Memories ...

 

While on a road trip, an elderly couple stopped at a roadside restaurant for lunch. After finishing their meal, they left the restaurant, and resumed their trip.

When leaving, the elderly woman unknowingly left her glasses on the table, and she didn't miss them until they had been driving for about forty minutes.

By then, to add to the aggravation, they had to travel quite a distance before they could find a place to turnaround, in order to return to the restaurant to retrieve her glasses.

All the way back, the elderly husband became the classic grumpy old man. He fussed and complained, and scolded his wife relentlessly during the entire return drive.

The more he chided her, the more agitated he became. He just wouldn't let up for a single minute. To her relief, they finally arrived at the restaurant.

As the woman got out of the car, and hurried inside to retrieve her glasses, the old geezer yelled to her, "While you're in there, you might as well get my hat and the credit card".

*******

You don't have to be old to be forgetful. I remember years ago my wife and I went to France. It wasn't until I got back home that I realised I'd left her in Paris. I must admit, once or twice during the return journey I had wondered why it was unusually quiet.  

Freedom

 

In the song "Me And Bobby McGee" Kris Kristofferson sings "Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose".

Now I must admit I never understood what this line meant; so I thought about it for a while. To my mind, freedom is not the absence of restriction. Freedom to me does not mean that you can do what you want. I don't think that's what God meant when He gave us "free will".

I believe that any kind or manner of freedom must have a set of boundaries, otherwise there would be total chaos in the world.

Imagine I had total freedom, without any boundaries, to drive anywhere I want, on whichever side of the road I choose, ignoring traffic lights, road signs and speed limits. My kind of freedom would soon cause chaos.

Freedom must have its boundaries.

In a Christian life these are known as the Ten Commandments. Often forgotten, misinterpreted or outright ignored.

In a Christian life freedom means having responsibility for that freedom gifted to us and to use it with caution and reverence.

Freedom also means having self-discipline and self-control. Knowing right from wrong and acting accordingly.

That's what freedom means to me.  

Elevator Grateful

 

I hurried down the corridor heading for the elevator. As I reached a swing door first I noticed behind me somebody following me. So I held the swing door open so that it doesn't shut in the other person's face. It was a woman; she followed me and went through the door, followed by another woman then a man and then two men. I stood there like a doorkeeper.

Eventually, as I let the swing door go shut again I heard the ping from the elevator indicating that it had gone. I looked at my watch impatiently and I waited for the elevator to come back again. Another woman joined me and we waited for a few minutes. As the elevator doors slid open I stepped back a little and let her go through first. She walked in, I followed her and the elevator went down.

Later that day, I don't know why, but I thought about the nine lepers who went away without saying thank you to Jesus for healing them. I don't think they were bad people. I don't think they were evil people. I don't think they were ungrateful people; but with the excitement of the situation that they were suddenly healed, they were so pleased, they were so happy and so overjoyed that they ran to their families to show them that they are now clean again. That they don't have to be away from society, that they don't have to be shunned by people anymore, that they are lepers no more; and in their happiness and in their excitement they just forgot to say thank you.

You know how it is … the sudden excitement makes you forgetful. And I don't think those people who followed me down the corridor when I held the door open for them, or the woman who went in first into the elevator without saying thank you or smiling … I don't think any of them are nasty evil people. They are just busy with their lives and they just got on with their lives … they just forgot to smile, nod or mumble thank you.

And let's face it; how many times am I as bad as them? How many times when I'm really worried about something or other and it turns out just fine do I forget to say thank you to Jesus for being beside me and for making sure everything worked out fine?

For all those times I forgot to be grateful … thank you Jesus.

Sure way to relieve stress

 

We all get stressed from time to time in this ever so demanding and difficult world. And we all have our own way of relieving stress when it happens to us. In fact, I would like to hear how you relieve stress. Please share your ideas which may be of some help to others, as well as to myself.

In my case, when I am stressed I have what I call a dry bath.

I go to the bathroom, take off all my clothes, and then sit there naked in the bath for half-an-hour or so. No water, no bubbles, no sponge or loofah or whatever else people have in their baths. Just me lying down on my back for a while in an empty bath in peace and quiet.

There are, of course, many advantages to having a dry bath. It saves on water and soap for a start. It saves time in that you don't have to dry yourself afterwards. It saves yet another towel which needs to be washed and dried and ironed. And best of all, the lack of gallons of water in the bath tub improves the acoustics in the room when I sing "Nessun Dorma" and other operatic arias. After all, you've never seen an opera singer sing whilst sitting in a water-filled bath, have you? There's a reason for that. Better acoustics.

Of course I do have a rubber duck, and a sail boat; but in the absence of water I have to precariously balance them on my body to make sure they don't tip over. They usually stay there throughout and don't fall off.

I just lie there reading the newspaper, which does not get wet because there's no water; or reading one of my published books - someone's got to read them after all!

Sometimes, if required, I vacuum clean myself with a small hand-held vacuum cleaner I have just purchased. It's quite an efficient way of keeping clean although I have to be careful I don't get my duck caught in the nozzle of the cleaner. Normally, a quick vacuum clean will suffice; although, if needed a few squirts of lemon scented Pledge gives one an extra shine.

At other times, I take with me a small, generously filled, glass of whisky. But again, with no water whatsoever. It helps relaxation and relieves stress.

So there you have it. My way of relieving stress. Have a dry bath. No need to get wet. No need to dry yourself afterwards. Just sit there with your favourite reading material, or knitting, if that's what you like to do, or even take your sketch pad with you and draw pictures of what you see, or anything else you like. You can even take your laptop or tablet with you, place it on your body, and type your next Blog post.

What's your way of relieving stress? Have you ever tried a dry bath or shower?

There was a woman in my bed

It was late in the evening when I entered my hotel room. It had been a long day at work with one meeting following another, and then I had to attend a Conference where they discussed ways to extrapolate sales and costs figures against profits in order to estimate how many paper clips we’ll need five years from now. It was so exhilarating that I could not sleep at all throughout the Conference.

Anyway, I got to my hotel room late and got myself in by using one of those electronic cards you put in a slot and the door opens. I did not bother to switch all lights on. A small light shone from a nearby table-lamp and this was enough. I intended to fall into bed and dream of better days.

As I took my jacket off a man got out of the en-suite bathroom in his pajamas. Why he had an en-suite bathroom in his pajamas I do not know. Maybe he was rich and could afford an en-suite bathroom in his pajamas; whilst the rest of us have to be content with an elastic band or a cord to keep our pajama pants up.

I don’t know what nationality he was, but as soon as he saw me the man said: “Qui êtes-vous? Que faites-vous ici?”

I know exactly what he said because I remember writing it down at the time. I then took out a dictionary to translate but could not understand a word. It was an Italian dictionary.

The man shouted at me and beckoned me to get out of my room. At which point an enormously rotund woman got up from my bed and she too started shouting at me “Allez-vous en!  Allez-vous en!” and waving her hands in the air. 

I wrote that down too but could not find a translation in my Italian dictionary.

I picked up my jacket and as I turned to get out I accidentally knocked a large wicker basket which was on the table beside me. The top of the basket opened and a flock of pigeons came flying out into the room. They flew everywhere, trying to land on something high up. Luckily the bedroom door was shut and they eventually settled on the wardrobe, hanged from the chandelier, (it was a posh hotel), and one settled on the man’s head.

There was cooing and flapping of wings everywhere. A few feathers floated in the air before settling to the ground. The pigeons did what most animals do when frightened and started leaving deposits everywhere. Including on the man’s head.

I was totally stunned by what had just happened and stood perfectly still. The rotund woman picked up the phone on the bedside table and started shouting in broken English “pee john pee john …”

Moments later a hotel porter entered the room and disturbed all the pigeons which started flying all over again and dropping deposits all over the place.

We waited until they had settled down and then he asked me “Why do you have pigeons in your room, Sir? Pets are not allowed in this hotel!”

I was astounded that he asked me about the pigeons and had totally ignored the fact that I also had a rotund woman in my bed and a man with an en-suite bathroom in his pajamas.

He asked for my electronic card which he tested on the door. It worked. He then took the man’s electronic card. It worked too.

You guessed it. It was a double booking and we’d both been given the same cards.

I picked up my luggage and was moved to another room.

By now you may be asking why there were pigeons in a wicker basket in my room.

Simple.

I was told the man was a magician and he used the pigeons in his act by making them appear and disappear out of a hat. Apparently his wife, whilst younger and less rotund, was a stripper and she too used the pigeons in her act. For an encore the pigeons used to take their feathers off! 

NOTE 

This was an excerpt from my memoirs "AS I QUOTE MYSELF". A book full of misadventures and mishaps to make you laugh out loud, or at least to smile.

PLEASE CLICK HERE

A recipe for ...

 

I often like to impart good advice on this Blog as part of the service I provide for my readers. This one will hopefully be of particular interest to my male readers.

First let me tell you how to prepare the tour-de-force which is central to my advice.

Take two of three cloves of garlic and mash them into a paste with a few drops of virgin olive oil. Add half-a-spoon of ground cinnamon and continue mixing until you have a smooth paste of consistent quality. No lumps ...

Now rub the paste gently on your bald head and keep it there for at least two hours.

This is guaranteed to make your hair grow again. Or so I'm told.

It will also repel mosquitoes and other annoying insects. But best of all, I am told, it will make you attractive to ladies. You will be a sex symbol for the woman who doesn't care!

Now I have had no reason to try this cure to baldness myself since I am already attractive and handsome. Anyway, personally I think some men are indeed very attractive without hair. Jean-Luc Picard in Star Trek for instance. Bruce Willis, Telly Savalas and many others.

Why, for a period, I had no hair myself. Let me tell you about it.

I went to the barber for a haircut and he asked me, "How would you like your hair cut?"

I was in a hurry to leave, so I looked at the barber and said, "cut my hair like yours!"

He took his electric machine and cut my hair totally off ... totally bald I was ... I protested and asked him what he was doing. This looked nothing like his haircut. He replied, "Yes it is ... but my hair has grown since I last cut it!"

A few weeks later my hair grew back and needed cutting again. This time I went to another hairdresser. I told him I wanted my hair cut just like Tony Curtis. He nodded, took out his electric machine and cut my hair totally off. I was bald once again.

 

I was totally furious. More furious than at the previous hairdresser. "I am totally bald," I said pointing at the obvious, "do you even know who Tony Curtis is?"

 

"Sure," he said, "I have seen him in 'The King And I' at least five times!"

 

Thankfully, a few weeks later my hair grew back again and needed cutting. Cautiously, I went to yet another hairdresser. We have plenty of them in our town.

 

This time I took no chances. I took with me a photo of Clark Gable from the film 'Gone With The Wind'. I asked the barber for a haircut like him.

 

The barber took out his electric machine and shaved my hair totally bald. Now I was really mad and furious. More than ever before. I shouted at the man.

 

"Look at the photo," I screamed, "Clark Gable is not totally bald!"

 

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "he would be if he came here for a haircut!"

Strangers in the night

 

I left the office at about 7:30 in the evening not intending to go home but to go to a newly opened very upper-class restaurant. I was to meet Miss Helen Wooden-Peck a plastic surgeon specialising mainly in nose reconfigurations as she called them. Our company was hoping to win a contract and be her publicity and marketing agents.

When I got to the restaurant, the maître d'or greeted me at the door and said, "Good evening, I am Gustav Armoire, may I take your coat Monsieur?"

"No," I replied, "get yourself your own coat!"

"You do not understand, Monsieur," he explained, "I weel only take it for zee safekeeping!"

I declined and he led me to a table where a young lady was sitting. Helen Wooden-Peck had obviously arrived before me. 

I sat down and offered to get some drinks to start with. A man sidled to our table and said, "Good evening Madame et Monsieur. I am Pierre Pied-à-Terre your sommelier zis evening."

"Sommelier?" I asked, "this is a wooden shoe isn't it?"

"No," said the young lady hiding a smile of derision, "that is a sabot!"

"What is?" I asked her.

"A wooden shoe is called a sabot," she explained, "a sommelier is a wine waiter".

Well, that was hardly a good start was it, showing her that I was ignorant and did not know a sabot from a sommelier. So to recover from my faux-pas, (this is a French phrase meaning wrong father, not to be confused with pas-de-deux which means father of twins).

Anyway, to recover from my mistake I suggested she chose the wine; which she did and decided on Château Expensive.

I tried to steer the conversation away from plastic surgery per se and tried to get an idea on how she would like her business advertised and who she considered as her main clientèle.

"Oh ... it is builders mainly," she said, "builders, building contractors, roadworks engineers, that sort of people."

I was about to ask why specifically these people. Are they particularly susceptible to requiring plastic surgery to their faces? Did they perhaps fall over more than any other profession? And are there enough of them to warrant her having a successful business? 

Before I said a word I was interrupted by another man at our table who said, "Good evening. I am Marcel Petit-Pois your personal advisor zis evening. The Maître Chef today is Renard Mangetout assisted by Madelaine Bonne-Appetit. May I suggest your repas?"

"Great," I thought. "This is a novel idea. They have someone suggesting what you'll eat. No doubt he'll pick the most expensive things on the menu!"

Yet again, before I could speak, she interrupted and said, "What a good idea. Surprise me with something typically French!"

"I suggest you start with poussins roti" he said.

I did not know what that was and imagined some sort of rat based dish; like ratatouille. Isn't roti rat in French? Anyway, as per usual she took the lead and agreed and the waiter left for the kitchen.

I picked up the conversation where it left off and asked why in particular those trades people would be her clients.

"They much prefer the mix-concrete that we use," she said, "we are leading suppliers of all sorts of cements and different types of sands. Did you know that there's different sands to suit various projects?"

I nodded politely and said nothing. I did not want to display another set of ignorance to someone who could well award us a major advertising contract. I pretended to understand and wondered how sand and cement fitted in plastic surgery.

She continued to explain about the different kinds of sands and cement as the waiter returned with the poussins roti, which turned out to be little chickens covered with sauce, and not rats as I had imagined.

At that point her cell-phone rang. She excused herself and walked away from the table for a few moments.

I prodded the little chicken on my plate with my fork to see how difficult it would be to carve without making a mess. Especially since it was covered in some brown sauce of some kind.

Unfortunately, my prod was somewhat a little enthusiastic because the damned chicken slid off my plate and flew to the ground some feet away. As bad luck would have it, at that precise moment another waiter passed by carrying some plates and his foot got wedged into the backside opening of the chicken. He walked away towards the kitchen taking with him the chicken stuck to his shoe.

Before I could say anything, the young lady returned to see my plate totally empty as if I had devoured the whole chicken bones and all in a matter of two minutes or so.

She was too much a lady to say anything and sat down daintily attempting to eat her poussin. I must admit, she was very adept at it, and did not even wet her lips with the sauce as she ate.

"Good news," she said, "we just had delivery of twenty tons of high quality cement. That should last us at least a week!"

"Twenty tons of cement in a week?" I thought, "who is she doing a nose job for?  Cyrano de Bergerac?"

I nodded and smiled and said nothing. I was told years ago that the best thing to do when having a meal with a woman is to let her talk, ask questions and look interested. No woman ever said, "What a date that was! All I did is talk about myself!"   

Anyway, the meal continued with me learning a lot about sands and cements.

As we left I suggested, "Perhaps it would be a good idea if you were to visit our offices and meet my boss, Miss Wooden-Peck!"

"Wooden-Peck?" she said, "why did you call me Wooden-Peck?"

"That's ... that's your name," I mumbled.

"I am Taurpaulin MacAdam!" she said, "who is Wooden-Peck?"

I did not answer her and went in the restaurant searching for my missing nose plastic surgeon. She was nowhere to be found. I could not sniff her out from a plate of snails in garlic sauce.

The next morning my boss informed me that I had gone to the wrong restaurant and we nearly lost the advertising contract with Helen Wooden-Peck. Luckily she was very understanding at my standing her out and agreed to go out for a meal with my boss instead.

My colleagues suggested I cement good customer relations with our existing clients instead!

The Leaning Tree

 

Father Francis Maple in one of his sermons makes a good point about our relationship with God by referring to a leaning tree. Here's what he says:
 
I think of a life as a tree. If a tree leans in one direction when it dies it will fall in that direction. It is not going to fall in the opposite direction. So, too, with our lives. If all the time we are leaning towards God, very likely, with God's grace we shall fall into His arms when we die. But if our lives never point to God, it is very likely that when we die we shall die in enmity with God.

Paul's Letter to the Thessalonians

 

In his first letter to the Thessalonians Paul says:

"Rejoice at all times. Pray without ceasing. Give thanks in every circumstance, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus". 

1 Thessalonians 5:17 onwards.

Let us examine what he says further.

Rejoice at all times: I see so many people in church on their knees praying yet their faces look like a mile of bad road. It is as if they are carrying the whole world on their shoulders. Being charitable for a moment, I know that life is not always a bed of roses and that sometimes we all go through bad times. Yet, having said this, I see too many Christian people with sad faces all the time. Is this really a good advert for our faith? Is this what we would like others to think of Christianity when they see us? 

Pray without ceasing: I don't think Paul is suggesting that we pray 24/7 from the moment we wake up. Life is not meant to be spent on our knees and when we get to meet Peter at the Pearly Gates I doubt that he will check if we have callous knees like a camel's. Life is to be enjoyed and it is not an endurance test in preparation for the next. Remember "Rejoice at all times".

Paul is reminding us here to be in constant communication with God. We wake up in the morning and thank Him for another day and that we survived the night. When we're preparing breakfast we thank Him that we have enough to meet our daily needs and that of our family. As we travel to work, or wherever, we thank Him and ask Him to keep us safe. When we meet someone who tells us of their difficulties and problems we say a silent prayer for that person.

That's what Paul means by praying without ceasing. To be in constant contact with God throughout the day. And to be receptive when He speaks to us.

Give thanks in every circumstance, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus: Whatever happens in life, no matter how bad and difficult the situation, we should thank and praise God for it. We are not thanking and praising Him for the bad situation itself, but we are doing so because we acknowledge that He is still in control. Whatever the situation, we thank Him for being in control.

By doing so, we somehow open a channel whereby God turns the bad situation to the good; for us or for someone else. Maybe someone sees how we tackle the bad situation and somehow our example brings them closer to God. Perhaps our situation changes us for the better in some way. When we praise God for being in control of every situation He will often turn it to the good. I have seen this many times.

Missing Cross

 

Evening Mass had finished half-an-hour ago and the congregation had long departed to their homes. Father Ignatius tidied up in the Sacristy and then entered the church and sat on the front pew, just where he normally sits by the statue of the Virgin Mary. He took his Rosary from his pocket and started praying.

A few minutes later he heard a noise from the back of the church. It sounded as if someone was trying to break into the collection box for the poor.

He got up and hurried to the back. “Is anyone there?” he shouted.

A figure ran out in the dark. He heard something crash to the ground and then he saw the back door open and slowly close again as the spring on the door pulled it shut.

As he reached the exit door at the back of the church Father Ignatius switched on the lights in the porch. He noticed that a small table which had various leaflets and pamphlets for visitors had been knocked to the ground by the escaping intruder. Papers and pamphlets were strewn everywhere.

More out of instinct than intelligent thinking the priest rushed out to the car park … but he saw no one there.

Father Ignatius entered the church again and locked the door behind him. He was somewhat shaken by the whole experience and wondered what he would have done if the intruder attacked him.

He picked up the table and started collecting the papers and pamphlets from the floor. It was then that he noticed that the Crucifix which hung on the wall by the back door was missing.

He opened the door again, instincts taking over his actions once more, and got out. He looked aimlessly everywhere hoping against hope to find the missing Crucifix.

It was then that he saw Father Donald drive in and park his car in the usual place.

Days later, Father Ignatius was walking Canis the dog in the park opposite the church. News of the intruder had been mentioned in the weekly church newsletter and the Crucifix was still missing.

“It’s probably been sold for a few pennies …” thought Father Ignatius, as the dog stopped by a tree to sniff in the delectable canine fragrances deposited there.

At that moment the priest noticed two men approaching him. One was well built and about six feet tall and reminded Father Ignatius of a wrestler he’d seen fighting on TV. The other was slightly smaller and had a scar on his left cheek. They both wore hats and heavy overcoats. They stood about two feet away with their hands in their coat pockets. The giant one had a small matchstick in the corner of his mouth and said nothing.

“Are you Father Ignatius from the church over there?” asked the smaller man.

“Yes … I am …” said the priest holding back the dog on a very tight leash.

“We’ve heard about the break-in you had the other day … that’s terrible …”

“Yes … I suppose it is …” replied Father Ignatius hesitantly, retreating a little to keep the dog from jumping on them. Canis growled once or twice as he pulled on the lead, the hairs on his neck standing almost vertically.

“I’m sorry someone stole the Cross your Holiness.”

“Eh … it’s not your Holiness … you address the Pope as your Holiness …” corrected Father Ignatius and then quickly bit his lip as he remembered who he was speaking to.

“I see …” continued the smaller man, “I know who stole your Cross … rest assured your Holy … rest assured Father Ignatius, that it will be returned to you … with recompense …”

“Thank you … there’s no need for …”

“Enough said …” interrupted the smaller man, as both of them turned round and walked away to the sound of a barking Canis and a priest having difficulty controlling him.

As he arrived back to the Parish house Father Ignatius found a small packet by the church door. It contained the missing Cross and £100 in used notes in an envelope.

The following day two men called on Father Ignatius. They identified themselves as detectives from the local police force. He invited them in the visiting room and offered them tea.

“No thanks …” said the senior one of the two, “we’d just like to ask you a few questions …”

“How can I help you?” asked the priest.

“Yesterday evening you were seen speaking with David Garton and his henchman in the park …”

“I spoke with two men … that’s right …” replied Father Ignatius.

“We’d like to know what they said …” asked the junior detective.

“Well … I’m not sure I can help you …”

“Do you know who these people are?” interrupted the junior.

“No … I’ve never met them before …”

“Well Father,” the senior detective said gently, “let’s say they are unsavory characters …”

“They may have confessed to the break-in which you had here the other day … which by the way you did not report to the police … that’s an offence you know …” interrupted the junior officer again.


“Well …” replied Father Ignatius calmly, “if they had confessed to anything, you know very well that I could not tell you about it …”

“There is such a thing as withholding evidence …” interrupted the junior policeman again.

Before Father Ignatius answered the senior detective spoke again gently.

“Well Father … shall we leave it at that for now. You met up with Garton and Stones, you’d never seen them before yesterday evening, and you do not feel disposed to tell us what they said.”

“Yes that’s right …” replied the priest.

“Good … we won’t trouble you further. But should you change your mind please contact me on this number … by the way I’m pleased to note that the missing Cross is back in its place …”

Before the priest could say anything the detective continued, “shall we say you found it somewhere in the car park … that would be accurate I think …”

Father Ignatius nodded and the policemen left never to return again.

To this day Father Ignatius wonders whether he handled the situation well. He prayed about it often and he was clear in his mind that he should not have said anything to the police; not under those circumstances anyway. But should he perhaps have reached out to the two men in the park? Could he have said something that … perhaps … may have led them to experience the love of Christ?

The £100 was used to buy food for the old people in his Parish. 

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Driving to work

These are my thoughts on my long drives to and from work.

Dum … de dum … de dum … dum dum de dum dum … do …

Ooh … dear me … Another long drive to work huh …

Every day, every morning, I have to drive for miles and miles to go to work and I always get stuck on this motorway.

There's always some holdup or other over here. It’s either an accident, a detour or some road works. And it's the only motorway to take me to work there isn't another way of going there. I can see cars ahead for miles and miles and cars all around me and behind me too.  We're all driving at zero miles an hour. Every day going to work by car and driving back home again in the evening.

What a waste of time what an effort. Everyone in our office does not live in the city. They all live in towns and villages around the city and they all come into work every morning. Some by car, some by train, and there's a couple of people who come in by motorcycle. So we all wake up in our homes at the early hours and get to work in the city and go back home every evening.

And it takes us hours to do this journey every day. What a waste of time and effort, not counting the financial cost of fuel and on the environment.

Now … there must be a better way surely of doing this. After all … we've all got access to the internet and we all have cell phones and television. Surely there must be a way of connecting us all and we can communicate with each other on the internet and on cell phones. And we don't need to go to the office at all. We can all work from home and save us all this driving …

Yeah … I'm sure we can all do that … I’ll mention it to the boss. It will save our organisation a fortune too, I bet.

Oh … the doorkeepers … that's one thing I forgot. The doorkeepers or security guards as they call themselves these days. I forgot about them. They can’t work from home can they?

Or can they? I suppose they can work from home too … we can fit a camera by the front door in our office building entrance and they can have a monitor at home and they can actually check through their monitors who wants to come in and out of the building. They can check their identity cards and with a remote control button they can actually open the doors to the office. Brilliant! 

Mind you the doorkeepers will still have to come in in the morning anyway to open up and let the cleaners in because the cleaners come in very early in the morning and they are not company employees. They don’t each have identity cards as individuals. 

Also the delivery men and women … you know … people delivering mail, parcels and such things. They don’t have ID cards and someone’s got to let them in the building.

One doorkeeper can be designated to come in early and open up for them, then go home and monitor the whole proceedings with his camera and remote control button to open the door. Simple!

A better idea would be to recruit cleaners who are married to doorkeepers. That way the cleaners could have a key to the building and open up for themselves and when they finished cleaning they can give the key to their doorkeepers husbands. I’ll speak to the HR Department about this.

An even better idea would be to hire doorkeepers who can also do the cleaning. Pay them a little bit more and it is cheaper than hiring two people one to clean and the other to mind the doors.

Wait a minute … wait a minute … if we're all working from home do we need to open up to clean the building anyway?

Oh … something else I forgot … the restaurant … the restaurant staff … they need to come in and prepare the meals … let’s think about this … I suppose they can work from home too … you know … they can do the cooking and washing of the pots and pans and all that from home and bring the food into the building at lunchtime for the staff to eat.

I guess our employees can drive to the office at lunchtime for their meals then return home to work …

No that's too complicated … let's think this through. If we all work from home and we all eat our own food at home, we don't need the restaurant staff at all do we? We can close the restaurant and save on restaurant staff, save on cleaning, save on doorkeepers too.  Fire the lot of them.

I'm not thinking this very well am I? If there's nobody in the office what is the point of having an office?

Customers … customers I've forgot about the customers … Now all our customers are from other businesses we work with. Other businesses and their employees come to us to discuss marketing campaigns and sales figures and things like that. So it's mostly meetings with other businesses employees … Okay what if we get our customers to visit us at home for all these meetings? That would be fun for them and we can close our offices altogether and save all that rent and electricity and heating and all that … and save all that driving every day.

That's it … that's a good idea … we close everything and we'll get our customers to come and meet us in our homes

Mind you … that would cause me some difficulties because of my cat. I'm sure my cat will find a way to embarrass me with my customers. No doubt he’ll bring in a half-dead mouse to the meeting. It always boils down to my cat. I can't do anything with my cat. We could all work from home if it wasn't for my cat. I'll have to think this through before discussing it with my boss.

Meanwhile … drive on … yeah … drive on.

Does your faith measure up?

 

One day, a synagogue leader named Jarius, pleaded with Jesus to come and heal his daughter. 

So Jesus went with him, and a large crowd followed and pressed around Him. And a woman was there who had suffered from bleeding for twelve years. She had borne much agony under the care of many physicians and had spent all she had, but to no avail. Instead, her condition had only grown worse. When the woman heard about Jesus, she came up through the crowd behind Him and touched His cloak. For she kept saying, "If only I touch His garments, I will be healed." Immediately her bleeding stopped, and she sensed in her body that she was healed of her affliction. At once Jesus was aware that power had gone out from Him. Turning to the crowd, He asked, "Who touched my garments?" His disciples answered, “You can see the crowd pressing in on You, and yet You ask, ‘Who touched Me?’ ” But He kept looking around to see who had done this. Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell down before Him trembling in fear, and she told Him the whole truth. “Daughter,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be free of your affliction.” (Mark 5:24 onwards)

Let us consider the actions of this woman for a moment. She had been suffering from an illness that was getting worse for a long time. She had heard about Jesus. No doubt she heard stories about His miracles and His healing many people. 

She thought ... if only ... if only I could get close enough to Him and touch Hid garments, I know I'll be healed. I don't even have to ask Him. He is so powerful, so almighty, that just touching Him will heal me. Just touching Him. Compared to all the money I spent on doctors over the years ... just touching Him.

Can you imagine the level of faith she had? To know for certain that she will be healed by Jesus just by touching Him?

Do you have that much faith when you pray to God for healing, or for some favour? Do I have that much faith?

Are we sure in our prayers that they will be heard and answered by God? How does our faith compare to that of this woman?

Notice that Jesus says, "Daughter, your faith has healed you."

Often we read that when Jesus heals someone He mentions that their faith has healed them. Does He ever say that to us? "Your faith has made your prayers answered."

Notice also that Jesus calls her "Daughter". I don't think there's any other instance where He calls someone "Son" or "Daughter".

In this case, He is reminding her, and us, that we are all children of God.

Facts I did not know

 

I have gathered together some facts I did not know in case you don't know them either.

Did you not know that in men's shirts the buttons are on the right hand side of the shirt and the button holes are on the left. Whereas on a lady's blouse it's the other way round. The buttons are on the left and the button holes are on the right. Why is that? Does anyone know?

I went to the supermarket the other day. I found tuna in a tin. Also pilchards in a tin. As well as sardines, anchovies and also crab meat; and I believe they have prawns in tins too. But there was no goldfish in a tin. Why is that? Does anyone know?

I asked the shop attendant and he did not know. I asked to see the manager and they asked me to leave the shop or be thrown out.

Years ago I joined an orchestra. I've always fancied myself as a musician playing in an orchestra famous tunes like Nessun Dorma from Turandot, or the Triumphal March from Aida. The maestro type person out front asked me what instrument do I play. I said the paper and comb. You know ... you fold a bit of thin cigarette paper on a comb and hum. They threw me out of the orchestra. They said there has never been a paper and comb musical instrument in any orchestra in the world. Does anyone know why not? 

I was reading about Albert Einstein the other day. I don't know why. He never reads my books anyway. 

Did you know that he said that a dropped object does not fall down in a straight line, but it curves as it falls down? Instead of falling vertically down, the object's line of travel will bend a little as it falls. He called this phenomenon GEODESIC ORBIT. Read all about it by clicking on the words. It's fascinating.

Have you ever been fascinated? I was fascinated once by a nurse. She did it with a needle in my arm.

Anyway, back to Einstein. You will not see the curve of a dropped object here on earth because you're too close and the object drops very fast. A dropped object here on earth drops at a speed of 32 feet per second, per second. This means that speed increases as the object is dropped from a great height. 

However, if you go out in space and a man on earth dropped an object, you will still not be able to see the curvature of the dropped object because you're too far away.

Moving on to another scientist. Charles Darwin for instance. He was as clever as Einstein. That is because he did not spend his time playing computer games but stayed in after school and did his homework and more besides.

He claimed that creatures evolve. There is some truth in this. In Northern England there was a particular species of moth which was white. As industries grew and factories and homes burnt coal; more and more buildings became darker in appearance as the coal dust from the smoke settled on brickworks and generally everywhere.

In time, the moth bred a new offspring which was darker in colour to enable it to camouflage from its prey. So a different species evolved. In essence it was the same moth which changed colour through the generations. When eventually Britain stopped burning coal and new buildings were put up, after various generations the moth changed back to its original lighter colour.

I went to see my lawyer the other day. It was evening. A moth flew in through the window and asked him for help. "I'm always sad and depressed," she said, "I always fear the worst and I'm afraid of the dark!"

"I can't help you," said the lawyer, "I am not a psychiatrist!"

"I know," replied the moth.

"Why did you come in then?" asked the lawyer.

The moth replied, "because the lights were on!"

Why are moths attracted to light? Does anyone know? And what do they do at daytime when the lights are switched off? Do they fly towards the sun? It must take them ages to get there and once they do they get burnt like Icarus. 

Icarus got burnt because he suffered from hubris. 

Hubris describes a personality quality of extreme or excessive pride or dangerous overconfidence, often in combination with (or synonymous with) arrogance.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Never rely on what you think you know.  Proverbs 3:5

Time for smiles

 

Waiter: “How do you like your steak, sir?”

Me: “Like winning an argument with my wife.”

Waiter: “Rare it is!”

Little Tommy asked the teacher to help him get his shoes on at the end of a busy day. After quite a struggle with the shoes, which were a little tight, his teacher finally got them on.

'They're on the wrong way round, Miss,' mumbled Tommy.

She realises that he is right; they are on the wrong feet. Staying calm she swaps them over for him. 'They're not my shoes, Miss,' Tommy murmurs again.

The teacher fights hard to keep her cool and asks Tommy why he hadn't told her before. She then kneels down again and helps him pull the shoes off.

'These aren't my shoes, they're my brother's and Mum told me not to tell
anyone.'

At this point his teacher can feel tears coming. She helps him back into his shoes. She gets him into his coat and wraps his scarf round his neck.

'Where are your gloves, Tommy?' she asks quietly.

'Oh, Miss, I always put them in my shoes!'

A chicken crossed the road and met James Bond. The chicken said ‘What’s your name?’

‘Bond, James Bond, what’s yours?’ came the reply.

‘Ken, Chick Ken.’

I couldn’t afford an Ancestry DNA Kit, so I just announced that I had won the Lottery.

I soon found out who all my relatives are.

When someone asks me if I’m seeing anyone, I automatically assume they’re talking about a psychiatrist.

And now some religious humour.