The Fear That Grips Us All

Fear is a natural emotion. We all experience fear at one time or another in our lives. Fear can be a good thing at times because it  stops us from taking un-necessary risks. From being reckless and un-thoughtful in what you do.

But there are times when fear itself breeds more fear and grips us to the extent of ruling our lives.

Few of us are really immune to it.

The fear of losing our job and not being able to provide for our families. The fear of missing payments on our mortgage and losing our house. The fear of failure and being unable to work again. The fear of our very lives crumbling in front of our eyes.

The fear of a marriage breakdown. Infidelity. Divorce and its many heartaches. The tearing apart of a family. How it affects one's children. Separation. Costs. Access to children. Being no longer a part of their lives. The feeling of failure and betrayal.

The fear of growing old. Being alone. Especially at night. Forgotten with only one's memories for comfort. The fear of being unable to cope any more. The fear of losing control as others decide for you what is best. The fear that everyone you relied upon is now no longer there.

The fear of being ill. With no prospects of getting better. Relying on others and perhaps being a burden on family and friends. The fear of incapacity. The fear of being unable to make any decisions. The fear of being unable to afford treatment. The fear of un-ending pain.

The fear for others. Children. Grand-children. Other relatives or friends. How they are coping. How will they cope. The fear of the future and what it might bring. In an ever changing world, the very fear of opening a newspaper or seeing the news that something or other has happened that will adversely affect you or your loved ones.

Few of us can claim not to have experienced the real darkness of fear as it grips our minds, our imaginations and indeed our realities.

Because all these fears outlined above, and others besides not mentioned here, have actually happened to others and can very well happen to us.

One day we are living our lives happily and the next ... a quick change in circumstances can easily propel us into any of the fearful scenarios described above.

Christ taught us not to be afraid. That our God loves us. He cares for us. He will not let us perish. He is always by our side.

Yet ... these fearful events are real and have happened to others, those who love and obey God, and those who don't; and can so easily happen to us. So we feel, perhaps, that our fears are justified.

Until we consider, for a moment or two, how God feels about our so-called justified fears.

Isn't our fear, justified as it might be, a sign that we don't truly trust Him? A real profession of faith that, when it comes down to it, we don't really trust Him? Somehow, somewhere, in the back of our minds, we harbour that doubt, that worry, that when things will go bad for us, as they will inevitably be for some of us, we don't really trust Him enough to be by our side in our moment of need.

Now how do you think God feels about your lack of trust in Him?

We may not be able to help these fears when they attack our minds, perhaps sub-consciously, but we can fight against them with prayer. Real prayer. Through gritted teeth even. Admitting to God that we are fearful and yet, trying, through every fibre of our being to trust in Him, in His love and in His caring.

Fear will try to grip us all. It is how we handle it that is our salvation. And with His grace and help we will succeed.

FATHER FRANCIS MAPLE

The Sign of the Cross

When I was in hospital recently to have my sense of humour checked I saw something I'd not seen since I was a child.

They have a chapel in hospital. The door to the chapel is an ordinary door, like all the others in a long hospital corridor. It says on it "Chapel" as opposed to "X Ray" or "Pharmacy" or whatever else is posted on the other doors.

I noticed that several people whilst passing by this door did the sign of the Cross. A few opened the door and looked in for 5 or 10 seconds, did the sign of the Cross, and then continued on their way.

Now this is something I've not seen for many years when, as a child, we were taught to do the sign of the Cross whenever we passed a Church. I certainly did not expect to see it in secular Britain. 

Years ago, when Catholic churches used to ring the Angelus bells three times a day, people used to make the Sign of the Cross. Also, if in the street a funeral hearse passes by they would make the Sign of the Cross; and men would take their hats off. But I've never seen this happen in the UK.

I wonder whether this sign of respect is prevalent elsewhere. For example, do people make the Sign of the Cross before meals when they are at a restaurant or in public? Or say grace even?

I remember when young, on Ash Wednesday, some people used to go to work with ash on their forehead having been to Mass first. Not seen this in public for some time nowadays.

Times are changing. People don't want to publicise the fact that they are Christians any more.

Silent Prayer

In a Catholic Church, when we celebrate Mass, just before the Gospel is read, the congregation makes a small Sign of the Cross on their forehead, on their lips, and on their breast.

What's all that about?

In fact, it is a silent prayer all by itself.

The Sign of the Cross on one's forehead reminds us that the word of God should always be in the forefront of our minds. No matter what we do throughout life, it should always be in accordance to God's wishes and God's Commandments. By keeping God always on our mind we ensure that we're always close to Him and that we're less likely to go against His will.

The Sign on our lips means that we pray that we're always prepared to witness for God when the right time requires it. Many people often shy away from speaking up for God in conversation with family and friends, especially when He is ridiculed or spoken against. People tend to keep quiet for fear of offending others, or for fear of being ridiculed themselves. Instead, our lips can often be used to gossip, malign others, to spread rumours, lies and ill will. The Sign on our lips is a prayer that our lips are always used to glorify and serve God in all that we say.

The Sign on our breast is a prayer that God may always be within our heart and that we may grow to love Him and never stray from His love. Hearts can often hide grudges, hatred, revenge, envy, and all sorts of other sins. Signing the Cross on our heart is a prayer that we may be always pure and receptive to God's love and grace. 

The Sign of the Cross on our forehead, lips and hearts. A silent prayer all in itself.

Are You Listening?

Let us have a serious discussion with each other. Tell me what is on your heart and mind. Be honest. Disagree with me if you think I am wrong. Let me know your views.

In Olden Tymes God spoke to people and they heard Him clearly it seems. The early prophets heard God and wrote all the predictions about Jesus centuries before they happened.

Did you know there are more than 300 prophesies about Jesus in the Old Testament that He fulfilled in His life. Some prophesies He had no personal control over - like where He would be born, the manner of His death and suffering, where He would be buried. The fact that on His Death the Romans would not break His legs as they did to the other two crucified with Him. The fact that the Roman soldiers would divide His clothes amongst themselves and gamble for His robe whilst He hung from the Cross.

God also spoke clearly to individuals like Abraham for instance. He told him to sacrifice his son.

Now Abraham must have heard that command clearly, otherwise he would not have made all the preparations and went up the mountain with his son. Had this story happened in today's modern times no doubt the Child Protection people and the police would be involved and Abraham would land in jail or a mental institution.

God also spoke to Moses. He told him to get the Jews out of Egypt and take them to the promised land. He showed him how to provide food and water for the Jews. He told him how to separate the Red Sea so they could cross safely. He gave him the Ten Commandments.

Now imagine this. Moses goes up the mountain carrying nothing. He comes down again with two stone tablets on which the Commandments have been carved.

In order to do this he must have heard a voice clearly telling him what to write. He must have carved the stone tablets himself, or had a sculptor there waiting for him. Unless the stones were already there ready in-scripted with the Commandments. By the way, where are these tablets now? In some museum somewhere?

Anyway ... that is not the subject of the discussion we hope we have.

What I was wondering is: Does God speak to us now? Today? To people like you and me?

Does He speak with a voice like the one heard by the prophets, Abraham, Moses, the Disciples when they went up the mountain with Jesus at the Transfiguration, or as heard in Christ's Baptism?

Or does He speak silently in our hearts?

If the latter; how do we know it is God speaking and not our wishes and desires bringing forth in our minds what we would like to happen, or what we would like to do?

I know some of my readers have heard the voice of God in their hearts which has led them to do certain things. How were these readers certain it was God speaking to them? Please share your experiences with us.

I am certain that in today's cynical world if anyone said they heard God in a clear voice they would not be taken seriously and would be considered mentally unstable in some way.

That's probably why God does not speak in the same way as Olden Tymes. That is probably why He does not send angels like He did to Mary, Joseph and the shepherds to deliver His messages. He probably wants to spare us the accusations and finger pointing by today's society if we said we heard God clearly, or saw a vision of Him, or of Christ.

He probably speaks to us in our hearts, or in dreams. But how do we know it is Him and not the devil playing tricks with us?

Share your views and experiences.

Time For Reflections

A short radio tape with a message that may be of help to someone. Six minutes long.

Can women multi-task like pigeons?

It has long been held as a theory that women can multi-task better than men. Apparently, men cannot do two things at the same time, like walking and chewing gum, for instance. Whereas women can do two or more things at the same time quite easily.

Now I am not sure whether this is true, but I have often been in situations where a woman is sitting beside me reading the road map and at the same time telling me that I am driving too fast, too close to the car in front and to watch out for that cyclist. So it is true, I suppose, that women can read maps and check my driving at the same time.

However, there is now a new thoery by some research professors that we humans, when we attempt to multi-task, we are liable to make more mistakes than a pigeon.

Why is it, I ask myself, that there are so many scientists and professors wasting so much time researching things that are of no value at all to life as we know it. Why compare our ability to make mistakes to that of a pigeon and not, for instance, a fish or a blindfolded skunk wondering where the bad smell is coming from?

Anyway, as it happens some scientists have discovered that we make more mistakes than pigeons. For instance, if we were writing an e-mail or typing on a computer and someone speaks to us and we engage in conversation we are more liable, than not, to make mistakes in what we are typing.

In comparison, a pigeon could be on the ground foraging for food or gathering small twigs to make a nest yet at the same time he, or she, is able to keep watch for any predators and listen to any sounds which might spell danger, like a cat lurking in the grass.

Scientists admit, however, that pigeons are unable to send e-mails or texts and engage in conversation or cooing at the same time. Thus proving that their research was not only a waste of their time but that of the pigeons as well. After hours of having several pigeons sitting on keyboards the scientists had nothing to show for it other than keyboards covered with pigeon droppings ingrained in between the keys.

They released the pigeons in the wild before releasing their news releases proclaiming their discoveries.

Which goes to prove that we should never under-estimate the intelligence of a pigeon. They all agreed not to type one word with the keyboard but to make a more obvious statement instead.

So surreal I didn't believe it

A strange thing happened the other day. So strange that I guess you will not believe a word I tell you. In fact I can hardly believe it myself. But I have to tell someone in the hope that some body will believe me.

The door bell rang and there, standing on his hind legs, was a crocodile. I said you won't believe it; but it's true. Standing some seven feet tall, taller than me, was a crocodile.

I was at a loss for words. I usually am when I don't have my dictionary with me. I had left it in the living room open at the page where it explains what onomatopoeia is.

I bet you don't know what  onomatopoeia is. It is the process of creating a word that phonetically imitates, resembles, or suggests the sound that it describes. For example words such as "oink", "meow", "roar" and "chirp". But since this was a crocodile and not a pig, cat, lion or bird, it did not do any of these onomatopoeic sounds.

It just stood there and said, "I've failed again and all is lost!"

Well, that got me confused and flabbergasted at the same time. I can't remember which came first. A talking crocodile indeed. Reminded me of that talking snake in the Bible. The first ever consultant in the world. I could have fallen to the ground with a crash; and no doubt created another onomatopoeic word.

But I didn't. I was angry so I stood my ground. I was not so much angry at having been interrupted by a talking crocodile but more so because I had minutes previously swallowed a piece from my favourite 1000 pieces jigsaw puzzle. The jigsaw portrayed the scene from The Death of Sardanapalus, oil on canvas, by Ferdinand Victor Eugène Delacroix. Do you know it? If not, look it up.

Anyway, as I was saying, before my vanity enticed me to portray my intellect. I had just swallowed a piece of my jigsaw puzzle and that made me angry. I was busily making the puzzle whilst having breakfast and a piece fell into my corn flakes bowl and I inadvertently ate it. And it was central to the whole scene too; as you'll testify if you'd bother to look the painting up.

So an unexpected visit by a talking crocodile put the icing on the cake as it were. Metaphorically speaking, that is. Look up the meaning of metaphor yourself; I'm too busy telling this story.

Before I could say anything, the crocodile at my doorstep started to cry. I could tell straight away they were crocodile tears.

"Snap out of it!" I said. Which is an unfortunate turn of phrase to use to a crocodile. "Snap out of it ... you have interrupted my breakfast consisting of corn flakes, warm milk, a little sugar and bits of card board essential to a complicated amusing pastime consisting of formulating a nice picture by joining together the said pieces of cardboard!"

He wasn't listening. He mumbled incoherently that he was due to attend a fancy dress party the night before, where he intended to propose to his girl-friend, who incidentally was attending as a KFC chicken leg.

But he got lost and ran out of petrol just opposite my house. As he got out of the car to ask me for help, he trod on his long tail, fell forward, knocking his head on the ground where he stayed unconscious all night. 

This morning he regained consciousness, and the first thing he did was to turn his car radio on to check what time it was. On the news it was reported that there was a crocodile loose in our area, so he quickly ran to my house in case said crocodile would attack him and kill him. Something he feared his girlfriend might also do thinking that he had stood her up at the party.

Well, with a tall tale like this ... I mean an unbelievable story, not a tall tail which the crocodile certainly had ... please stop interrupting me ... as I was saying; what could I do?

I let him in. He phoned his girlfriend. And an hour later a KFC chicken leg came to his rescue.

Have you ever seen a crocodile kiss a KFC chicken leg?

God's Timing

Father Ignatius' office was on the top floor of Parish House, on the grounds of St Vincent Church high on the hill. From his office window he could see the whole town spreading down the hill beneath him. He looked thoughtfully at all the terraced houses and tenements huddling close together to keep warm and safe from the cold winter drawing near, and the early dark afternoons so typical in Northern England from September onwards. The freezing mist combined with the acrid smoke from many coal burning fireplaces to form a smog which enveloped the town hiding in misery and poverty.

His thoughts turned to the many people living rough under bridges and in parks because they had nowhere to stay. And the number of children going to bed hungry because there was simply nothing in the larder to eat. Business closures and unemployment had hit this town harder than most and it seems that Northern England is often forgotten when the economy takes a turn for the worst.

He brought to mind the number of parishioners from St Vincent who lived in poverty and considered what else he could do to help them further. As it is, most of the meagre funds he received from the Sunday collections was spent on helping the poor and old in the Parish; and several urgent maintenance jobs in the church and Parish House had been ignored because he believed helping his flock came first.

He looked at his watch and then at the clock on the wall by his desk. He was due to attend a meeting in town to discuss with the Local Authorities officials and representatives from other church denominations in town what they could collectively do to help those sleeping outdoors in winter.

He put all his papers in his briefcase and was about to go when something made him stop. He could not explain what it was. He knew that he should leave now if he were to get to the meeting on time, but somehow he felt that he should stay a while.

He sat at his desk and looked at the large Crucifix hanging on the wall in front of him. He looked at the clock again. It was time to leave, yet he felt he should stay a while longer. He said a silent prayer and asked for guidance. Ten minutes or so later he felt at ease. A soothing calmness came over him and he felt it was now time to go to his meeting.

He got in his car and drove the usual route to town. About half a mile down the hill he saw the blue flashing lights from a parked police car and an ambulance.

The police stopped him. He got out of the car and asked the policeman if he could help in any way and explained that he was a priest. The policeman walked him further on towards what appeared to be a car accident.

There on the ground was a little girl who had been hit by the car. She was not seriously injured but was lying on the ground and attended to by the ambulance men. She was crying and asking for Father Ignatius by name.

He approached her. She was the daughter of one of his parishioners and he knew her and her family well. She recognised him immediately and crying her heart out asked him to call her mom to come to her help.

Moments later, comforted by the priest, she was taken to hospital, whilst Father Ignatius drove to the mother's place of work and took her to hospital to be re-united with her daughter.

On his way to the scheduled meeting, much later that evening, Father Ignatius understood why he was detained at this office by the unexplained feeling to wait. Had he left on time he would have driven the same route and missed the accident altogether. He was destined to be late and to come to the little girl's help.

This story is based on real facts. A priest I know well was detained by an unexplained feeling in his office and when he eventually left for a meeting he found a young girl from his congregation involved in an accident and asking for him by name to get her mother to her.

Mathematics Made Measly

I know Mathematics is a subject many people find difficult to understand. Well - no more.

In this easy lesson I will try to explain the basics of mathematics and you'll be able to astound and amaze all your friends at parties, at business conferences, church prayer group meetings and other gatherings like funerals or divorce proceedings in Court.

For example:

PERCENTAGES - Did you know that 9 out of every 6 people do not understand percentages. That's almost half or 50%. See; it's simple. There's 100 in a whole percentage so half is 50%.

PYTHAGORAS -

 

He was a famous Greek mathematician amongst other things. He taught that the square on the hippopotamus is equal to the sum of two other squares somewhere else. See the diagram above. Once you've understood it, just forget it because it has no valuable purpose in life. 

PROBABILITY - This means the chance of something happening. Again, I refer you to the diagram above. Did you know that there is more of a chance or probability of a person being killed by a hippopotamus than being killed by a shark. This is because there are no sharks in sub-Saharan Africa where the hippopotamus lives. So the likelihood, or probability, of a shark jumping out from behind a bush in Africa and biting your leg is nil or zero. That is unless you take a shark with you there and he gets annoyed that you've stuffed him in your luggage. 

DISTANCE - This one is simple. It is the measurement between one object and another and it can be measured by different means depending on which country you are in. Some measure in kilometres. Others measure in miles. Or if at sea they measure in knots for no particular reason other than to confuse landlubbers. The principle is simple. If something is far away it is small. Which explains the dilemma as to whether Napoleon was small or far away; or perhaps both. Also, as something approaches you it grows bigger. I once saw a small toy piano fall from a skyscraper. Eventually it grew bigger and hit me.

TEMPERATURE - This is the same as distance with some people measuring in Degrees Centigrade whilst others prefer Fahrenheit. The Centigrade scale is easier because it starts at 0, when water is frozen, and goes up to 100, when water boils. But did you also know there is Absolute Zero? This is the lowest possible temperature you can ever get to? You just cannot get any lower than Absolute Zero.

It is in fact -273.15° on the Celsius (Centigrade) scale and −459.67° on the Fahrenheit scale. It is over 100 kilos on the bathroom scale if you have been over-eating lately. So if you avoid weighing yourself you'll be OK.

At Absolute Zero nothing really happens. The buses will not run so it is pointless waiting for them at the bus stop. And don’t even be tempted to lick the bus stop sign whilst you're there because there may be all sort of germs on it.

Absolute Zero is also what most men get from their wives when they've said something that upsets them.

TIME - This is the simplest thing to learn. The clock has numbers written on it in a circular fashion from 1 to 12. Simple. When the big hand is on Number 1 it means five minutes, when it is on 2 it is ten minutes, when on 3 it is a quarter past, when on 6 it is half past, and when on 9 it is a quarter to. Could not be simpler. When the big hand is on 12 it is another hour. So instead of 1 it is 2, or instead of 2 it is 3 and so on up to 12 hours. Unless you have a 24 hours clock when you get 13 hours, or 14 hours and so on. Some prefer to read 12 hours in the daylight as noon; and 12 hours in the dark as midnight. Whilst others are asleep at this time and don't care anyway. 

People in Northern areas of the world cannot count noon and midnight because it is always dark in there. Their hours of daylight are only an hour or so. As soon as they get up it is time to go to bed again. They get out of bed, prepare breakfast made of eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, perhaps with some muesli and strong coffee; then they go back to sleep without eating it.

VOLUME - This is the measure of how much is inside something. A fat person, for instance, has much more inside them than a thinner person. Let's imagine the inside of something as a cup or glass. A glass is better because you can see through it. It is transparent; unless you have not washed it for a while in which case it says more about you than about the glass. 

So, looking at a glass we need to consider its volume. What is inside it. Is it half full or half empty? Personally I don't care for either as long as it does not leave a stain on the table. One way of avoiding this is by sticking a table mat on the bottom. That's the bottom of the glass, not your own bottom. Unless you wish to sit on the table naked in which case you should stick the table mats on your bottom. Don't forget to invite me, or send me photos, if you intend doing so.

ALGEBRA - This is a difficult and confusing area of mathematics and I would not blame you if you ignore it. It combines numbers with letters like: 2a +3 b = 5x - y

Let's be honest; how often did you go to the supermarket and say, "if 3 cans of beer and 2 bottles of wine cost $23.75 then how much would 4 containers of dish washing liquid cost? The answer is, "who cares?" Besides, if you were to consume the washing liquid instead of the drinks it would taste awful and you would poop soap bubbles for a week. I've tried it!

GEOMETRY - Another waste of time when it comes to mathematics. This is the study of shapes like cute triangles and obtuse ones who cannot even spell acute. But it is not just triangles which will confuse your head; there are also squares, rectangles, parallelograms, polygons (dead parrots), and circles. Personally, the shapes I like are hourglass figures which come in many sizes of course. Small, Medium or Rubenesque.

And the same applies for men's figures of course.

GPS Lady

There I was driving on the highway and listening … no, obeying, every word that the GPS Satellite Navigation System lady is telling me.

Turn left, go right, keep straight ahead … and so on.

To be honest, she was doing pretty good and was not reading the map upside down as happens when I have a certain person next to me guiding the way. Not once did the GPS lady say “you should have taken the left turn we just passed” half a mile after we passed it. And she never told me to watch out for that cyclist, and I’m too near the parked cars, or that I was going too fast in a built-up area.

I was very impressed with the soft spoken GPS lady, especially since she never shouted that I don’t listen and where did I ever learn to drive.

But she did something very strange.

She suddenly said, “I’m going for a comfort break”.

“Hein?” I thought.

Then there was a lot of chatting in the background. A number of female voices talking about all sort of things. They talked about knitting patterns and the price of wool, then they talked about cooking and the best way to make pizza dough, and after that they started gossiping about various TV programs and celebrities.

It was obvious that the GPS lady had abandoned me and left her microphone on; and I was listening to her colleagues chatting amongst themselves in between calls and giving directions to their vehicle drivers.

I continued driving since you’re not allowed to stop on the highway and I prayed and hoped as every mile went by that she’d soon return from her comfort break and direct me to my destination.

I slowed down a little to give her time to get ready, wash her hands, that sort of thing, and return to me.

As the miles went by on my dashboard meter there was no sign of my GPS lady and plenty of signs of my nervous tension reaching new heights.

Then I saw that the highway was splitting into two some miles ahead. I read the notices above the highway saying that to the left you go somewhere or other, and to the right you go somewhere or other totally different.

But which way is my way? I knew where I wanted to reach my destination but did not know how to get there. If I took either of the two roads ahead I could well end up miles from where I wanted to go. I had a pressing meeting to attend and I could not afford to get there late.

I decided to get off the highway and stop at the safest place possible. I got out of the car and searched for an old map book I knew I had. If modern technology gave up on me I’ll get back to the old and tested technology.

A few minutes later a police car drew up and stopped behind me. Two huge policemen in high visibility jackets came out and approached me.

“What seems to be the problem Sir?” asked one of them, “has your car broken down?”

“No … the car’s OK,” I replied hesitantly, “It’s my GPS lady …”

“GPS lady? You mean the announcer on your system. What’s the matter with her?”

“She’s gone for a comfort break!”

“What?” asked the incredulous policeman.

“The GPS lady directing me to my destination said she needed the toilet about half an hour ago and she hasn’t come back!”

Try as I might I could not convince the two policemen what had happened. They suspected I’d been drinking and asked that I take a breathalyzer test there and then to check the level of alcohol in my system, followed by urine and blood tests at the police station.

I protested and they threatened to arrest me. I took the breathalyzer test which of course was negative. I was as sober as a judge who’d lost his GPS lady.

Then it occurred to me to tell them that she left her microphone open and I could hear her colleagues chatting about cooking and knitting.

They approached the vehicle and opened the door. Mercifully, her colleagues were still chatting away. This time they were talking about ballroom dancing.

“Sir,” said the second policeman in a stern face which he could hardly keep straight, “this is Women’s World on the radio. You must have inadvertently turned off the GPS system!”

They let me off with a warning to be more careful, and went away to write their report.

My GPS lady guided me to my destination, albeit somewhat late.

Beware of Hypnotists without watches

After that last scary experience at the hypnotist I began to have nightmares about hypnotists. I dreamt of hypnotists everywhere riding hippopotamuses or hippoppotami ... or whatever is the plural of hippopotamus. As long as they looked like hypnotists I got scared out of my life regardless of what they were riding in my nightmares or night horses. Every word with hip in it kept recurring in my dreams and made me fear hypnotising hippopotamuses sitting on my hips even more.

In order to cure my fear of hypnotists I went to see a hypnotist and asked him to cure me. He said, "What are you afraid of?"

I replied, "I'm afraid of being put to sleep by hypnotists like you!"

He said, "But in order to cure you I have to put you to sleep, are you not scared of that?"

I replied, "Of course I am. But my fear of being put to sleep by a hypnotist is far outweighed by my fear of you putting me to sleep to cure my fear of being put to sleep by a hypnotist."

(I had to read this sentence twice before uttering it to the hypnotist).

I asked him, "Can you not put me to sleep whilst I am awake, and cure me then?"

He said, he'll put me half to sleep so that whilst I'm asleep I am not really asleep and he'll be able to cure my fear of hypnotists putting me to sleep because I am not asleep really.

(So I read the above sentence twice as well to understand what he was on about).

He then took out his pocket watch and started swinging it from left to right in front of my eyes saying, "you're getting sleepy ... no you're not ... yes you are ... no you're not ..."

He had such a boring voice that I must have soon dozed off. When he woke me up he suddenly said, "BOOOOH!!!!"

I did not flinch a muscle.

"There you are," he said, "you're cured. You did not jump when I scared you! Now give me my watch back!"

"What?" I asked totally surprised.

"You stole my watch," he accused me, "whilst you were asleep you stole my watch!"

"No I didn't ..." I protested.

"Yes you did," he insisted, "it's in your jacket pocket!"

I looked in my pocket and to my surprise there was his watch. I was confused. How did this happen? I didn't recall stealing his watch. I apologised and returned it.

He said, "you stole my pen too ... it's in your other pocket!"

And true enough there it was. I got really worried and gave him his pen back. Somehow, whilst I was hypnotised I seem to have developed another habit of stealing things from people. But only when I'm asleep.

"You also tried to steal my desk," he said, "only you could not fit it in your pocket! But I bet you have my wardrobe and swivel chair in there."

"I'm ... I'm sorry ..." I mumbled totally confused, "I do not have your desk in my pocket".

(There's a sentence I never thought I would utter. Is there a sentence you never thought you would utter? Get hypnotised and find out).

The hypnotist was relentless. He continued, "You also told me in your sleep ... half-sleep ... that you are a kleptomaniac, and that you're taking something for it ... my desk and couch not doubt ... only they did not fit in your pocket."

By then I was totally concerned as well as being totally confused. I became more afraid of hypnotists than when I was at first when I came in with a fear of hypnotists and wanting to be cured of that very fear of hypnotists. Then I was afraid of hypnotists putting me to sleep, now I am afraid of hypnotists putting me sleep and accusing me of stealing their furniture amongst other things.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified ... hold on, I'm sure I have used this joke before in my writings. But then, you can't beat the old ones can you? They don't write them like that any more. At least I don't!

The man then said, "You've also stolen my underwear which you're wearing right now. Give them back!"

I got up from the couch and ran out of the window. Pity it was three floors up; but I kept running.

When I got home I checked it was my underwear I was wearing ... which thankfully it was. But I also found in my pocket a KFC chicken leg which did not belong to me. It belonged to the chicken, or the KFC shop, or perhaps the hypnotist. I remembered that week I had gone to the burger bar, so if anything I expected to find a half-eaten bun instead. How did the chicken leg get there?

How about you? Have you ever been accused of stealing a hypnotist's underwear? And did you?

There's a cure for it, you know!

William Shakespeare - Bard or Beard?

Settle down now, and pay attention. Today's History Lesson is about a famous Elizabethan who lived between 1564 and 1616 by the name of William Shakespeare. It is not known what other name he had outside of this period, but to many he was also known as the "Beard of Avon", because he was born in Stratford-upon-Avon in England and because he had a beard. But then, most people at the time had beards and they were not called the "Beard of London", "the Beard of Nottingham", or wherever else they came from.

Shakespeare's life is full of controversy and it is fair to say that here in Britain he is the most talked about subject of conversation and debate apart from the weather. That is, if you have nothing else to talk about apart from Shakespeare and the weather.

I remember I was on the bus recently and I commented about the latest headline in the newspaper. Apparently, a prison van full of prisoners collided with a lorry full of mixed concrete. The police were looking for some hardened criminals.

The bus driver said if I had nothing to say about Shakespeare or the weather I should get off the bus.

You see, some people here in the UK like to discuss science, medicine, politics, religion, saving the planet, conservation, re-cycling and numerous other subjects, but these subjects are not considered as important as Shakespeare and the weather.

So since it's raining outside, and it is so cold that when I open the faucet I get ice cubes, I hall talk about Shakespeare.

One of the greatest controversies about Shakespeare is whether he actually wrote the 30 or so plays, sonnets and such like writings or not. The fact that they have been written is not in dispute; but their authorship is.

Can you imagine being the author of all these writings and be forever praised and lauded by everyone?

"To be or not to be?" to quote Francis Bacon, Christopher Marlowe or Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford.

So let's consider this controversy further for a moment and see what we know about old Bill the Beard.

He was an actor who went to London and made a small fortune in the theatre, and also by purchasing properties (theatres amongst others) which made him very rich. He returned to Stratford-upon-Avon and bought a large house and his fame spread.

Now then ... since no one actually saw him sitting at his computer late at night typing away furiously his many plays; it is safe to suggest that perhaps ... maybe ... there's a possibility ... that he was only the financial backing behind all these plays. He was a rich man, owned many theatres, and it is possible that he put on plays as a business; very much like a modern day producer puts on plays, or makes films or produces music records and CDs these days. It doesn't follow that today's producers write the plays or sing the songs on record; does it?

In time, Shakespeare's fame and plays became synonymous to saying "hoover" when we mean a vacuum cleaner, or "thermos" when we mean a vacuum flask. People went to see "Shakespeare plays" - that is plays produced and financially backed, but not written, by him.

Do you think my theory is feasible? Is it possible that he did not write all these plays and was merely the financial backing behind their production?

Does it matter what I think? Does it matter whether he wrote them or not? Does anything matter? Personally I think it was Francis Bacon whop wrote these plays; and I base my theory on the fact that I like a bacon sandwich write now. Better than having a Shakespeare sandwich, whatever that is. Probably full of hair considering the length of his beard.

Now, where was I before I got distracted by bacon? ah ... sausages ... I like sausages too ... in a sandwich that is. Or by themselves ... whatever ...

Anyway, back to the controversy about the authorship of these writings, one thing is for sure and certainly un-disputed.

For years on thereafter, whether Shakespeare wrote this claptrap or not, many generations of pupils have been forced to learn these plays and sonnets by heart for no apparent reason whatsoever, since they serve no purpose in gaining you subsequent employment or career as a waiter in a restaurant or serving coffee in a coffee bar. Let's face it, when is the last time a waiter asked you in a restaurant whether you wanted "to pee or not to pee"?

The only reason people study Shakespeare is to become a teacher and force another generation of students to study the same.

I remember as a child having to memorise several of the Beard's writings. The one that comes to mind with dread is from the play Antony and Cleopatra when Antony's lieutenant Enobarbus, once described Cleopatra's charms by saying: "Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies."

Which loosely translated in modern English means, "She is a good looker, what? Makes my monocle steam up, by Jove. Would love sharing a pot of tea with her, I'd say. She makes my knees tremble at the thought!"

I remember my teacher saying I should remember these lines by heart and quote them in the exams as it would comfort the examiner and make him more liable to award me good marks.

Of course, as a child, I did not know what they meant; but I memorised these words and repeated them over and again in my mind.

Unfortunately, a few days later our history teacher was late because his mother had died that very morning. To comfort him I blurted, "Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety."

I got expelled for three days from school as a result. For some reason, I also failed my history exams that year.

And there you have it ... William Shakespeare ... the Beard of Stratford-upon-Avon ... writer ... perhaps ... dreaded memory of my past ... certainly.

Torn ... between two lovers

My life is full of dilemmas and decisions these days. I am getting all confused.

The other day I got thrown out of the supermarket. It was not my fault really. I did nothing wrong. But you be the judge of that and tell me what you think.

As I may have mentioned before, I like peanut butter. I spread it on toast and then carefully place currants or raisins in straight rows like soldiers on parade all over the slice of bread. Cover it with another slice - delicious. You should try it sometimes.

There I was at the supermarket and I could not decide whether to buy crunchy peanut butter or the smooth one. I like both; but always tend to buy the crunchy. I wanted to try smooth for a change. But it was difficult to make a decision. I stood there hesitant. Picking one jar and then the other and then ... out of the blue ...

I started singing that familiar Mary MacGregor song at the top of my voice:

There are times when a man has to say what's on his mind
Even though he knows how much it's gonna hurt
Before I say another word, let me tell you, I love you
Let me hold you close and say these words as gently as I can ...

I love crunchy peanut butter and have done so for a time
But that doesn't mean I love you less

Although the taste is similar and you are both the best

There's this empty place in my tummy that crunchy can only fill ...

Torn between two lovers, feelin' like a fool

Lovin' both of you is breakin' all the rules
Torn between two lovers, feelin' like a fool
Lovin' you both is breakin' all the rules ...

At this point the manager and a number of staff gathered around me and told me to stop singing. They said I was disturbing the other customers with my "bellowing" and frightening all the kids. Dogs are howling outside in the car park and all the cats have evacuated the area. Birds are falling off the trees in agony.

As I could not stop my impromptu singing the manager gave me a jar of both kinds of peanut butter and threw me out the store.

The Mummy Returns

Phone rings ... I answer ...

Hello! Oh hi darling ... Arrived at the railway station already?

Yes ... the children are spending the night at the Thompson's ... Yes ... I know I was meant to pick you up from the railway station ... I'm sorry you've been waiting so long ... Look darling ... can you not come home on your own?

Well ... there's a bit of a problem over here ... There's a yellow jacket in the hallway ... just by the front door ... it's as huge as an elephant I tell you.

No ... I can't get past it ... It's flying all over the place and buzzing menacingly ... You know how scared I am of them ... especially since that day when there was one with me in the shower ... It tried to get me in the bits ... remember? Then as soon as you came in it beat a retreat.

I am not a wimp ... what if the yellow jacket had stung me in a delicate place?

That's not a nice thing to say ... No of course I'm not naked right now ... why would I be? But I was then in the shower.

Right now I'm in the bedroom ... I daren't get out in case it attacked me as I got in the hallway ...

I know it's getting dark ... and there are no taxis or buses at the railway station ... Can't you just walk home? I'm just too scared to get past the yellow jacket to come and get you ...

Of course you won't get attacked ... no one would dare ... no ... no ... I meant to say no one would attack you because ... because ... look dear ... you know how scared I am of these creatures ...

Yes I know it's getting dark ... just use the torch I got you for your birthday ...

No, I'm not being facetious ... I'll have you know I've been trapped in the bedroom for ages and I want to go to the bathroom and I dare not get out because of the yellow jacket. My legs are crossed over each other to hold it in ... I nearly used that vase your mom gave you for your birthday, then I thought you'd be angry ... probably more angry than if I failed to pick you up from the station ...

No, of course I did not use the vase ... yet. Yes I realise if you walk home you'll have to go through the park ... The chances of you being mugged or attacked are minimal ... In such cases when working out probabilities you have to account for all factors ...

It means that the fact that there's a threatening yellow jacket here is a certainty ... the fact that I am about to wet myself is a more certain probability ... but there's no certainty that someone is waiting to attack you in the park ... so the probability of me being stung or getting wet is much higher than you being attacked ...

I'm not a yellow bellied coward darling ... Of course I love you ... You know I do ... Don't cry ... No I can't run past it with my legs crossed as they are ...

I don't know how it came in ... probably through the open window ... We don't have any wasp spray ... if we did it would not be here in the bedroom would it? What would I want to spray in the bedroom?

I know wasps and flying insects don't get in the house when you're here ... they wouldn't dare ...

I didn't mean a thing by it ... it was just a joke ... darling ... I was joking ... don't hang up ... Darling!!!

Spoon Theology

Once upon a time, a long long time ago, there was a theologian and philosopher who knew a lot about religion having studied it all his life from an early age. Many people from far and wide came to him for advice and always lived according to what he taught them. He was well respected throughout the land.

However, unbeknown to everyone else, this very learned man struggled with a question which troubled his mind for many years. Try as he might, he could not resolve his problem. He searched in many theological books, and books written by philosophers and other great people of the time, and yet he could not find the solution to what irked him. Obviously, he did not want to discuss this with anyone for fear they might think less of him, and ruin his reputation as a man of great knowledge. He was after all the all-knowing sage of his town and district. He could hardly be seen seeking advice from anyone.

Far far away, on a remote mountain beyond the forest, lived a hermit in a cave away from society and civilisation. No one had actually seen the hermit, but word had got round that he existed and lived alone undisturbed by modern society of the day. Many thought the story to be a myth but they believed it all the same because they wanted something to believe in.

The wise theologian decided to visit the hermit on the mountain in secret in hope that he could help him solve his problem. He left his town early one morning and told no one where he was going. He travelled for weeks on foot through the forest and up the montain until one day he found the cave where the old hermit is supposed to live. He approached with trepidation and was somewhat relieved to find a man sitting there on a rock wearing very little and eating berries he had gathered from nearby bushes.

The philosopher greeted the hermit and explained that he had a problem on his mind which he had wrestled with for many years. The hermit nodded and encouraged him to continue.

The philosopher drew from his pocket three identical spoons; all the same size and made exactly the same. One spoon was made of gold, the other made of silver and the last was made of wood. He explained that the spoons were given to him by his grand-father years ago who told him that therein lies the mystery of life.

The philosopher said, "I don't understand the mystery of life. I can see that one spoon is more valuable than the other because of what it is made. So I think the gold one is the most valuable. Then the silver one and then the wooden one. Is that the mystery of life which my grand-father taught me? The value of something?"

The hermit asked the philosopher to close his eyes. The philosopher did so.

The hermit then hit him hard on the forehead with one of the spoons. The philosopher was startled and opened his eyes rubbing his forehead in pain.

"Which spoon did I hit you with?" asked the hermit.

"I don't ****** well know," replied the philosopher, "but it really hurt!"

"Exactly," said the hermit. "This is the mystery of life. We all have the potential to do harm in life. Regardless whether we are very rich and have great value, or whether we are poor and valueless as this wooden spoon. And also, we all have the potential to do good. Some more so than others. Which is what these spoons were made for. To help us eat our soup, regardless whether they are made of gold, silver or wood.

"So, as a theologian, you should know that, regardless of your religion, or what you believe or think you believe, God has put you on this earth to do good not bad.

"Have you understood the mystery, or do I need to hit you again?"

The philosopher got down the mountain much wiser that when he climbed up to see the hermit.