Tosca Puccini

 

I was on the train the other day. It was a long journey and I was a little tired after a hard day at work counting paper clips. I had to write a report estimating how many paper clips we will need over the next three years so we can order them now before the price goes up. 

The train was rocking to and fro as it danced to the clicketty clack clicketty clack music of metal wheels on metal rails. 

I closed my eyes and somehow a tune came to my head. You know how sometimes, out of the blue, you remember a tune and it keeps playing on and on in your head all day? Well this happened to me. A piece of music came to mind. I think it was opera. I have never been a fan of opera really. I don't see the point of people singing instead of talking.

Imagine you're at the supermarket and you sing to the assistant, "How much is that doggy in the window?" You would not do that would you? Besides, they don't sell dogs in supermarkets, so why would you ask for it in song?

Anyway, this opera tune came to my head, and with eyes closed I moved a finger in the air as if holding a baton and conducting an opera. My index finger went up and down in the air in tune with the music's increasing crescendo in my head. (Have you noticed how I used the word "crescendo"? It makes people think I'm educated!)

So, as the music decelerated to a slow ending I opened my eyes satisfied with my talents as an opera conductor.

The man sitting opposite me on the train smiled too and said, "that was E lucevan le stelle from Tosca by Puccini!"

"What?" I said.

"The tune you were conducting with your finger. It's from Tosca by Puccini!" he said.

"Eh? I don't know ..." I hesitated.

"Yes ... I'm sure of it," he insisted, "It goes like this ..." and then, to my surprise, he started humming a tune which was exactly what I had been playing silently in my mind.

I was flabbergasted. All my flabber was truly gasted, I tell you. I was besides myself. I was sitting there and again sitting beside myself. Has it ever happened to you? A strange feeling I tell you.

"How did you know what tune I was playing in my head?" I asked.

"I followed your finger!" he said, "I could see your finger going higher, and then lower in the air. Then fast and slow. So I followed the tune you were playing in your head."

"Surely not?" I retorted incredibly and incredulously.

"It's true," he insisted, "and before that you were playing in your head Nessun Dorma from Turandot, also by Puccini. Am I right?"

"Yes ..." I hesitated again. How could this man read the music in my head by the movement of my finger in the air?

He smiled.

I had to prove him wrong. I just had to. So I challenged him.

I closed my eyes, folded my arms tight, and tried to clear my head of any thoughts whatsoever. No thoughts at all. Not always easy to do. But I can do it when I think about it.

"All right," I said, "what music was I playing then?"

"The Sound Of Silence" he smiled again.  

The lizard and the spider

Once upon a time there was a lizard walking slowly from twig to twig in a bush in search for his next meal. He noticed right ahead a tasty spider sleeping in his web. The lizard approached its prey carefully and swiftly lashed out with his tongue in the hope that he would catch the spider and eat it.

But the spider was rather large and so was his intricate web built there in the bushes to catch unsuspecting insects. Sure enough, the lizard got his tongue entangled in the web. As he retreated he pulled the web with him and so awakened the spider.

The spider, thinking he had got someone trapped in his web moved forward and tried to entangle the lizard even more in the sticky web. That way, his prey would eventually die and be ready as a next meal.

The lizard pulled the web with his feet trying in vain to attract the spider forwards to be eaten.

The spider pulled back too in the futile hope that he could entangle the lizard in his sticky web.

This pulling on either side went on for a while until eventually the web was torn and both creatures fell to the ground below.

The spider hid in the undergrowth and said, "he was too much for me, perhaps I should concentrate on flies and mosquitoes!""

The lizard ran into the bushes and said, "he was too much for me, perhaps I should concentrate on flies and mosquitoes!"

AND THE MORAL OF THIS STORY IS:

Don't be a fly, or a mosquito. Be anything. A spider, a lizard, a lion or a hippopotamus even. But not a fly or a mosquito!!!

 

KNOW WHO YOU ARE

Titan

 

No ... not Titian the painter ... Titan the moon. Titan is one of Saturn's seven moons and has nothing to do with this lady mooning the gardener watching from outside. Do you see him on the left dressed in red?

As I was saying before you got distracted by Titian's painting. Titan is the largest moon of Saturn. One of seven. A bit like Snow White and the seven dwarves; only in this case it is Saturn and the seven moons.

Titan is primarily composed of ice and rocky material. Ice? Equals water perhaps? Does it resemble Earth I wonder? Can we live there? That is if we can afford the bus fare to reach it in time before the shops close?

The atmosphere of Titan is largely nitrogen; minor components lead to the formation of methane and ethane clouds. 

Methane. Have you heard of this before? It is what humans produce after eating too many beans. Cows produce it too, as well as many other animals. Methane is heavier than air. It is also flammable. Ask any teenager to explain it to you.

Because methane is heavier than air it tends to fall to the ground and form "lakes" or "seas" of liquid methane and ethane on Titan. Don't consider taking a holiday there with your swimming costume. Apart from smelling awful, methane is also poisonous when breathed. And one cigarette will set the whole place in flames. 

Besides, it is freezing cold on Titan. The lower temperature is about −179.2 °C; −290.5 °F. So take your coat with you, as well as thermal underwear.

Titan was discovered on March 25, 1655, by the Dutch astronomer Christiaan Huygens; although we do not know whether they speak in Dutch or not up there. 

Titan is the only known moon with a significant atmosphere, and its atmosphere is the only nitrogen-rich dense atmosphere in the Solar System aside from Earth's. However, despite this rich atmosphere there are no bars, night clubs or any forms of entertainment up there.

So you'd be better off staying here on Earth which is more tolerable weather wise, has less methane which you can blame on the dog if you happen to let off one, has night clubs, pubs and all forms of entertainment, as well as art galleries where you can go and view Titian's paintings if you like.

Where are you?

 

Some time ago I went to the zoo and saw this bear. He sat there looking at me and I looking at him. So I asked him, "Where are you?"

He didn't reply. He kept looking at me wondering who is this idiot talking to a bear and expecting an answer. But he did not comprehend the depth and wisdom of my question. He was sitting there in a very large area full of bushes, trees and grass and shade and so on. A bit like being in the wild really. As far as he was concerned he thought he was in his native environment. Not that he knew where his native environment was. He was probably born there where he was. So to him, he was happy at home. Little did he know he was in a zoo. In a closed and secure environment from which he could not escape. He did not care about the fence between him and me. He had plenty of room in which to enjoy life and I was an unwelcome distraction.

I moved on to the rhino; also in a very wide field with what seemed miles of land. Standing by the fence between us I asked him, "Where are you?"

He was thick-skinned and totally ignored me as I was disturbing his lunch.

It was the same with the camel. When I stood by his fence and shouted, "Where are you?" he had the hump, or two humps to be precise, and kept on chewing on something without responding.

Not much luck with the ostriches which did not really care where they were either. It seemed that none of these creatures really realised that in effect they were in an enclosure. Sure, they were free to go and do what they wanted; but within strict limitations.

When I asked this llama "Where are you?" he replied, "I'm on the top of the world lookin' down on creation. And the only explanation I can find. Is the love that I've found, ever since you've been around.

Your love's put me at the top of the world."

 

The poor creature did not realise that he too was in an enclosure.

Then I heard myself ask myself, "Where are you?"

 

And I slowly realised I was in an enclosure too. I was part of a society, a group of people, citizens of a country, a continent and a planet. And as such I had to follow certain patterns, and rules and regulations regarding my behaviour and interactions with other people in my society. Just like these animals, I was free, but within strictly defined limitations. If I stepped out of these limitations, imposed by my society, I would suffer the consequences. Just like these animals would if they jumped over the fence and left their enclosures.

Who is more free I wonder? Us or the animals?

As I moved on a parrot flew by and laughed at me saying, "Who's a silly boy?"

À la recherche du temps perdu

À la recherche du temps perdu. In Search of Lost Time 

by Marcel Proust

 

I guess this is a much abbreviated version by yours truly, which is much more personal and poignant. Although I must admit I don't know what poignant means. I just use such words sometimes to give my writings a certain je ne sais quoi. I don't know what that means either. Let me look both up in the dictionary.

 

As I was saying, there are times when our thoughts take us back to times gone by when we were young, and foolish perhaps, and life was so different and simpler than it is now. Such an occasion occurred recently when I was alone at home and I had lost a goldfish. I counted the ones in the pond in the garden and realised that one was missing - I think it was the gold and white one. 

 

How did that happen? I hear you ask. Oddly enough, I asked the same question to no one there. And no one heard at all. Not even the chair. Or Neil Diamond for that matter. (Guess the name of the song!)

 

After a search all over the house for the missing goldfish I eventually gave up and sat down totally exhausted. They say when you lose something it is always in the last place you look. Obvious really. Because when you find it in the last place, you just stop looking. Unless you decide to start looking for something else. A bit like hide-and-seek really.

I used to like playing hide-and-seek with my parents as a child. I used to close my eyes and count to 100 then look for them all over Europe. On one occasion they went to Australia to run away from me.

 

Whilst searching for the missing goldfish; the last place I looked was in the fridge, and he was not there. So I took a few cans of beer and sat down thinking.

 

My eyes caught an article in an open magazine on the table beside me. It read, "10 Things You Must Do before You Die". Oddly enough, "Yell for help!" wasn't one of them. I did nine of these things and then stopped because I did not want to tempt fate.

 

As we get older we must look after our health more. Last week when I visited the doctor he told me my sugar was too high; so I brought it down to a lower shelf. When I was in the doctor's insulting room I found a pen on the floor. I picked it up and asked him, "is this pen yours?" He said, "I don't know," then he took it and wrote a few words and said, "yes, it is definitely mine!"

 

"How do you know?" I asked.

 

He replied, "this is my handwriting!"

 

Whilst I was there, he tried to test my mental acuity. I did not know what "acuity" meant so I looked it up in my pocket dictionary. That didn't help. It was an Italian dictionary.

 

He asked me, "What do Alexander The Great and Winnie The Pooh have in common?" 

 

I answered, "their middle name!"

 

He wrote that down and then asked, "What do you get if you're in the North Pole and you sit on the ice for too long?"

 

I replied, "Polaroids!"

 

He wrote some more and asked, "do you ever wake up grumpy in the morning?"

 

I said, "not really ... I just let her sleep!"

 

He scribbled something in his notebook and then asked, "what would you do if a small child swallowed your front door key?"

 

I replied, "climb through the window!"

 

He scribbled something again and said nothing. I became concerned. I mumbled, "Doctor ... do you have any books on paranoia?"

 

He smiled and said, "they're right behind you!!!"

 

That made me feel worse. Was I being followed?

 

Whilst I was at the doctor's my wife rang. She said the car was not working because there was water in the engine. I was surprised she knew so much about technical matters, and said I'd pick her up. I asked her, "where is the car?"

 

She said, "in the river!"

 

She was very sad because that very day her sister rang her to say her husband left her. Apparently, he said he was going out to buy some milk and never returned. I asked my wife, "how is your sister coping?" 

 

She replied, "she's using powdered milk!"

 

Anyway, I sat there at home with my cans of beer reminiscing. I remembered that we were very poor in my childhood. I used to lie back in my bed at night and look at the stars and think to myself, "one day, I'll get that hole in the roof fixed when I can afford it."

We were very poor indeed. But even in our poverty we helped others. I recall once a beggar knocked on our door and my mom gave him some of our food to eat. The next day he gave her a book on how to cook!

 

Lots of people were poor in those days. I remember once at the shops an old lady at the till had all her shopping accounted for and it totalled £35.72

 

She did not have enough money to pay for her shopping. Although I was poor too I helped her out. She didn't want my help but I insisted and in no time we had put all her shopping back on the shelves. 

 

I remembered that day well. Because on my way back home I saw my neighbour walking two dogs. I said, "I didn't know you had dogs!" She replied, "they are not my dogs, they are my sisters'." 

 

I said, "your sisters are very ugly!" She slapped my face.

 

I liked music when I was young. Most people do, I suppose. I loved the song "Non, Je ne regrette rien" sung originally by Edith Piaf, and later by Mireille Mathieu. I wanted a tattoo of the lyrics but the tattooist declined because he could not speak French. 

 

So I got a tattoo of a potato smoking a pipe instead. He did it with a Biro pen and it washed off after a week.   

 

Anyway, back to where I started. À la recherche du temps perdu. In Search of Lost Time. 

 

Often, we spend time searching back into our memories for times gone by. But the real work starts now. 

 

Today.

 

Make yourself happy memories every day. They will sustain you in future when you look back and you go for a recherche du temps perdu. 

To sin ... the unforgivable sin ...

 

On my post yesterday, JoeH raises an important question in the comments box.

He asks, "Perhaps I should spend time in Hell, but for all eternity? Right next to Hitler?"

My answer, coming from a mere layman; I am no priest, or vicar or pastor, as some of you have assumed, is this.

We are all sinners. Me included. I can sin as the best, or worst, of you.

However, I do not believe that sinning alone will lead us to go down to hell without a parachute. God is not a computerised YES/NO machine that sends people to Heaven or Hell depending on a pre-calculated mathematical equation or similar formula. Our puny brains may devise such a system. But God is cleverer, and more loving and merciful, than this.

Let us consider what is sin. 

It is knowingly, and with intention, doing something seriously wrong, knowing that it is seriously wrong, yet doing it all the same, without any pressure or coercion from someone else.

Yes we're all sinners. We all listen to gossip, or start and partake in gossip. We're all a little selfish every now and then. Greedy perhaps. Or lazy. Or perhaps too severe, harsh, and lacking in humour. There's a variety of other sins which I'm sure you can think of that fall into this category.

Now if we all were to die with these sins on our conscience, and we were sent to hell as a result; then I guess hell will be a very overcrowded place, and Heaven so empty you would not be able to even get four people to play in a bridge cards game.

But as I said. God is not like that. He is not a black and white YES/NO type of God. If He were such a God then He would have been wasting His time saving us by offering Christ to die for us, and then turn His back on us on a technicality.

God is a loving, caring, Father God. He cares for His creations just like any good parent does. Would you banish your child and totally disown him because he has eaten all the cookies, or finished the jar of jam? Of course not. Then why do you imagine God would act in such a way?

God considers each person and each sin on an individual basis. He recognises that some sins are "non-intentional" sins. (My words. Not Biblical. Please do not write in complaining that I have invented a new dogma or doctrine).

When we listen or partake in gossip, or are greedy, or selfish, God knows it is us being somewhat stupid. Stupid is part of being human. It is in our DNA to be stupid.

God understands such sins born of human frailty. He forgives.

He forgives, unless it is a deliberate sin committed through full knowledge of its seriousness as I mentioned above. A sin committed and not confessed, and not repented upon, or forgiveness sought. A sin committed through effrontery, impudence and arrogance in defiance of God Himself. 

It is a thin line between gossip, and deliberately running down an individual with lies and deceit. Like the thin line between greed and total selfishness to the exclusion of all else. Or being severe and being tyrannical. Or between flirting and adultery. I'm sure you understand what I'm leading to here. 

God knows our intentions when we sin and He treats each sin and each individual accordingly.

I believe that when we die with "minor" sins on our conscience, (Again my word. Not Biblical), God does consider such sins and deals with them accordingly.

After all, He sought forgiveness on the Cross for those who put Him there. How does that compare with a "minor" sin like gossip?

I believe that those people who do end up in hell are those who deliberately and consciously want to go there. People who throughout their lives have consciously turned their back on God. Have consciously chosen to go their own way. To do it their way and to live by their rules; regardless how these affect other people.

I am certain that you can name many people throughout history, or people you have known, who may fall in this category.

People whom many would assume, or believe, that they should go to hell. For an eternity even.

But fortunately, this is not a decision for you or me to make. Only God decides who enters Heaven or goes to hell.

And one thing is certain. God does not make mistakes.

Forever Hell

 

Father Ignatius was taken aback by Quentin’s question one evening when they were watching TV in the Parish House living room. Quentin owned a small garage and workshop nearby and every so often he would take the priest’s car for maintenance or to fix something that had gone wrong. That evening, he’d just returned the priest’s car when an important football match had just started on TV. Quentin did not have time to go home to see the game, so the priest invited him in and they both enjoyed a mediocre game seeing their favorite team lose.
 
But football was not on the mechanic’s mind when he asked his unexpected question.

“Father …” he asked, “if God loves us so much, how can he possibly condemn someone to an eternity in hell? Eternity is a long time … it’s for ever like.”

Father Ignatius switched the TV off. He poured himself and Quentin another cup of coffee. He was playing for time and wondering how best to approach this subject.

“There is this misconception,” he said finally, “that priests know everything. Now that may be true of others but not necessarily me …”

Quentin smiled and said, “No matter how bad a person is, or was, surely an eternity is a long punishment. I feel sad for those in hell for ever and ever. If it was up to me, and I knew that someone was truly sorry and repented after his death, I would forgive him. Is God not more merciful than me? Does He forgive people after they die, if they truly repent?”

Father Ignatius put down his cup and replied, “Jesus tells us about hell in the Bible. It has been described as a place where fire burns and people stay there for ever. Christ’s parable about the rich man and Lazarus states that there is a chasm between earth and hell that cannot be bridged.

“So, seen from what the Bible tells us, it does seem that those who go to hell are there for an eternity.

“Now then … seen from your perspective, a human perspective, this does seem somewhat harsh. No matter what someone may have done, surely an eternity is too extreme a punishment.”

“That’s right” agreed Quentin.

“But God sees things from His perspective, which is of course different to ours.” continued the priest.

“You’re right in saying that He is merciful and forgiving. More than any human can be. But He is also just.

“Over the years, many wise heads have pondered the same question which you ask. So you’re not alone here Quentin; you’re amongst the great theologians and philosophers of history!”

Quentin smiled again.

“Some have argued that a merciful God would in His own time forgive those in hell and they would join Him in Heaven.

“Some have also said that God will some day forgive even Satan. And that hell will some day be empty as everyone there truly repents and is forgiven as they rejoin God in His Glory in Heaven.

“Now wouldn’t that be wonderful?” asked the priest, “humanity totally forgiven as a result of the ultimate sacrifice that Christ suffered for us.

“That is God’s love and mercy in the extreme. Total love, full of mercy and forgiveness!”

Father Ignatius stopped for while; then he went on just as calmly as before.

“But nothing of what I have just said is Biblical. There is nothing in Christian teaching that implies God will eventually forgive everyone, even those in hell.

“It’s human conjecture, borne of human nature, human sense of justice and forgiveness.

“God sees things God’s way; not our way.

“As I see it, God’s love is so much that He gave us the freedom of choice. We can choose to respond to His invitation to love or choose to ignore it.

“God’s invitation is always open. Even if we don’t RSVP.

“Now those who choose to ignore God will eventually end up in hell. Whether it is a burning fire, or whatever else we may imagine it to be, one thing is certain. Hell is an exclusion of God.

“No one goes there by mistake. We choose, through our actions, to exclude ourselves from God.

“For how long … I wouldn’t hazard a guess. An eternity maybe … or as you and others surmise perhaps as long as it takes for God to forgive, once again.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Quentin.

“Yes I know,” replied Father Ignatius, “and as I said, you’re not alone in your thinking.

“Was it not C S Lewis who said that the door of hell is locked from the inside?

“We send ourselves to hell by turning down God’s invitation to love … and we lock ourselves in self-imposed exile, by continuing to refuse to love Him, by continuing to refuse to acknowledge our sins and repent; rather than God locking us in from the other side of the door.”

“I see …” mumbled Quentin.

“But I repeat,” said Father Ignatius, “none of this is Biblical. It is merely the result of assumptions from human minds who like to believe in an eventual ‘get out of jail free’ card which we can all ultimately use.

“If you ask for my opinion. I believe God knows what He is doing. And nothing is impossible to God. We should trust Him to do the right thing!”

THIS STORY APPEARED IN MY BOOK

TAKE CARE OF MY SHEEP

CLICK HERE

 

A Vision Of Hell

The first thing I noticed as I entered hell is the total and absolute darkness of the place. Not the faintest glimmer of light shone in that bottomless abyss of intense void.

I tried hard to peer into the pitch-black darkness to make out something, but it was totally in vain. I could see nothing. Totally and completely nothing.

It was then that I noticed the full and utter silence which accompanied the extreme blackness of this place. Not a sound whatsoever. It was as if I had gone suddenly deaf. I rubbed my fingers in my ears and concentrated hard but silence reigned supreme. I clapped my hands together but heard nothing. I spoke to myself and could not hear my own voice.

Darkness and silence had partnered together and negated all the senses as I knew them. I could not smell anything whatsoever. No burning fires and brimstone, or the acrid smell of sulphur and burnt flesh I’d expected in this place. I could feel no burning sensation and pain. No cries of help or gnashing of teeth.

In other words; hell was nothing.

Hell was a total void of everything physical as I’d experienced in my previous life.

Yet in this pure nothingness I felt a very powerful and intense feeling of extreme sadness. An overwhelming grief leading to desolation and desperation tormented my very soul.

A continuous sensation of sorrow and anguish filled the emptiness which was hell.

I sensed another soul there too. I could not make out who or where it was but it was there, somehow, sharing the void with me.

I felt a telepathic communication with this spirit in similar torment. Not in words, not in images, but in a mutual empathic sensation, as if the two of us were one.

I shared that soul’s torment which had lasted for … … … an eternity.

There seemed to be no beginning as to when that soul arrived in this eternal void, nor any prospect of when its terrible, terrible, suffering would end. The total and perfect hopelessness of this state of nothingness, this state of wretched emptiness, engulfed the forgotten soul consumed by its everlasting regrets.

For this lost soul constantly and interminably viewed and reviewed over and again its past life on earth; filled with memories best forgotten yet brought to mind with no respite. The inner pain from such memories tortured this forgotten soul left here all alone.

I shared with this soul the deep desire to weep bitterly for its past mistakes and its present solitary ordeal. But this was not possible, for there are no tears in hell. No matter how strong the desire to cry in profound regret, and so gain some temporary relief, this was not possible in a state of total void. So the pain, sorrow and sadness built up within one’s soul and consumed it eternally from within; with no respite or relief whatsoever.

And what was worse, is that the soul’s constant feelings of regret were persistently underlined by another sensation.

For it knew with unshakable certainty of the existence of God.

This tormented soul had been given, on entering hell, undoubted and unquestionable proof that God indeed exists. And somehow, it had witnessed His immeasurable and overwhelming love for His creations.

Yet this soul also knew, without a doubt, that for an interminable eternity, it would be totally excluded from that Fatherly, Divine love.

I realized that hell consisted of complete isolation with ones thoughts and regrets, and the sure knowledge that there will never be an end in sight. No light at the end of the tunnel. For there is no tunnel.

A permanent state of inner pain and sorrow and regrets, coupled with the knowledge that God’s love is for ever out of reach.

“What a terrible state of despair and hopelessness” I thought, “to know for certain that God exists; and to know of His love for us; yet to be excluded from that perfect love for ever. To remain here, in a state of total void, filled with past memories and regrets for deeds long past. Alone, in permanent thoughts of total and infinite exclusion!”

I woke up suddenly from this turbulent dream.

It was then that I heard in my head, clear as a bell, the words: “Go and warn all you get to meet not to come to this place!”

NOTE

This is an excerpt from the book 

"MORE REFLECTIONS FOR THE SOUL". 

A selection of readings to help you reflect and meditate when praying or when in need of inspiration.

 PLEASE CLICK HERE

   

I don't care!

 

“I don’t care … I don’t care what you say … or what you think … I don’t care about you … I’m thick skinned and your views and opinions don’t affect me … I just lead my own life … Do as I please regardless of you or anyone else … Don’t bother me and leave me alone.”

“There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.

“The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. In hell, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’

“But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’

“He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my father’s house, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’

“Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’

“‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’

“He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’” Luke 16:19-31.

I am not unique

 

I am not unique. I always thought I was. I thought I was the only one who could write at length about anything I know absolutely nothing about. Apparently not. Other people can write absolute drivel just like me.

I was sitting at the hairdressers the other day waiting for my shoes to be mended. He does it as a side-line whilst you wait. You don't need to come back later and collect your head already styled and washed.

Anyway, there I was waiting for my turn to have my curls re-curled and I was reading this magazine. There was an article advocating that we should buy second-hand already-used toothbrushes instead of new ones. It seems already-used toothbrushes have the bristles already softened. Unlike new toothbrushes with hard bristles which can be harmful to the gums.

Now I'll admit I've often had problems with hard bristles; but never knew where to buy-already used toothbrushes. I just used to drive the car a few times over new toothbrushes to soften the bristles. Admittedly, sometimes this broke the handles of the toothbrush; but it was easier than searching into neighbours' trash bins. 

Did you also know that when you leave your hair behind when it's been cut you are leaving a lot of DNA at the hairdressers? DNA is that twisty thing within us which can identify us as a unique individual. The hairdresser can use the DNA in your hair to clone another you. Before you know it, there will be many copies of you walking around and you'll no longer be unique. Can you imagine? A whole street full of you! You would not know which one is the real you.

I always ask the hairdresser for my hair back. He stuffs it into my mended shoes as I leave.

Next door to the hairdressers there is a second-hand bookshop. It's not the shop that is second-hand, but the books in it. These are books that have been donated and they are sold and the money given to charity. 

On the bookshop's window it reads, "Don't judge a book by its cover. Come in and find out."

I'm glad I did. I've discovered that Dickens' Great Expectations has nothing to do with chocolates as I always thought. To kill a mocking bird is not about hunting. And Fifty Shades of Grey is not a colouring in book!!!

I also found out that Isaac Newton discovered gravy whilst sitting under an apple tree. What he was doing cooking outdoors under a tree I do not know. He also said, "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." He has obviously never had an argument with my wife. There's nothing equal in her reaction!!!

I picked up a book called Dictionary and read it for a while. The author kept changing the subject every minute or so. I could not make out the plot. 

In another book I learnt that the lobster's DNA never disintegrates. It renews itself. So technically it never ages and would not die. Unless you make a lobster thermidor  or a lobster bisque.

There was a book about fine wines. Did you know that fine wines are left to mature in oak caskets for many years in cellars in old castles or in caves by the sea? They mature to the sound of silence by Simon and Garfunkel, I believe. It said in the book you must not talk loudly when in such a cellar or cave as it disturbs the wine. 

There was also a book called Telephone Directory. I tried to read it but the list of authors was endless. No story or plot. Just a list of authors. Who'd ever buy a book like this?

My books are more interesting I tell you. You should try them HERE.

I'm offended I think

 

It seems to me that people today are too easily offended. They take offence at anything. Why don't they take the garden gate as well as the fence? If I were an ostrich I would be very offended at the bad publicity we ostriches get about burying our heads in the sand. This is not true. We can take offence at anything as good as the next man, or woman, or bird or anything for that matter.

In the olden days, when my great grand-mother, Aurelia Zephanaia theThird, took offence at something, she kept quiet about it. She did not have Facebook, Twitter and all the other social media outlets on which to publicise her offendability. 

Is there such a word as offendability? I am offended that people can just invent words as they like these days. I blame it on social media. We should ban all such opportunities to portray and broadcast one's reasons to be offended. These are not only puerile but they also encourage other fatheads who were not remotely offended to now join in and be equally offended even though they do not know or understand what they are meant to be offended about.

Once you broadcast the reason for your offence on social media, the chances are others will either join in and get offended just like you, or will start an argument publicly decrying the fact that you are offended. Either way, the outcome is not good. They should follow my great grand-mother's example and sit on a cactus and keep their offence to themselves.

I get greatly offended when Christianity is mocked an TV by so-called comedians and public influencers. If I were to write in to the TV companies the chances are I would be ignored, or probably sent a mealy-mouthed reply trying to pacify me.

I am even more offended that the Church, (all denominations), is/are not more vocal about this. They just turn a blind eye and ignore the insults to Christianity.

But then I remember. God can take our mockery, our insults and our anger. After all He took them all when hanging there on the Cross, did He not?

No doubt He will ask our Church leaders when He meets them face to face why they were ashamed of Him when He was mocked and insulted so.

What does offend you these days? Tell us about it. I promise not to be offended by it.

Reminiscences of a priest

 

Father Ignatius put the phone down and settled in the armchair near the fireplace. It was a cold winter evening so he warmed his hands by the fire then picked up his cup of cocoa and took a sip or two. There was nothing to capture his interest on television, so after watching the usual dismal news he switched it off and turned his thoughts to the phone call.

It had been some months since he last spoke to his great friend Monsignor Thomas. They had trained together for the priesthood in Rome many years ago, and he hadn’t seen the Monsignor for some time now. As usual, Monsignor Thomas ended the telephone conversation by saying: “Dominus vobiscum” and Father Ignatius replied, “Et cum spiritu tuo”.

The Latin words reverberated in his mind. It’s such a long time since he celebrated Mass in Latin he thought.

“Yet there was a time when all Masses were said in Latin,” thought the priest as he put down his cup of cocoa.

His mind wandered to his youth, as a young priest, and how different life was back then. In those days sermons were different too, he thought. “There was more meat to them,” he mumbled to himself.

“We were not afraid to say things the way they were; and still are now. We warned our flock of the dangers of sin, and an eternity in hell. We told them what was right and what was wrong …”

He remembered a particular sermon where he spoke against trying to contact spirits and visiting so-called mediums.

Now sermons seem to have been toned down for fear of up-setting the congregation.

“We have to be politically correct,” he said to himself.

He realised that things change over the years, and change is sometimes inevitable. But it isn’t always for the better, he argued with himself.

“Back then,” he thought, “people used to fast for twelve hours before taking Holy Communion. They used to genuflect at the Altar rail and take the Host on the tongue. None of this queuing up the center aisle and holding the Host in your hand business as we do now.”

His sighed quietly as he recalled other changes which befell the Catholic Church over the years. People used to kneel as they entered the church or took their place in the pews. Women had their heads covered; either with a hat or a scarf.

He brought to mind an incident last summer when a young lady attempted to enter the church for Sunday Mass dressed in a bikini top and short pants. He happened to be at the entrance of the church and he stopped her.

“You must let me in,” she protested, “I have a perfect right!”

“Madam,” Father Ignatius replied in his stern voice, “you have a perfect left too, but you’re not coming in dressed like that!”

He smiled at the way he handled the situation and was awakened from his reveries by Father Donald entering the room.

“What’s on TV?” asked Father Donald in his broad Scottish accent.

“Only dust …” replied Ignatius still smiling.

“I like it,” said Father Donald laughing, “I’ll tell the housekeeper in the morning. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your joke!!!”