DNR

Yesterday I awoke full of the joys of spring, the sun was shining and it felt like a holiday feels. Thus there was the desire to begin the day with a fry up. I did feel slightly extravagant as one has become used to associating fry ups with hotels not our kitchen. However, I, as in me fried bacon, sausages and eggs extremely well. Together with a small spattering of chilli ketchup it all went down easily. It was followed by a rather large mug of very fine coffee, extracted to nigh on perfection. I ought to be more modest but there was no one to witness my efforts so I can get away with it.

The lady of the house was in company with the lady of a house round the corner, no doubt sitting in a garden centre, drinking garden centre coffee and eating garden centre cake whilst mulling over the relative merits of Hoover's, washers, cookers and irons or whatever it is they mull over. Useless husbands must get a look in at some point I guess. At least when my friends are about we discuss in some depth and eloquence the really important stuff like the merits of Michelin pilot sport tyres over everything else, should you use skylight filters or UVs and do you need them on every lens but most importantly can you get the best out of 180g vinyl unless the record deck is correctly sprung and damped for it? And, of course we use the opportunity to sing the praises and extol the virtues of our wonderful wives.

In her absence and before the next coffee I phoned a friend after which I had the urge to clean the inside of a windscreen. I found the polish, alas until her return the microfiber cloth recommended on the bottle was hiding in plain sight. Once shown its location and placed in my hand I went out to find that not only was it sunny but it was warm for January. The desire to clean a windscreen evaporated in as long as it took to open the car and stow the roof. We'll be off then, I suggested. Once appropriately attired, handbagged and settled we only had to ensure she had all the right pills and away we went.

Where are we going was the question. The traffic lady informed us that a lovely long and winding road to the west was blocked owing to three vehicles in very close proximity. East, I said.

The coast road is wonderful, it sweeps, it rises and falls and with barren hedgerows gives glimpses unavailable at other times of the year. The river Axe was resplendent as I've never seen it before and had I not been enjoying the drive so much I'd no doubt thought it a photo opportunity. As it was, Lyme beckoned.

On arrival I announced that we'd park up on the sea front where all the other blue badges parked up. So we drove through the town and was about to hang a right through the car park when it was noted that I'd gone out to move the Jazz but had neglected to move the blue badge. The farm shop a few miles on, then. It was a plan which was politely refused when it was pointed out to me that I'd driven past all the road closure signs which for plan A was the right thing to do. Plan B was a different matter.

Plan B. Unreached destination complete with farm shop crab pots.

We turned around, treated the pedestrians of Lyme to a burst of V6 up the hill and came home. It was lovely. Once home I removed the blue badge. I also realised that the time has come to replenish stocks of screenwash. I was permitted to get it on my own and trusted with the cash to do so. It was still a lovely day. It was still relatively warm. I took the motorbike. It needed a run. I loved it. Even a humble 125 single is a pure delight. No matter how exhilarating, no matter how good it makes you feel, no matter how wide the grin it brings some are predisposed to not thinking highly of motorbikes and even less highly of me riding one.

It was mentioned again today when the delightful Helen came to enquire as to my wellbeing and the drugs regime in place. I feel great, sort of, I don't feel like I'm going to die today and I'd like to stay awake until 2301 tomorrow to raise a glass of fizzy stuff, indeed I feel confident that I may. The issue of the motorbike was raised, not by me but it may have precipitated a comment or two but I've forgotten what they were.

It was after that the discussion turned to DNR and a very serious face from Helen. Yup, I said, do not resuscitate is what I want, it's what we want. Life is wonderful. Days like yesterday are fabulous but they will end. Not just for me but for everyone so there's really not much difference it's just that in my case the signs of a long and healthy life went missing a few years ago and whilst yesterdays are bliss they are decreasing in frequency. Which is what makes them so very special.

I think Helen was put at ease with the Q&A because it was then she asked about our faith which we were happy to talk about. The most precious aspect of life is the future, it may not involve motorbikes or even nice cars. It does involve what it is referred to in Christianity as the hope that is within you. It's not  vague hope like I wish but a hope that offers a certainty that life after death is life for real. I've seen bumper stickers that say you only have one life, make the most of it. Fortunately and wonderfully they are wrong. It's good to make the most of it though, and I thank God that we still can .... and do.

Unearthly hours, unearthly thoughts .....

Currently we have high pressure sitting over us. Not just any old high but a high of 1050mb. In January. It won't stay about for long because this is northern Europe and no one likes northern Europe in January. Or February. March maybe.
The thing is at or around 0330 the clear sky and partial moon light the night far better than most grey damp days are lit by what passes for daylight.

There's a Fuji downstairs. I can manage a landing but stairs at 0518? This tablet will have to do.

The other thing is it looks unearthly. Looks so different. It ought to be a privilege to look out at such a vista but in truth I'm sat on the edge of the bed undertaking triage. A wee, a couple of codeine or 10ml Oramorph.

Once immediate needs are taken care of its Oramorph. This hits the pain within 40 mins, all the pain but it also makes my head do stuff. Like think. As I've mentioned before the pain drives me to prayer, I find it takes my mind off me, which, indeed it should. It's not cogent, it's not eloquent but that doesn't matter because it's silent and it follows a different route every time.

I have a map on my laptop with dots on it. Most south of the M4, some North of it and some a long way West and one even more West. I visualise the map and pray for the people who live at the dots. Visual, great, lists are for mathematicians and people cleverer than me. Tonight it's hard to concentrate, the routes are blurred, places indistinct, thoughts imprecise. Thus I find my mind has wandered to a place it often passes but rarely lingers for long before being overtaken with whatever distraction distracts.

Tonight in the clarity of the outside world it looks unearthly and I find myself contemplating the next world, looking forward to it, wondering what it'll be like, I mean really like and I haven't got much of a clue. It'll be real, I'll know people there.

However, none of the speculation is of primary importance. The really important bit is why I'm looking forward to it. It's where God is. Where God is, where God rules and things are done his way is referred to in the bible as his kingdom. The idea of a Trinitarian God isn't an easy one to get your head around, the trinity, but tonight I've spent an hour or two rummaging about in my mind in a very random kind of way but it's been lovely.

I said in an earlier post that I loved my wife unconditionally. She loves me unconditionally, too. Rico Tice explained unconditional love as nothing you could do would make me love you any more and nothing you could do could make me love you any less. That is quite amazing at so many levels because it invokes total security and absolute freedom. However, because the love is unconditional we'd do all we could to ensure that the donor of that love was never hurt, harmed or upset. We'd try to do all we could to ensure their happiness and contentment in us and with us. We'd do all we could to please them all the time. If we could.

Ah, but, I'm me. I fail at so many points and so often but the nature of love unconditional means that excuses are worthless because she's heard them all before but forgiveness is still forthcoming. I fail continually but love doesn't.

Now what if that relationship was perfect? Utterly perfect. Unconditional love perfectly displayed, perfectly executed and demonstrated for eternity? Because that, I think, is the relationship of God the father with God the son. To experience that in its faultless fullest is why I look forward to heaven.

Then there's God the holy spirit.

For the last few weeks my wife has been clearing our loft. She's been getting rid of umpteen tons of stuff that I've kept because it'll come in useful one day. Not only am I running out of days I haven't got the strength to argue my incontrovertible case with her. She hasn't found the box of Cibie Oscars, Bi-Oscars and Super Oscars yet and she won't be able to lift it when she does. She has found the Sachs dampers for a mini, a proper mini and WordPerfect 5.1 on 5 1/4" floppies, DOS 4.4 and subsequent DOS's on 3 1/2" floppies, all variations of Windows from 3.0, and so it goes on. There's even a SCSI Connor tape drive with boxes of tapes. Indispensable in 1992 with IBM OS2 and then Windows NT workstation4 1995 vintage and server 2000.

She also found an exercise book of our daughters from early primary school. In it she writes about her family. Her mum - writes lists and does everything at superspeed, her dad - sits about listening to music. No one knows you as a couple like your kids do and when asked they are totally open and honest. And right. I don't do lists, I do dreckly and I can't deny that much quality time is spent in front of a pair of Epos ES15s beautifully finished in dark walnut veneer and frequent coats of Stones furniture cream which get to sound better with each of the 20+ years they have served so magnificently. They'll sound as good when they're in her bay window, too.

The point is our kids know us and they can tell others about us from a unique perspective. That's sort of like what God the holy spirit does. Being one with the father and the son he tells us what the father is like by showing us the son. With total and utter openess, supreme clarity and in as much depth as we are able to cope with.

Being in the place where he is, where all three exist in their glory is what heaven is all about. To experience the physical presence of Almighty God and spend eternity in that place with all the others is the destiny of all Christians. The prospect of being there is actually quite exciting. When the time comes I hope no one is sad for me, those left behind will be sad and in need of comfort but God says he is the God of all comfort and we'll take him at his word.

Of course there's masses more but for these couple of hours before the Oramorph wears off these thoughts have been a singular delight. Maybe tomorrow I'll be allowed to think of other aspects but for now happiness flows...

The bottom line - I look forward to the next world, heaven, because God is there.

The Last Year

The first few post firework hours of 2020 were marked by the battle waged twixt discomfort and sleep. Sleep lost until shortly before any discernable lightening of the sky.

The time, however was usefully spent retracing the last year, inevitably trips away and people seen. Obviously the ones bathed in sun and surrounded in beauty come first to mind but sun and scenery are not most important.

One particular trip involved trangressing to London, Locks Heath A3, inside the M25 to New Malden thence whatever roads the satnav chose to Staines and back to the start and then home. It was a great day.

The first lesson to learn is that London is not the natural habitat for convertibles. Once back in the backwaters I noted the filthiness of the windscreen. Lots of cleaning effort uselessly expended before realising that a few hours in close proximity to lorries, vans, rattly cars announcing their diesel propulsion has layered the inside of the screen with the road grease usually found outside. It's better now but not proper clean. Diesel. Lorries and vans I understand but cars? As for convertibles or cabriolets burning oil using compression ignition I can only assume that the runners and riders turn off their hearing aids or have no appreciation of the finer aspects of mechanical orchestration. Anyway, enough griping it was enough to appreciate roads with grass growing along the crown.

However, we were not there to enjoy London traffic in which we succeeded but were visiting friends. The first unfortunate was best man at our wedding. Obviously he was being better at me in everything except for me being a better practitioner of dreckly, better at winding people up, better at being rude, far better at not taking anything seriously and a faster if not safer driver but his dad was the local police. That was when police were worthy of respect and admiration.

Thus it came as a shock to visit on a day when he was throwing out his vinyl collection. The shock was unnerving but being an understanding empathetic sort he told me to put the boxes on the back seats of the car. We haven't got back seats. In the boot then. The boot is full of roof. Selecting a handful I secreted them into the boot. Getting rid of a vinyl collection - it's an illness.

As I pondered this sadness last night I lay immovable if not unconscious and was reminded, as the new year arrived, of Turn,Turn, Turn.  Track two, side one, History of The Byrds.

I haven't got many greatest hits albums because that's what live albums tend to be, don't they? Of course they didn't write it, nor did Bob Dylan it was only arranged by Pete Seeger.

This classic song of mid 60s Americana is the first part of Ecclesiates chapter 3, a time for this, a time for that. The final part is a 3000yr old take on corruption in work, in courts, everywhere else, too. But The two halves are separated by a most profound and easily overlooked statement. It was overlooked by Pete Seeger and he was a very sharp chap.

Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. Ecclesiastes 3:11 NLT

So last night as I looked back over the last year I thrilled at the thought that God has planted eternity in my consciousness such that I can confidently look forward to what is, in all probability, My Last Year, or part thereof knowing that eternity in His presence awaits.

No wonder that the first record spun in 2020 was my best man's cast off.