one day, as may others that have not arrived.  

I have spent some time in these days looking in to the 'Tour.'

Not that I am really all that interested in who wins these days but I do like watching the background scenery.  

Today and yesterday there was an abundance of small, tight knit villages.  Usually a church and a castle or some once proud, but now broken down building from the days of long ago is glanced as we pass.  These villages today were astonishing.  Crammed together cheek by jowl, as they say, it indicated something of the history of the region, though all I could think was how everyone must have known everything about everyone!  No secrets here.  

I am also impressed at men cycling 100 miles and climbing hills at 15 mph, sometimes faster.  Now, for myself I often had to climb off and push the bike, and that was going downhill!  How do these men do this?  Over 4 hours of cycling today, finishing up a steep, and very high hill, with a wonderful view, but a killer for the man who led so long and got beat at the last.

I think I will make sure I still have my Bus Pass.

Sunday Sloth

A short service today, followed by an AGM.  Add in the end of the holiday weeks, a touch of sickness and pre-arranged dates, few people were around.  However, I bravely staggered along the road, noticing how it was almost like Spring this morning.  I noticed also the marks on the pavement indicating work was to begin on the area surrounding the double mini-roundabouts.  This will lead to long tailbacks, especially as work begins when all the industrial estates return.  

Spring like indeed but walking there and back was wothout a spring.  Knackered at home, quick and easy lunch, fortified by this cheap plonk.  Can French wine be called 'plonk?'  Isn't it supposed to be the best?  Not to me it isn't, and too be fair anything would have done this lunchtime.

So, at home I wasted time on mediocre football, and searching for news.  None was found.  With everyone on holiday or hiding from the press the media only features yesterday's stories refurbished, and celebs spouting.  Nothing worth knowing.  

Tomorrow is another day of fun, frolics, laughter, and laundry.

Ain't life great...? 

 

Sunday Daffs

A combination of things saw me remain indoors today.  However, just after 10, when the shop opened, I wandered across the park to buy bread.  The sun shone, the sky was blue, an aircraft flew 32,000 feet above us making his way toward the Americas, and all appeared well with the world.  

Of course, if we only look at what is in front of our nose we can ignore the earthquakes in Turkey and Syria, the war in Syria or Ukraine, and conflicts in various parts of Africa.  We can also ignore the suffering closer to home as we either do not see or know about it, or it is kept secret from us, not everyone wishes to share their problems with the world.  

So I wandered across the path enjoying being outside in such weather, and also enjoying the sight of greenery in the sunshine.  Just walking through a small area of parkland can enliven the spirit, especially if much time has been spent indoors.  The green has an affect on our spirits, some like to call this 'spiritual,' it is not, but it does hearten the mind.  Others, with or without dogs, were also being heartened though this did not always show.  Quite quiet being early, the shop opened, a few were in desparately filling the trolley, I grabbed my few bits and hobbled gladly back home.   

 

So, having checked that the Daffodills outside the Council offices are well ahead of the other council ones, watched two miserable football matches, and listened to three tracks from AC/DC to bring some excitement into my day, I now end it with tired timewasting on the internet.  

More excitement tomorrow awaits...

 

Thunder and Lightning

Met Office

Dark skies, flashes of lightning, rumbles of thunder.  The sound of heavy rain lashing the Highways and byways around.  A continuous dripping hurries along at the back window, the gutters overflowing with the deluge.  The swishing sound as the rain lashes the street.  Cars, not always driving carefully, pass by splashing the water around.  The gutters cannot cope and rain sills across the road every so often lit up by the flashes, flashes which at least avoid the need to put a light on.  

The thunder moves further away, the rain eases, and all this reminds me of the day I was born.  Thunder, lightning, heaving rain storms, windows shaking and all this on an Edinburgh July.  The family interpreted this as a bad sign.  There are those who agree with them.

As the storm moves north east I hear a dog barking, a dog, that would hide under the bed trembling when fireworks explode is happy to want outside when thunder and lightning rage!

Similar rain, without much thunder, kept me in this morning.  The idea of walking in the drizzle did not appeal, especially as I knew what would follow.  Follow it did, heavy persistent rain, annoying those walking dogs that insisted in walking, and made me glad I remained indoors listening to the constant heavy dripping at the back window.  One day someone will fix those gutters.

This is not quite what Australia has been facing, it is not like the Indian monsoon, it is however, very like Autumn weather here.  Rain clouds coming up from the south west, carrying much of the Atlantic with them, brings a warmer atmosphere and a wetter rain.  Much better than the north west cold rain, often the remains of US hurricanes, of glorious memory.  That is, glorious because I do not see it as often as I once did.

A Sunday in the Life

BiblePlaces

 

Sunday saw me shuffling down to the Kirk.  

I have not been for a few weeks and it was delight to see how the young women crowded around me.  I did not realise just how much they missed my weekly cash offering!  My tired mind did not enjoy much however, the service was a long one, too long for tired little me.  

Not only was it the church's 53rd anniversary, but it was also the 'Harvest Festival.'  This adds to the time as offerings were made, offerings this time being items wanted by the local 'Food Bank,' which the church supports and is itself used as an 'Food Bank' opening.  So, plastic bags of required substances abounded at the front, unlike in days of long ago when a sheaf of wheat or two would lie alongside local apples, fruits and vegetables.  Today, a more practical, and sadly required, offering is demanded.  We have a Conservative MP, who is also the Foreign Minister (at the moment, but things change quickly under this government), the town council is almost totally Conservative, and the County council also dominated by the Conservative Party.  However, the 'Food Bank' in this town has two openings within the town, and one on the rather 'better to do' area just outside.  There is also another in nearby, and better off, Halstead, and one in not so well of London overspill Witham!  Conservative areas these, and the MP has not, as yet, visited any of them.  All of these are based in church halls, I wonder why?  Does no-one else have the care, or would it cost too much?  Maybe the next 'Harvest Festival' might be different, maybe of course, it could be much worse.  

On top of this we had a child baptised.  Now I am not one for Christenings or child baptisms, however, the CoE is, and the vicar goes along with this so, when a local woman requests baptism he accedes to her demand, and attempts to use this as an 'outreach' to those who attend church only for 'Birth, death and marriages.'  And as I entered, shrugging off the women, I noticed the first three rows taken up with men in suits, and women dressed for an occasion. "Strangers," thought I.  Easy to identify such as the rest of the church takes a 'Come as you are,' approach, and rightly so, this means visitors all dressed up stand out.  Funny how they all think going to church requires 'dressing up,' I wonder how those thoughts get into their minds?  It does however, show the lack of understanding regarding churches today.

I say Christenings and child baptism have no place in scripture.  Such are never found there, what we do find however, is, for instance, in Mark's 'Good News,' where the disciples are clearing up after Jesus has finished for the day, and the women then approach for Jesus to 'bless' their children.  Obviously, no major Rabbi of the time wishes to waste time on the women or their children, so the disciples lovingly tell them to "Clear off."  At this Jesus, says Mark, is 'Indignant.'  The Greek word he uses is a very strong word indeed, indicating how God in human form, walking the earth, saw the women and children.  

However, baptism, such as from John at the Jordan, and occasionally elsewhere, does not mention children, only 'people.'  It is possible they were involved, but no mention of them is made.  The 'Christening service' is unknown.  

Non-denominational churches, based on scripture rather than 'liturgy,' do not have 'Christenings,' but what I might call 'presentations.'  That is, new born children are 'presented to God,' and the church, along with thanks to God, promises to care for them.  Can I just say at this point, I am no longer available for babysitting.  

They are welcomed into the church but no demand on the child is made re belief. 

The reason child baptism is accepted is based on Pauls time in Philippi. 

When Paul was in Philippi spreading the Good News, he was confronted by a woman with an evil spirit.  She was a slave girl, common in those far off days, and not uncommon even in this country today, who earned much for her owners by fortune telling.  Demons have much knowledge and are not to be laughed at.  This woman followed Paul telling people that "These men are servants of the Most High God, and are telling you the way to be saved."  After a few days of this Paul turned round and in Jesus name commanded the spirit to leave her.  This was seen by the owners as unfortunate as they lost money, so a 'hubbub' arose and a crowd soon saw Paul and Silas stripped and flogged, then dumped in prison as serious offenders.  My reaction would have been one filled with rude words, Paul and Silas are found at midnight praying and singing hymns to God, with the other prisoners listening to them.  Clearly they had an effect on the others.  

An earthquake follows, not unusual in the region, and the prison walls shake, doors open, fetters loosened.  Not surprisingly the prison jailor fears for his life as everyone must have escaped.  However, Paul stops him and indicates all remain inside, revealing Pauls hold on them.  The Jailor then asks, "What can I do to be saved?"  The answer, "Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household."  Paul then spoke the 'word of the Lord' to the household, the jailor washed their wounds, and soon he and his family were baptised. 

It is this incident that allows some to accept child baptism.  The jailor 'and all his family,' to some, indicates children were baptised.  But I wonder?  

This was Philippi, a Roman town, a place emptied by Augustus in 42 BC and used as a pension for retired Roman soldiers.  Each man was given something, a wine bar, a fast food joint, whatever suited them, and that was their pension.  By Pauls time their sons and grandsons, plus other ex-service men had filled the town, thus the jailor may well have been a member of the Roman army at some point.  I see him as a man, at least in his 40s, if not older, with grown up children, at least of teenage years.  His position as prison governor would not have been given lightly, so he may well have been at least a Centurion, with experience of leadership.  Therefore those who reckon children were involved in his household being baptised are merely surmising that to be the case.  My surmise may also be wrong but I will not mention this.    

Anyway, the kid here was baptised, then, learned how to toddle freely, spent much time toddling around the church drowning out the vicar, to everyone, bar the vicars, amusement.  These days kids get more freedom than in days gone by, but eventually someone grabbed him and others and dumped the in a play room.  Being a special service the normal kids events did not occur, and this may have been a mistake.  The kid was enjoyable, and all loved him.

 

I did not wish to stay and talk, I was very tired, but enough people spoke and listened to my idea of 'TikTok' fame.  The results were disappointing.  " What, You?" was a common expression, "Fame?" followed by sarcastic laughter, another.  Some wondered if a live picture of myself early in the day might breach the 'Law of England & Wales.'  One suggested wearing a Burqa, just in case.  The treasurer wished me well in obtaining cash and gave me the church bank numbers but with a strong hint of sarcasm as he did so, his son, a 'TikTok' follower just banged his head on the desk muttering something unclear.   I failed to understand their thinking.  Other indications of a lack of support drove me from the field and home to rest my ego and remain in poverty.     

With no little relief I have finished my Turmeric soup.  I am now planning another, somewhat lighter, and this time I may even attempt to add flavour, maybe...  

Sunny Sunday

Because of the heat we need to be beside the seaside.  

Of course I am not!

Instead today I had to hobble to Kirk in the great heat once again, about 76% at the time.  This was acceptable I suppose, a normal summer in the UK today.  

Church was enjoyable today.  Marina massaged my neck for a minute, Matt told me the tale of his wife, and I felt welcomed and part of the place, which is always nice.  A service which was unusual, intended mainly for kids, almost none of whom were to be seen.  The weather has taken many out, the summer holidays has a few still trying to cross over into France at Dover, and others will be sunning themselves in downmarket Espana.  This did not matter, we all enjoy the kids things more than they do anyway.  The leader today was not used to the job, he prefers to stay at the back like me, he took us through the 'Lords Prayer,' bit by bit and once again I was struck by the need to forgive all those many enemies of mine, avoid temptation (sorry Morag you must leave), and recollect how he offered me strength to obey and follow him many years ago.  

Why have I failed so badly to do this?  Tsk!

Revived sufficiently by a mug of tea and an argument with Gordon, who was meant to be washing the mugs, I once again trekked along the road in the increasing heat.  I forgave, eventually, a driver leaving the petrol station who refused to see me and almost got me.  I avoided the temptation of reaching for the sub-machine gun US style, and made it home for a bacon roll.  

Lunch time on a Sunday is often glorious like this.

There was also a mediocre football match on display, which I was forced to watch while I pondered furiously what to scribble tonight.  Nothing came.

  

I spent some few minutes posting once more on the new blog, concerning my late brothers time in RAF Sharjah during 1970/71.  These featured a holiday jaunt into the desert of Muscat to recognise the world they were defending.  Here RAF mechanics managed to get one of the Land Rovers waterlogged!  Britain need not fear!

Interestingly, or not as the case may be, after all that sunshine I see from my position, seated in my bed staring out the window while tapping on the spare (Win11) laptop that the rain clouds are gathering.  Does this mean summer is over for another year? 

Maybe I need a different kind of hat this week....?    

Sunny Sunday

I remained indoors this morning, sleep was fitful during the night and I did not fancy the walk.  The possible lift did not call so I remained eating and fiddling about instead of Kirk.  Naturally, with the sun at the zenith, around 12:30, I walked out across the park, round the gardens, and back down past the town centre.  Not that far, about 45 mins or so, but in the bright sunshine.   

My thermometer reads just under 80F, and tomorrow it may get worse.  Maybe I ought to have bought that overlarge hat yesterday anyway?  Nothing much appears to be happening.  Things are quiet as people sit in the sun, or hide from it, Twitter is full of Tory lies and bull, nothing in the press about Boris having a wedding party at Chequers on the taxpayer, thus indicating all the press men were there.  He has not gone, and he cannot be trusted!  He is up to something.

So, a feeble football match to fill the afternoon.  I would have been better asleep, catching up on what I missed last night.  Waking up every hour yet unable to return to sleep!  

Nothing new is on the horizon today.  The sun is keeping folks busy.  Boris's party has given them hangovers.  Tomorrow it all starts again...