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.