Cyprus

It’s hot. I have been awol for the past week through force of circumstance, and grandchildren. I pass my mornings in the swimming pool with my two grandchildren and another little girl who has adopted me because her own granddad is in the US. It’s interesting to see the differences in the three children’s attitudes. My surrogate granddaughter, Vivi, is a confident swimmer already, at five years old. My granddaughter, Tina, is a determined little devil. When I show her an exercise, she gets her game face on, a determined little grimace and gritted teeth, and really has a go at it. My grandson, George, is definitely not the physical type. Before this week, he was afraid to get water on his face, but patience – and peer pressure from the two girls, especially since he is the oldest of the three children – has brought him to the stage where he can now limbo under a foam floaty thingy on the surface of the pool and he is now almost there with the doggy paddle, only needing a hand under his belly where, at the start of the week, he was clinging on to my arms with the death grip of a drowning man. Continue reading “Cyprus”

A great day out

Yesterday, the Missus and I went to see the production of the Railway Children at the old Eurostar Terminal at Waterloo. Leaving aside the criminality of moving the Eurostar terminal, which should not have happened anyway, and then not re-using the extra platform space at one of the busiest stations in London, the show was really good, and there were hordes of school kids who were enthralled by it. There were even several actors whom I recognised in the cast. The clincher was the fact that they used the real tracks and a real steam engine in the play, although I cannot help thinking that it was being electrically driven, with some special effects steam and smoke.

Afterwards, we went to an Argentinian restaurant in Bermondsey, of all places. As many  of you probably know, Argentinian food consists of large chunks of singed cow with a few veggies around the edges. Scrumptious, especially when washed down with a bottle of a Bonarda,  then followed by a Don Pedro, a mixture of ice-cream, walnuts, chocolate and, last but not least, a large dollop of Scotch!

All in all, a very enjoyable day!

I’ve now developed a headache so I thought I would share!

The case against the notion of historical objectivity is like the case against international law, or international morality; that it does not exist.
Sir Isaiah Berlin

Berlin was a philosopher and a political theorist.

I have a very vague recollection of some of his ideas, but from memory, the most interesting one was his dismissal of the idea that there was only one sort of right answer, or universally “correct” system of ethics.  He was not talking about the physical world we inhabit, which can to some extent be defined by science or mathematics, but rather the inter-reaction of human beings which cannot be determined, or categorised using the same “rules”.

His work was naturally influenced by events at the time; the fight against Communism and Fascism, but one does wonder what he would have made of the present battle of ideologies.

It would also be interesting to see how future historians view these present conflicts, and which ethical values will they use to do so, but I doubt any of us will be around to find out.

Not welcome in church

A young couple wanted to join the church, the priest told them, ‘We have a
special requirement for new member couples. You must abstain from sex for
one whole month.’

The couple agreed, but after two-and-a-half weeks returned to the Church.
When the priest ushered them into his office, the wife was crying and the
husband was obviously very depressed.

‘You are back so soon…Is there a problem?’ the priest inquired.

‘We are terribly ashamed to admit that we did not manage to abstain from sex
for the required month.’ The young man replied sadly

The priest asked him what happened.

‘Well, the first week was difficult… However, we managed to abstain
through sheer willpower. The second week was terrible, but with the use of
prayer, we managed to abstain. However, the third week was unbearable. We
tried cold showers, Prayer, reading from the Bible….anything to keep our
minds off Carnal Thoughts.

One afternoon my wife reached for a can of paint and dropped it. When she
bent over to pick it up, I was overcome with lust and I just had my way with
her right then and there. It was lustful, loud, passionate sex. It lasted
for over an hour and when we were done we were both drenched in sweat,’
admitted the man, shamefacedly.

The priest lowered his head and said sternly, ‘You understand this means you
will not be welcome in our church.’

‘We know.’ said the young man, hanging his head, ‘We’re not welcome at
Homebase, either.’

A cracking time

You know how it is when you come back from having a couple of days away, people are interested. They ask you where you went. If you had a good time.

When I told them we’d been to Weymouth for a surprise weekend, the reaction was generally that of masked disappointment with the subtext “Oh. ..so he only took you to Weymouth..hmm…that’s a bit crap.”

It’s as though they were hoping for Cornwall, or Brittany or Bali. Actually they were really hoping I’d been somewhere they had visited, of which they have fond memories; a cloudless summer, a fabulous beach, maybe a Kirrin Island look-alike that they could swim to at low tide.

Instead of all that, they said “Yeah. I remember going there as a kid with mum and dad, year after year. Have they still got the trampolines?”

They didn’t say “It was wonderful.” or “It was really good.” Their unsaid words indicated there weren’t too many happy memories. Caravan holidays, no doubt. Continue reading “A cracking time”