What’s the Story in Dalamory

Today in church, people all over the world will be thinking about the story of the paralytic man who was let down through a hole in the roof so that he could gain access to Jesus and his healing power. It reminds me that when I was in Sunday School, (many years ago) I learned about this Bible story and thought myself very clever for remembering it all in a Bible exam. It has taken almost a lifetime for me to learn that faith is not learning about Jesus, but learning to know him. And that is something that can never be achieved fully, even in a lifetime. But the adventure is in the doing.

Have a very special Sunday.

We are off in the campervan today to do a shakedown cruise with Misty. It remains to be seen how she gets on. We could either be very frazzled or absolutely delighted. Either way, she has to get used to it – the spring is coming along and that means extra trips away to visit friends, family and favourite places.

I told you retirement was hard.

I don’t quite know what to make of the new sonic teenage deterrent. When I heard about it at first I thought it was a wind up. But not so; apparently, it emits a high frequency noise rather like a mosquito which can only be heard by people under twenty or so. Now this really does sound like the Emperor’s New Clothes. But in any case, someone is going to make money out of it. Groups of young people gathering on street corners and outside shops can be rather off-putting and intimidating, but it has been happening for hundreds of years. Seems like standard pack behaviour – though it has become out of control in many places with gang warfare breaking out over territory.

Well, there hasn’t been one for a while.

The good thing about the 15th February, is that there are now less than two weeks left until March

This morning, I think I shall indulge myself in a little insurance rant. The matter of the recovery of the excess under my motor insurance policy has still not been resolved. Back in August last year, I left Him Behind the Wheel in charge of my car. Actually he was innocently sitting in said car reading a newspaper whilst parked in a parking bay in the street. When I returned from my errand, there was a bump in the car and two distressed French people, one of whom had forgotten which side of the road she was driving on, when she manoevred, or tried to pull away into the street. No problem, says my insurance broker’s hat…..recovery of excess, even from Hertz should be prima facie or whatever. Not so – I have legal expenses cover on my policy, so it falls to my insurer to arrange refund of my excess.

Here we are after somesix months and many phone calls to various exotic sounding people in Bombay or wherever. No refund of excess yet, and I am rapidly becoming fed up. This is just one more example of how life seems to have become much more complicated in the age of modern communications. When reporting this before, I claimed not to be racist. I should repeat that I am not, but I do like to be able to understand what is being said to me on the telephone. Well, I guess the matter is in my own hands. My insurance is due for renewal at the end of March. The question is, can I stand the hassle of changing to a more client-friendly company? And is there any such thing?

No – not the puppy – the weather……

This is from the gospel of Thomas. Not too heretical a saying, and certainly worth thinking about on a Sunday.

The world is a bridge,
Pass over it.
But build not your dwelling there.

The latest yearly magazine from my old school association popped through the door this morning. Interestingly, there is not a trace of a website anywhere on the correspondence, which rather surprises me.  But I did find this photograph of the old school building, taken in 1905. It doesn’t look much different from the 1950s when I attended. Funny how old school memories become so elusive. Each year I pour over the news from old girls and try to picture faces. Rarely do I succeed. My memory seems to have been overlaid with years of family, work colleagues, congregations and so forth. A search online showed me that the new Hatcham College (which incorporates the old boys’ and girls’ grammar schools at New Cross, London) is now one of the most popular schools in the country, with 2500 pupils chasing 200 places. Oh well, I suppose it was always a good school and I was fortunate to go there.

Enough of the whimsy for now. Time to get on with the day. It is a busy life – this retirement.

The LibDems win in the Dunfermline By-Election was a surprise result this morning. What on earth does that say about the state of mind of the voters in Scotland at the moment, especially as the election seemed to be fought on the basis of matters which are in fact devolved to the Scottish Parliament. Are people really that muddled? (I already know the answer to that.) Anyway, Gordon Brown must be feeling a bit sick today. What does this say about his chances of being PM come an election?

On a more mundane note, we lost our water supply, yet again yesterday. This time for five hours. It is always a relief when it comes back on; and it never fails to make me say a prayer for all the people in the world who do not have water systems at all. Being grateful for what we have is part of the secret of a contented life, so they say. Which brings me right back to politics after all, because by and large, we are not grateful for what we have. I am as commited to social justice and improvement in standards as anyone, but I know it is right to keep a sense of proportion.