Last week I have been...

"The Lady in the Van film poster" by Source. Licensed under Fair use via Wikipedia 

Reading stories from Paris and wondering about the courage of people and how they carry on afterwards. I am not writing too much about Paris here. I am not sure I have the skills to do it justice. 

Taken delivery of FOW2 for a weekend. She was came home to go to a concert. You do a sort of almost imperceptible gulp at the moment when your loved ones go to a public event but we need to carry on I think. Anyway she was convinced that bombing type people would have no idea who the band "The 1975" are so she felt quite safe. In exchange for a lift to the gig she accompanied me next day as I took Aged Parent to The Range. This was a bit of a rollercoaster. After having a heated argument with HOH about whether "Lametta" is a real word, I was very pleased to find a packet there and send him a photo, however was unable to talk Aged Parent out of her instant affinity for an exploding glitter Santa.

I was slightly put out to hear that security at Plymouth's dockyard is being stepped up in the wake of the attacks. There are nuclear submarines there. I was hoping security was already quite "stepped up" there as a general principle to be frank with you.

Out to watch The Lady In The Van. They are pushing on an open door a bit with me. I love Alan Bennett. His observation about day to day is outstanding. Maybe you have to be from the North of England to really get it but I am certain I have met around fifty percent of the people he talks about. 

I have already seen The Lady In The Van on stage. It was very good but I liked this more. It tells the "mostly true" story of an old lady who lived in a van which Bennett allowed her to park on his drive for fifteen years. She was cantankerous and had "interesting" toileting habits but Bennett said "She never impinged."  Maggie Smith is as perfect as you would expect obviously. However, I thought Alex Jennings was at least as impressive as Bennett. I read that Jennings wasn't too bothered about it being seen as Maggie Smith's film but was a bit taken aback to see it billed as starring Maggie Smith and James Corden (Corden is in it for about fifteen seconds) It's well written as you would expect and sometimes really funny. It's not a barrel of laughs though - you won't be holding your sides when  you come out because it is also really quite sad. People behave the way they do for lots of reasons and life is sometimes quite harsh to those who don't quite fit the mould. There's a lot of kindness here though and, at the moment, I can't think of a better reason to recommend a film to you.

In Praise of Lists

I am the type of person who scours the Internet to see what it is that I am doing wrong. Having spent some time perusing Twitter (to find some nice photos of Jeremy Vine and Karen Clifton in Strictly. I have left Strictly now they have gone. Too many semi danced trained, low level showbiz types for me - sorry.) I have come across a few things talking about the tyranny of lists and getting rid of this oppressive scourge. Well not me matey. I have a list. I have an ongoing list. My list is going nowhere. I will admit that the whole planner thing has gone a bit too far. I have never really felt the need to buy stickers with little glasses of water on them to tell me to drink six pints a day or whatever. I also freely admit that I find it a teeny bit sad that people spend fifteen quid on a stamp that says "To Do" rather than just scrawl it. (Actually, I don't even need to that. If it's written down - it needs to be done. That is all)

Firstly, I notice that a lot of these people who rattle on about leaving yourself free to run through God's Open Fields of Thoughtfulness or whatever are not burdened by my working patterns. I am full time - nine to five. I can't break off for a couple of hours to sit on a hill. It won't go down well with the Powers That Be. I cannot count on their understanding. This does not just apply to people who work. Lots of people are so committed to lots of things, they just can't "go with the flow". 

Also I am old and I forget things and if things that I need to do are not staring balefully out at me when I open my diary, there is every chance that they won't get done. I am the King, Queen and Princess Royal of mentally sidelining things that I don't fancy. Writing it down will make it unavoidable; a Thing That Must Be Done. Consequently, when the task is complete, I have found that there are few things more satisfying than running a highlighter pen through one of these conscience prodders.

I find, it makes time for me. It really does. I use a list to both write down what I need to do but also to limit my expectations. I may need to do eight hundred and forty things but if I write down the three most urgent for the next five evenings, I will usually do those things and then skip off and do what I want to do. This means things get done and I feel good. Otherwise there is every chance that you will find me curled up in a ball under the bed crying because I am overwhelmed by how much needs to be done and I have spent the whole evening watching re-runs of Only Connect - even though I have already seen every episode- just to take my mind off them.

As I age, I am more aware of how quickly time passes. The prospect of having a life that, one day, allows me to lie on my belly in the sun and daily contemplate God's goodness is very attractive but today, I have so many things I have to do, that I need to remember them. 

Right Time. Right Place.

Hello. Sort of feel the urge to tell you a story, that I know I have told before. Can't remember if it was here or not. Feel free to skip it if you know it. I would. It's quite long, hope it isn't too long.
When I was at school, I was rubbish at sport. Really rubbish. In fact if being rubbish at sport ever became an Olympic Sport, I would be a multi gold medal winner. (I understand how unlikely this scenario is) 
Believe it or not I actually spent some time as part of a class hockey team. Not because I had suddenly become a hero with a hockey stick but because:
a) My friends were all in the team and they wanted me with them - however burdensome I was.
b) No one else wanted to do it.

For a while it wasn't too difficult. I was a defender in a really good team so the goalkeeper and I spent more time playing air guitar with our sticks than actually staving off attacks. Eventually though, and despite my best efforts, we were promoted. Then it all went wrong. I kept finding myself up against much better players, players that my friends could not protect me from. Week after week I watched wingers maraud past me, and put in amazing crosses. It was really hard work. I could have taken out shares in witch hazel, I spent so long bathing bruises. But I carried on. I turned up every week and although I was praying to be dropped, I decided that I wasn't going to walk away. I trained hard - to no avail and my worst fears were confirmed when we played the league leaders. When I saw their winger I immediately demanded a sex test. She passed me again and again, legs pumping like pistons. I was having a torrid time. Then, out of the blue as she ran towards me again, I breathed hard, remembered the training for once, stepped into the tackle properly and smashed the ball back upfield. It was a brilliant tackle and it seemed to break my opponent's spirit. Either that, or she was too shocked to continue. 
The spectators were as surprised as anyone else. As we trooped off the pitch at the end - I could hear people openly saying - How did SHE manage that? My gym teacher, who I thought could barely remember my name, replied to those around her. "She deserved that. She kept going. Made sure that when the opportunity came she was ready for it. Right place right time."

I wish I could say that this was the start of a great hockey career but I was soon out of the team and they were better for it. (Much better) but I still think about it sometimes. When I am tempted to give up and walk away, I think - what if I miss it? What if the good thing happens and I have legged it out of there? 
Maybe that is what this means

Galatians 6:9-10The Message (MSG)

9-10 So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit. Right now, therefore, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith.

Though a Strange Lens

"Partridge Family first cast 1970" by ABC Television - eBay itemphoto frontphoto back. Licensed under Public Domain via Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Partridge_Family_first_cast_1970.JPG#/media/File:Partridge_Family_first_cast_1970.JPG

I'm sat in the Sunday Morning Meeting, as you do. I'm alone as HOH is tending to the needs of the sick at the hospital and I'm looking round a bit. My eyes see a few people sat to my right. Our church is cavernous, so they are not exactly sat on top of me. They are people I know of rather than know - if you get me. They are medical people, really nice. They do stuff for God in far off places in their spare time. They are going through some testing health problems which they are bearing with good faith and application. I spoke to him once and was amazed to find that he had not been a Christian for very long. He attended an Alpha course and it had gone from there. Amazing. Then, as I do, I compare these people to me. I see all they will achieve for God and I wonder if I have left it too late. They are nice. I am not nice. They have maturity and gravitas. Er... This can lead to me wondering if I am really much of a Christian at all and if God could really have done much better for himself. Then, out of nowhere, I came over all David Cassidy.

I don't know if you remember David Cassidy. When I was young, it was one of three. The cool girls loved David Cassidy. The really cool girls loved Michael Jackson. The rest of girlhood loved Donny Osmond. I was team Donny. I know. I don't care.
David Cassidy was beautiful though. You had to admit that. So I used to watch him in The Partridge Family. I loved the Partridge Family. I had no idea what was going on really but anyway. I think they were a pop band made up from a family. They would go "on the road", have wacky adventures and then sing a jolly pop song at the end. Think S Club Seven with Shirley Jones as their Mum. That kind of thing. Then, because David Cassidy was beautiful, he started doing stuff on his own. And there was a song, Not much of a song but it had a lyric. 

In the eyes of the world I'm a loser just wastin' my time
I can't make a dime
In the eyes of the world being born was my first big mistake

I can't get a break
But in the eyes of my woman I stand
Like a hero, a giant, a man who's as tall as can be
Any fool can see

That she's lookin' through the eyes of love
Lookin' through the eyes of love
Lookin' through the eyes of love when she looks at me-ee.

And I thought. That's what God does - with me. He sees me differently than I see myself. Reminded me a bit of this in Galatians. 

What actually took place is this: I tried keeping rules and working my head off to please God, and it didn’t work. So I quit being a “law man” so that I could be God’s man. Christ’s life showed me how, and enabled me to do it. I identified myself completely with him. Indeed, I have been crucified with Christ. My ego is no longer central. It is no longer important that I appear righteous before you or have your good opinion, and I am no longer driven to impress God. Christ lives in me. The life you see me living is not “mine,” but it is lived by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I am not going to go back on that.

And I felt ok. There are complicated transactions going on here. Much more complicated than me and how I feel about myself sometimes. But it is taken care of. It is sorted. Christians should feel comforted and secure. Because we are.

New Week

"Spectre poster" by Source. Licensed under Fair use via Wikipedia - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Spectre_poster.jpg#/media/File:Spectre_poster.jpg

Monday  has zoomed round again, as it does and I have looked back on a less than momentous week - the highlights of which I am happy to share. So last week, I was mostly...

• Taking Aged Parent to Aldi and watching the crowds of students miraculously part as she informed the room that Syrup Of Figs was doing wonders for her constipation. She has no boundaries but at least we can get to the fish freezer easily.
• Going to watch The Bond. I wish I liked Spectre more. I would love to like The Bond, packed as it is with great people - Rory, Ben, Ralph and, of course Dave Batista. And it's British and cool. But it was so long. Hours long, and I get a bit bored of car crashes and punching people and torture. Where are the jokes? It used to be full of quips. Not very funny quips, I'll give you that but a least they were having a go. The beginning is really good, a great set piece but then, well not so good for me. The villain was annoying me - why wasn't he wearing any socks under his trousers? There is a moral choice at the end that JB would NEVER make which was a puzzle. And Monica Belluci needs to phone her agent. All she gets to do is look Italian (Which she does fabulously well) get pushed against a mirror by JB, do a bit of jig-a-jig, then never be seen again. Lots of people loved it. HOH liked it. He told me - "It's not really for you is it?"
• Turned on the Festival of Remembrance to hear them singing Praise My Soul rather beautifully, only to have the whole thing ruined by Pixie Lott giggling though it like I used to do at school. (In my defence - I was eleven) This, I think, is was happens when you try to put showbiz into intelligent, thoughtful things. I'm not sure what her contribution was because I switched on late. I'm willing to bet she had spent some time earlier murdering "We'll Meet Again" - making it sound like a threat rather than a promise.
• Been over to Amazon to pre-order the new Pen Wilcock, Hawk and The Dove book. (Highly recommended by the way) It's not due out till February but, I like to be in the queue. It's a British thing I think. 
• Felt a bit sick - along with HOH, for a couple of days. We are a bit concerned that our duvet is trying to kill us. It's really efficient. Too efficient and we both keep waking up boiling hot with bad heads. I could do with the weather going a bit colder to be honest or we may not survive the Autumn. 
• Managed to leave my phone at work Friday night and decided that, rather than go back for it, I would have a phone free weekend. Have been approached by four people (one a bit worried that I had been kidnapped or sold into slavery apparently) moaning that they couldn't get in touch with me. Will need to rejoin human race today unfortunately and return to phone.

Other than that, I worried a bit, prayed a bit, got on with it, as you do. Bring on the next week. 

Halloween

Autumn is in full swing. Halloween has come and gone and I can't say I'm sorry. We actually had kids knock on the door this year but we don't answer it. We can't. The dog isn't keen on strangers calling in the dark and making woo-woo noises. They would get more of a spooking than they were bargaining for and no one wants to spend Halloween in Casualty. I'm not keen on Halloween for lots of reasons. 

• The spiritual aspect. My background means that I am not kindly disposed to jokey stuff about witches and demons etc. It was never a positive when I was a little girl. Also everyone' s background should surely mean that they are not too keen on dressing their five year old as a sexy witch or giving their three year old a Scream mask. That could just be me. Modern parenting may have moved on. I do not claim to be an expert.
• Halloween Parties. Too fraught for me and too many plastic spiders knocking around. Also as a non swimmer, Bobbing for Apples always seemed to be the kind of thing you would do when you were trying to extract information about the whereabouts of secret plans. Not a child's party game.
• Never been a fan of entertainment based on frightening the living daylights out of me. Can still remember a visit to Mother Shipton's Cave as a child. Some lunatic had thought it might be "educational" to put a statue of Mother Shipton (Wise woman/Witch - depending on your theology) in the back of the cave where she was born. After catching sight of it, it took three park attendants to scrape me off the ceiling.
• My mother told me that Door Knocking was legalised begging. (See also Penny For the Guy and singing the line Away In a Manger three times and calling it Carol Singing) Or demanding money with menaces these days. My neighbour actually had her windows egged this year! This was unwise as her husband is an ex marine and they have three quite large sons knocking about the place.
• It's very American. That's what people say a lot about Halloween. I like America though. I like the teeth and the can-do attitude and Tina Fey. It's a grand place. (The Gun thing is a bit weird I know) Halloween is a bit of a money spinning exercise though, as anyone who has been in the first aisle of Sainsbury's at this time of year will tell you. (Where are the carrots?) 

The Indep.

We like our Autumn entertainment a bit more homely in the UK. We like celebrating the possible destruction of our democracy by burning effigies in the streets and by remembering torturing people until they could no longer write. See Guy Fawkes' signatures before and after The Rack. We are  a bit more civilised here. 

China In Your Hand

This is my final little treat to myself before Christmas saving etc. (That's if you don't count visit to the hospice shop to stock up on books and some other books I need and some mascara that it is good to get because I have a voucher and some theatre tickets oh and I will have to get a new cardi for work. Think that's it. Possibly not.) So this lovely phone case came from China which I feel a bit guilty about because of the cheap steel imports and the human rights but it is really difficult to get a Lilo and Stitch phone cover. I have read that sentence back and am thoroughly ashamed of myself. Lilo and Stitch, by the way is the best Disney cartoon EVER. (This is not a debate - this is a statement of fact) Possibly rivalled only by Mulan. Do not bother me with Frozen - full as it is of  tiny waisted insipid girlies running up and down piles of ice and bellowing songs at me. Mulan is a lady soldier who SAVES CHINA! (This blog is very oriental, I have noticed). And Lilo and Stitch has the best quote ever in it:

Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten

You can also get this on a phone case but I keep crying every time I read it which is not very helpful when you are trying to answer your phone. 

I am a bit puzzled by the inclusion in the  phone cover package of a little blue jewel thing to stick up my phone's bottom. I cannot for the life of me think why anyone would want to do that. But I am old.

We moseyed on down to the cinema to see The Martian. It's very good. Probably about 20 minutes too long. There was a bit in the middle about China (good grief, there it is again) that I couldn't really see the point of but it was good. Everyone in it plays the person they normally play. Matt Damon is a decent everyman sort. Sean Bean is a gruff, Yorkshire, Lady Chatterley's Person sort. Jeff Daniels is the man he plays in the Newsroom - tough but fair. Jessica Chastain is edgy but somehow appealing. Still, they all do it very well and it was a bit jumpy at the end. Cinema does space very impressively these days and it freaks me out to see people behaving normally in a spaceship when out of the window you can see that they are a gazillion miles away from anywhere. Although, is it true that you can see the Great Wall of China from space?

Social Media - The Revenge

One good thing about kids leaving is that you get to raid their bedrooms for, well anything you fancy really. FOW 1's room is not much good tbh because I am not that into Wolverine or the Red Hot Chilli Peppers but FOW2's bedroom - that is an Aladdin's Cave of stuff. It's mostly books although there is some nice nail varnish and a couple of more than acceptable scarves. I also have a winter coat to try on as the suede one I had my eye on from Tesco is sold out unless you fancy a size 8. (I may fancy it but I will never see it again.)
Anyway - back to the books. This is a salutary tale, mainly about social media and the trolling that goes on there. It's not so much about the famous ones - you know - where people can threatened with rape because they do something terrible like wanting a picture of a Suffragette on a five pound note. It's about people who made actual mistakes - remember the girl who was disrespectful in Arlington Cemetery? She had death threats, and lost her job - couldn't leave the house. Ronson compares this to the days of the stocks when people were dragged into the town square to be publicly humiliated for whatever they had done. 
Twitter is a scary place but I have comforted myself with the knowledge that as a nobody, I am unlikely to attract any attention. It seems that this is not true. One ill-advised Tweet or one stupid photo can bring the might of the entire Internet down on your head. They can make the sort of threats that, were they made directly to you in the street, you could ring the police and they would send two burly police constables round immediately. (If there were any constables left)
This makes me sound like I am 104 but sometimes, when I hear about people planning to behead people in the street or public shaming becoming a thing again or people using children as their own personal slaves, I do wonder how far we are progressing. I mean, I rarely throw the toilet waste out of upstairs windows I know and rickets is all but eliminated in Plymouth but it seems there are sometimes when we have barely moved on at all.

Autumn Thoughts - Not from Abroad

The leaves they are a colouring, the wind, it is a gusting, the spiders they are a hanging off my windows. It must be Autumn.

Autumn is ok really. It gets a bad press because people are annoyed because Boots has got its Christmas presents out. People are wandering around muttering "It's only September" and are refusing to join in the general merriment at the Garden Centre where Christmas Joy is already full blown - if the light-up, back-flipping Santa Garden Sprite is anything to judge by. 

So Autumn is the bit between Summer when we were all quite wet for a lot of it and Winter when we are all quite wet again but need the heat on as well. It is the time when the telly bucks up a bit because we didn't need good telly in the summer when we were all rowing down rivers and drinking Pimms in the evenings. Now, the nights are closing in and we need the X Factor to bring us hope for the future. (I have never seen the X Factor - I shouldn't judge) It is therefore a time of transition and change and moving on and lots of other transitional words. 

We are transitioning a bit here at Martha Towers. We are officially "Empty Nesters" now - at least until Christmas. You are supposed to fall into one of two camps as an "Empty Nester". Either you phone your child three times a day and beg them to come home or you paint their bedroom in a neutral kind of colour and rent it out to a student called Juan. I don't think we are either. I am really pleased that they are moving on. I wouldn't want it any other way. It is their time. I enjoy lots of the new things. Small ironing piles, being able to put bacon in pasta dishes, not hearing size twelve shoes trying to creep in at 4am. HOH and I have enjoyed just thinking about us. It has been lovely. 

Yet there are friends missing from the house. There are gaps. We miss them. And, cliched as it sounds, I am wondering what I am actually for? If you get my meaning. (Please don't send anyone round. I am not balancing on a ledge or anything) But I know, I have to find the next stage. Nothing dramatic. No juggling, back packing, entering Bake Off. Just the next piece of thing. 

“When the time’s ripe, I answer you.
    When victory’s due, I help you.
Isaiah 49

It's A Timing Thing

We have been away. Not physically but mentally, spiritually. Our two have flown the nest as they say, and it has been lots of things - exciting, sad, shattering, worrying, satisfying.

I am not a depressive type of person, but I have felt a little low. Partly because, the FOWS had worries of their own. For FOW2 there are all the obvious worries of starting Uni for the first time. For FOW1 - the return to York - this time as a post grad, needing a job and starting again in a way. 

People say it's like a bereavement but it isn't - not for me anyway. I have been bereaved and it's not like that. There is too much conviction here that this is such a fantastic opportunity for both of them, I am proud. (Did we decide if this kind of pride is a sin? I can't remember) 

HOH and I have also been physically pooped. All the packing, tidying, last minute running to Wilkinson's (Did I say how expensive this whole business was?) HOH has driven to York and back over the course of two days. So we just stopped. A bit. We had to go to work obviously (They seemed to insist for some reason) Sunday, we didn't go to church, just padded around. And it has been more or less like that all week. More prayer too. We are not able to help them with the things they are dealing with ourselves so we have prayed. We have found the consolation of giving these huge worries and concerns to God a great - well consolation. And prayers have been answered. 

I pinched this off Kindred of the Quiet Way because it fits how we feel. 

"Flee for a while from your tasks, hide yourself for a little space from the turmoil of your thoughts. Come, cast aside your burdensome cares, and put aside your laborious pursuits. For a little while give your time to God, and rest in him for a little while. Enter into the inner chamber of your mind, shut out all things save God and whatever may aid you in seeking God; and having barred the door of your chamber, seek him."

                                 ~ Anselm of Canterbury

Busy

We are all over the place at the moment. Two people going to University in the next three days. Fortunately HOH has had some time off work so the main burden of overseeing and generally chivvying everyone up has fallen on him - he is playing to his strengths here.

I am a bit jumpy about them both going - not because I don't want them to go. They are ready and this is the right thing. FOW1 is going back to do his Masters and FOW2 is returning to education after a year out and she has really missed it. I just wonder how I will be. Also - sometimes I think I will be fine with it and then I feel a bit guilty.

I was talking to someone after church on Sunday though and she was brilliant. She told me - quite firmly - and I paraphrase a bit. "I was fine when they left home. I thought it was fantastic. Lovely and quiet and ordered. No more piles of washing or buying food for England. Coming and going as you please. People talk about it being a bereavement and it's not a bereavement. It's not as if someone has died or gone away to war. They have gone somewhere that they really want to go. They are blessed to do so and I thank God for it. (And they are back more often than I would like as well)"

I think this is right. I will miss them - I am not sure I will ever get used to watching Only Connect on my own but I am grateful to be here to see them spreading their wings and this is good for them. Once again I discover that it's not all about me.