And they have turned on me,

Lined up and regimented

Marching onwards, bayonets ready

Drilled for the attack -

I am not their Colonel

The last month or so has raced by in a tinsel covered blur, so I thought I’d give a brief resume of the main parts;

1. Christmas was lovely, with lots of great presents. Senara had a fab time opening everything, for the first time she seemed to be really aware of what all the presents meant and excited by everything!
2. Senara had a great birthday, although it seemed to race by in a haze.
3. I have spent a bit of time obsessed by getting the best sale bargains. In fact I am thinking of starting a support group for myself and other addicted Bootsers (that is devotees of Boots the Chemist). Once I’ve used up all my vouchers… and got all the extra points … must go cold turkey… aargh.
4. Cornwall was great; we visited quite a few places and saw quite a lot of people. Senara was her usual fearless self, putting my heart through its paces – the photos on flickr give you an idea of what I mean!
5. Char went back to university. Again. Can’t believe she’s half way through her second year, next year she’ll have to start job hunting, and being a proper grown up- how scary is that?
6. Meg has had lots of interest from universities. She has had offers from Gloucester (conditional) and Lancaster (unconditional – lucky thing) and awaits one from Lincoln which is where she hopes to go.
7. Sam is back at school and will hopefully get a food hygiene certificate next week. He has been pointing out where my food hygiene is wanting…
8. I’ve been trying to write a bit more again, and just get back into the habit of it. I managed to do this quite a bit last week, but need a bit of a kick in the rear this week – ho hum I suppose (I blame the Boots 75% sale personally…). Wish me luck!
9. Winston has just been himself, which is a good thing. He’s just been moved to a different site where they need a bit of organising- obviously he’s the man for the job!

All the best for 2007 – I can’t believe how quickly the years are starting to pass. I’m petrified of waking up one morning and finding out I’m wrinkled and my body is knackered, and 20 years have passed without me noting it!

“I was walking away from him until I turned around and hit him”

(Strangely he lost the case)

In terms of the veil, as I understand it Muslim women can choose to wear a veil in order to stop themselves from being a temptation to men. Their choice to do so is just that – their choice. But in doing in so it seems to me that they are demeaning the abilities of men to resist temptation and thus themselves belittling men through their attire. To take this a step further, wearers of a veil are also making a statement about the responsibilities of women in sexual relationships. There they are the tempters and must accept the results of this role, however brutal that may be. I do not think I am saying anything new here, nor do I think that in saying this I am representing the views of most Muslims. I am not intending to wear a veil myself for the reasons outlined above, but that fully appreciate the choice of those who do and do not see them as lesser beings for doing so.

The choice of a veil- wearer is also interesting, as it introduces issues of communication. Clearly a veil is no reason for a person to be unable to talk. A veil wearer can lucidly and animatedly explore a topic in speech just as anyone else can. Interesting as this may be to listen to, it remains little different to listening to debate on the radio. All the nuances of facial expression are gone – there are no smiles, no frowns – making the televisual communication less layered. Obviously this will not make the speech worthless. Undoubtedly the speech by Sharon Osborne will remain less weighty than the one this year. However that does not mean it will be less interesting to watch.

Finally, and most overlooked is the juxtaposing of two faiths here – a Muslim amid the festivities of Christmas.  Some see this as a belittling of Christianity, and further evidence of an anti-Christian feeling amongst the establishment within the media. Would a Christian be given a prime-time slot to on the day of a Hindu, Muslim or Sikh festival they ask. I have no idea what the answer to this question is, and no desire to play a victim. What does concern me though is that it is starting to be considered offensive for members of a religious community to celebrate their faith, and that apologies seem to be made for faith groups doing so.

In order to be a truly multi-cultural society we need to accept that people are different,  allowing people to live differently without taking offence when they choose to do so. Whether we are part of the majority or the minority – and life is not black and white enough for us to ever always be part of the majority – we have a responsibilty to be broad minded. As a Christian I may not believe that everyone else is living the way that God wants them to, but it is for Him to judge not me. There but for the grace of God …

As a post script and perhaps a further belittling of faith. According to the last census there are now more jedis in the UK than either Sikhs or Buddhists. I’m not sure how they practise their faith.

‘ An insight into the lives of three Japanese couples, where the women are affected by a debilitating form of stress commonly known as “retired husband syndrome” ‘

I have some sympathy…

Winston came up with ‘It’s Now or Never’, which makes him a risk taker, willing to act on impulse (hmmm). Mine Was ‘Stand By Your Man’ which means I am a loyal and faithful partner, putting my relationship before everything else, and Senara’s is ‘Mad World’ which, umm, just reflects what she has brought to the world…

Let me know what yours says about you!

my packing mess,
originally uploaded by SpacegirlSpiff713. thanks and apologies to spacegirlspiff713 for borrowing her photo.

Yesterday a tornado hit.

It was small and devastating.

The airing cupboard is now a wasteland where clothes once lived.

The wardrobe too has been massacred, drawers pulled out and spilt remains of fabric are all that are left.

The tornado took no prisoners.

It raced through the house picking up anything of fabric then discarding it onto all the surfaces

The washing machine became a jumble of colours as the storm ripped through it

Bedrooms are now discarded mountains waiting to be rehoused

The only things to escape the devastation so far

Are the suitcases.

God have mercy on our souls.

Just to put it into context, my Dad’s family are from Mousehole, the village that the Solomon Browne was launched from. Mousehole is a small village just outside Penzance and Newlyn and I know it well – my Great Uncle and Aunt live there and my Dad has always counted it amongst his favourite places. Most of the locals know each other, to the extent that when I have used my maiden name there people have asked me what my connections in the village are. As such it is no surprise that out of an eight man crew my dad counted three as cousins (John Blewett, Stephen Madron and Barrie Torrie).

It was interesting, and tough, viewing. As the story unfolded it was possible to pick out a decision made by the coxswain of the Solomon Browne and one by the skipper of the Union Star where the tragedy could have been averted. I guess the wisdom of hindsight makes us all omniscient. However regardless of this pragmatism, I think the main thing that triumphed for me was the heroism is of men who where unknown and overlooked and who in their deaths achieved a greatness and recognition that their lives to that point had denied them. The moment where their radio went dead was devastating.

In some ways it reminded me of my Great uncle Maurice (see post dated 11.03.06), and the single-minded madness that seemed to have overcome him when he died. He too did not seem to be thinking of anything apart from the task at hand. His personal safety did not even enter his thoughts. I cannot say I have ever been in a situation like these, where my decision means life or death. I guess in moments like these we are all capable of greatness, just as the crew of the Solomon Browne were. Whether or not we achieve it is in our hands.

Read more here:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/december/20/newsid_2539000/2539173.stm

Night Time

The moon threw her paling light down on me

As I beat a strange new path through the mire

She was an aged moon, yellow and worn,

Pitted and dotted with the marks of time.

She shone down still; though her light was fading,

Though she would unnotedly be replaced.

She read my thoughts and serenely replied:

“I have a lifetime of experience:

Know birth, death, sorrow, joy, and contentment

Which lies above. I have touched waste and want,

Need and neglect. And they have touched me too.

My time, it has been so full, and I am ripe.”

As she spoke she faded – I needed her.

She stopped, gathered her strength, and shone again.

“There will be new light’s sliver tomorrow

And new light will pass again and again

Very soon no one will remember me.

I dim, but I am still a wealth of one”

Sunlight

Splashing across my conscience

And causing things to grow

Making my arms twist upwards

And my toes dig roots deep within the earth

Letting branches swing forth from my finger tips

And buds grow in my palms

Which bloom from my pen