“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”...these famous opening words from A Tale of Two Cities have been buzzing around in my head lately.
Time - we can’t escape it, it is with us every step of the way in our journey through life.
This morning, I was awoken by a noise, I couldn’t quite make out what it was - I opened my eyes and looked at the clock to see what time it was and to my surprise saw it was ten past three then twenty past three, then half past three - all in about ten seconds! The hands of the clock were whirring round at a remarkable speed. It was quite a shock to see time fly past, and all sorts of thoughts rush through your sleep befuddled head. Is this your life flashing before your eyes? Has H G Wells been fiddling with his time machine? Is that Mrs B snoring or a terrible Morlock heading my way?
Eventually it dawned on me - the alarm clock is one of those radio controlled devices and no doubt it was just re-aligning itself with the atomic clock in Geneva or some equally exotic location, like Pleasley.
It eventually slowed and stopped at 5.25am.
I think time has been on my mind because of recent events including three funerals for children who didn’t seem to have had their fair share of time.
Reading the list of names at the crematorium yesterday and seeing the ages, from 4 months to 98 years - it really does make you think.
None of us are promised a tomorrow and making the most of today has been a mantra for me but no matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you tell yourself that it is the life in your days not the days in your life that count - none of us want to think about our days running out.
In this midst of all this ‘worst of times’, comes some events which show the other side of the clock face - I am presently arranging a naming ceremony for a new arrival in a family, and then on the news today, seeing those Chilean miners being rescued, surely the ‘best of times’ for them and their families.
And it is then you realise that in one minute across the world, millions of people will be experiencing different things. In one day, about 300,000 people will die and about half a million will be born.
One minute is therefore 6.8 billion minutes...and the clock is ticking.
“Time sweeps everything away. Like the ceaseless waves of a mighty sea, it clashes upon the shore of each human life, seizing the artifacts and elements with which we signify our existence; and - with neither disdain nor regard - it spirits them away. When it takes our sorrow or our despair, we may begin to believe that it is merciful. But when it steals beauty and innocence and charm and joy, we know that it is without compassion. Like the sea, time has no heart. It sweeps away everything. And neither our resistance nor our regret can stay its flow”.
I used this poem by Robert Sexton in the very first funeral I wrote - I have never used it since and I am not sure why. Perhaps its honesty is not what people really want at a funeral?
But the honesty of time is something we should not fear, accepting that we cannot change it, we should embrace it and so today I just ask you to acknowledge time - you can let it be a clock that ticks away the seconds of your life, or you can let it be the metronome that sets your pace as you journey on...the choice is yours.
There are more quotes about time than almost anything else - but here a couple for you to think about.
“Time is the fire in which we burn”. Delmore Schwartz
“Someone once told me that time was a predator that stalked us all our lives. I rather believe that time is a companion who goes with us on the journey and reminds us to cherish every moment, because it will never come again”. Jean-Luc Picard
And finally - the full glory of Mr Dickens...
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.
Thank you for taking the time to read my blog - now bugger off the lot of you!
Wednesday, 13 October 2010
Sunday, 12 September 2010
What's Happening?
Good morning dearly beloved, or good (apply appropriate time reference) if you are reading this at any other time of day than morning.
Morning has become that most fruitful of work times for me, the house is quiet and having briefly watched the news and made a cup of tea, I settle down to write. I have plenty to write this week with five ceremonies to prepare and on top of that, I have a trip to London on Thursday when Mrs B and I will be going to The Barbican to see the 25th anniversary production of Les Miserable.
Mrs B and I fell in love with Les Mis when we saw an excerpt on the Royal Variety show in 1985, we bought the tape and played it endlessly before eventually booking tickets in 1988, or was it 89? Anyway, it was when we moved house from Branston to Lincoln - and the move had not gone as expected and all the furniture was in storage and the tickets where safely locked away in the sideboard which was locked in a container! We explained this to the box office and they re-printed some tickets for us and away we went.
We arrived and found our seats and sat waiting patiently, this was still one of the shows of the day and demand for tickets was high, but as we sat we were approached by another couple, middle aged and middle class in matching his and hers mackintoshes. "You are in our seats!" he said, flashing his tickets in front of my face - sure enough the seats indicated on his tickets were the same as the seats we were occupying.
I showed our tickets and the man called over an usher who took the tickets from the man, his wife standing behind him quietly clutching her handbag, her programme and a bag of wine gums. The usher looked at the tickets, then looked at our tickets, then looked back at the couple and said "yes, you tickets are for these seats but not for today, you are here a week early".
The couple were given what I would now presume to be house seats and we all enjoyed the show.
Now I didn't intend telling that story, anyway, we are off to see Les Mis.
We have been to the theatre a lot lately, well I have. The Country Girl, Sisters - Such Devoted Sisters, Slave to the Wage and now, out of the blue, a call to audition for a new play by a local writer. The play is for three actors, one male, and all play many roles, ages, physicality's. Goodness knows why I'm going, the only age I play is childish, and the only physicality I have is slow and creaky. But if they want to see the old magic, I suppose I could get it out for them to marvel at.
Yes, I have a full week ahead, Mrs B and her group of alcoholic friends require me to make then a vegetable curry on Tuesday evening and I will have visits and other matters to deal with - but I complain not. Life goes on for me quite nicely thank you.
Visiting families who have lost children is a reminder that the freedom to sit and write this rubbish is a blessing (non religious variety of course).
I have increased the Guru's presence on Twitter - please feel free to join me - and have now made contact with my dear friend Christine Hamilton as well as many other people, some more well known than me, some obscure like a nice chap called Rob Lowe.
Nichelle Nichols is there too talking in the wake of the 9-11 Koran burning fracas about the Vulcan philosophy of IDIC. Infinite diversity in infinite combination. In the week that Star Trek celebrated its 44th birthday it was a nice reminder of the future we could and should work for - but religion will divide us well into the future and therefore we can only rely on one thing to keep us together. Take it away Mr Sedaka...
Morning has become that most fruitful of work times for me, the house is quiet and having briefly watched the news and made a cup of tea, I settle down to write. I have plenty to write this week with five ceremonies to prepare and on top of that, I have a trip to London on Thursday when Mrs B and I will be going to The Barbican to see the 25th anniversary production of Les Miserable.
Mrs B and I fell in love with Les Mis when we saw an excerpt on the Royal Variety show in 1985, we bought the tape and played it endlessly before eventually booking tickets in 1988, or was it 89? Anyway, it was when we moved house from Branston to Lincoln - and the move had not gone as expected and all the furniture was in storage and the tickets where safely locked away in the sideboard which was locked in a container! We explained this to the box office and they re-printed some tickets for us and away we went.
We arrived and found our seats and sat waiting patiently, this was still one of the shows of the day and demand for tickets was high, but as we sat we were approached by another couple, middle aged and middle class in matching his and hers mackintoshes. "You are in our seats!" he said, flashing his tickets in front of my face - sure enough the seats indicated on his tickets were the same as the seats we were occupying.
I showed our tickets and the man called over an usher who took the tickets from the man, his wife standing behind him quietly clutching her handbag, her programme and a bag of wine gums. The usher looked at the tickets, then looked at our tickets, then looked back at the couple and said "yes, you tickets are for these seats but not for today, you are here a week early".
The couple were given what I would now presume to be house seats and we all enjoyed the show.
Now I didn't intend telling that story, anyway, we are off to see Les Mis.
We have been to the theatre a lot lately, well I have. The Country Girl, Sisters - Such Devoted Sisters, Slave to the Wage and now, out of the blue, a call to audition for a new play by a local writer. The play is for three actors, one male, and all play many roles, ages, physicality's. Goodness knows why I'm going, the only age I play is childish, and the only physicality I have is slow and creaky. But if they want to see the old magic, I suppose I could get it out for them to marvel at.
Yes, I have a full week ahead, Mrs B and her group of alcoholic friends require me to make then a vegetable curry on Tuesday evening and I will have visits and other matters to deal with - but I complain not. Life goes on for me quite nicely thank you.
Visiting families who have lost children is a reminder that the freedom to sit and write this rubbish is a blessing (non religious variety of course).
I have increased the Guru's presence on Twitter - please feel free to join me - and have now made contact with my dear friend Christine Hamilton as well as many other people, some more well known than me, some obscure like a nice chap called Rob Lowe.
Nichelle Nichols is there too talking in the wake of the 9-11 Koran burning fracas about the Vulcan philosophy of IDIC. Infinite diversity in infinite combination. In the week that Star Trek celebrated its 44th birthday it was a nice reminder of the future we could and should work for - but religion will divide us well into the future and therefore we can only rely on one thing to keep us together. Take it away Mr Sedaka...
Sunday, 5 September 2010
Message from the sponsor
I have just been contacted by Tesco, who thanked me for my on-going advertisement of their stores - they then pointed out that they do stock venison, but only in some of their stores in the posh parts of the south.
The reason they don't stock it in Mansfield is that venison has hardly any fat in it, thereby making it inedible to the cave dwellers of the midlands and the north.
Thank you Tesco - every little helps.
The reason they don't stock it in Mansfield is that venison has hardly any fat in it, thereby making it inedible to the cave dwellers of the midlands and the north.
Thank you Tesco - every little helps.
Saturday, 7 August 2010
Saturday Supplement
How wonderful for you all, a gift of genius from your Guru. A blog.
Dreams are an insight into the world we wished we lived, so I would like to be brave this morning and share with you last nights nocturnal visitation from the land beyond beyond. I will expose myself and am prepared for the shock this might cause.
In my dream I was a famous detective, so famous that I didn't have a name, I was simply known as 'the Detective'.
I was called in by a wealthy lady to investigate the crippling of her favourite horse - the lady was large bosomed and spoke with a plum in her mouth. I asked her to remove the plum and it soon became clear that this made her easier to understand.
She explained that she had left the horse watching television (re-runs of Steptoe and Son as the horse was a distant relative of Old Ned) but upon her return from Waitrose, she found the horse in agony on the floor clutching one of his ankles. The horse had told her that "he did it" before slipping into a coma.
Sadly he couldn't point out the culprit as he was holding his ankles with all his free hooves and it took all his energy to speak.
So, there was I, the Detective, with my faithful sidekick called Marianne.
On investigating the scene, I noticed that near the chair where the horse had been sitting was a small table on which was a hay sandwich and a bottle of chablis, cold and running with condensation. The sandwich had not been touched and the bottle was full - there was no sign of a glass. Then I spotted a broken glass laying just inside the door of the rather spacious lounge.
Near the broken glass, looking like it had been casually discarded, was a large silk cushion on which was stitched a scene of pheasants fleeing a gun dog.
I then returned to the chair and noticed a few dog hairs on a cushion.
I said to the lady - "where is your dog?"
"How do you know I have a dog?" she replied.
"Elementary my dear lady - I saw it when we came in earlier".
The dog was summoned, it entered very sheepishly, making little baa-ing noises. He also had a black eye.
I then gathered everyone around and explained what had happened.
The horse, left watching television, had decided to have a snack and so went to the kitchen to make a hay sandwich and get the chablis from the fridge. Upon returning to the lounge he had found the dog sat in his chair and had given him a good telling off and a punch in the eye for good measure. The horse had settled down and then realised he had left his glass in the kitchen.
The horse left to fetch the glass and the wounded dog seized his chance. He carefully positioned the cushion just inside the door and when the horse returned he slipped on the cushion and injured his ankle. It was all so clear - mystery solved.
The lady rewarded me with £1 million Euros, the dog went to prison, Marianne released a record and the horse sadly died and was turned into dog food, which was then sent to the prison where his attacker was detained.
The dream closes with the dog laughing uncontrollably and pointing at the dinner plate.
This dream is very telling, it shows the great intellect and insight that I possess as well as showing that I have a way with animals.
I think it also shows that cauliflower cheese and prosecco before bed is a bad idea.
Have a nice day and sweet dreams for tonight.
Dreams are an insight into the world we wished we lived, so I would like to be brave this morning and share with you last nights nocturnal visitation from the land beyond beyond. I will expose myself and am prepared for the shock this might cause.
In my dream I was a famous detective, so famous that I didn't have a name, I was simply known as 'the Detective'.
I was called in by a wealthy lady to investigate the crippling of her favourite horse - the lady was large bosomed and spoke with a plum in her mouth. I asked her to remove the plum and it soon became clear that this made her easier to understand.
She explained that she had left the horse watching television (re-runs of Steptoe and Son as the horse was a distant relative of Old Ned) but upon her return from Waitrose, she found the horse in agony on the floor clutching one of his ankles. The horse had told her that "he did it" before slipping into a coma.
Sadly he couldn't point out the culprit as he was holding his ankles with all his free hooves and it took all his energy to speak.
So, there was I, the Detective, with my faithful sidekick called Marianne.
On investigating the scene, I noticed that near the chair where the horse had been sitting was a small table on which was a hay sandwich and a bottle of chablis, cold and running with condensation. The sandwich had not been touched and the bottle was full - there was no sign of a glass. Then I spotted a broken glass laying just inside the door of the rather spacious lounge.
Near the broken glass, looking like it had been casually discarded, was a large silk cushion on which was stitched a scene of pheasants fleeing a gun dog.
I then returned to the chair and noticed a few dog hairs on a cushion.
I said to the lady - "where is your dog?"
"How do you know I have a dog?" she replied.
"Elementary my dear lady - I saw it when we came in earlier".
The dog was summoned, it entered very sheepishly, making little baa-ing noises. He also had a black eye.
I then gathered everyone around and explained what had happened.
The horse, left watching television, had decided to have a snack and so went to the kitchen to make a hay sandwich and get the chablis from the fridge. Upon returning to the lounge he had found the dog sat in his chair and had given him a good telling off and a punch in the eye for good measure. The horse had settled down and then realised he had left his glass in the kitchen.
The horse left to fetch the glass and the wounded dog seized his chance. He carefully positioned the cushion just inside the door and when the horse returned he slipped on the cushion and injured his ankle. It was all so clear - mystery solved.
The lady rewarded me with £1 million Euros, the dog went to prison, Marianne released a record and the horse sadly died and was turned into dog food, which was then sent to the prison where his attacker was detained.
The dream closes with the dog laughing uncontrollably and pointing at the dinner plate.
This dream is very telling, it shows the great intellect and insight that I possess as well as showing that I have a way with animals.
I think it also shows that cauliflower cheese and prosecco before bed is a bad idea.
Have a nice day and sweet dreams for tonight.
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