Wednesday, 11 January 2017

Window shopping

The KHT does not like new clothes.
She prefers the familiar.
The safe.
The ones that help her to look like the KHT.
Any new items introduced into her wardrobe are by careful diplomatic negotiation.  No good buying too many, they will NOT get worn.  For example, a jumper and a hoodie are sufficient for her needs.

Sometimes she will look at totally impractical clothing, safe in the knowledge that the wearing of them will not be expected.  Browsing through the jumble sale of M & S ladies clothing after several week of the sales, she spots a top which may well look great with the right combination of other items, I just lack the vision to see what they might be...

"Hmmm," says she "What do you think of this?
I play along,
"That's a nice top."
"Wait a moment!" she declares dramatically, "Is it see through?"
"It could be" I reply
"Let me check" she announces, in the voice of one who is an expert in these matters.
Sure enough her hand is faintly visible through the fabric.
"Just as I thought! I couldn't wear that!  People might see my..."
I nod.
"Your....." I agree
There is a pause for perfect timing.
Not too long,
not to short.
Her face betrays a prospect too terrible to verbalise.
Then the conclusion is delivered with a flourish
" stomach!" she declares triumphantly.
Safe in the knowledge that no-one could ever expect THAT to be exposed.
We do not buy the top.
Not that it was the right size for either of us!

Never a dull moment shopping with the KHT.

Monday, 2 January 2017

I should be in bed

Outside, unseen, the world is imperceptibly turning white, as the frost silently breathes a crystalized coating over any surface it can reach.  Mystical lines appear of the surface of the pond.

In the kitchen the dishwasher begins its baptismal cycle, removing the detritus of dining, ready for another day of gastonomic disasters. There is nothing new.

On the street bins like silent sentries keep their watch, awaiting the early morning arrival of the refuse collectors, who will race sure-footed along the street, defying the perilous pavements.  Too soon the reversing alarm and rumble of bins will disturb my sleep.

But first I must catch up on the news;  Turkey and Trump (both equally sad), lives cut short, stories of survival. I must check the weather (cold) and lose another game (predictable).

Tomorrow is the end of the Christmas holidays. Work and college recommence.  Meetings arranged. The Bank Holiday limbo has passed, real life recommences. We put behind us thoughts of Christmas and New Year celebrations.  But first I must admit defeat. Give in and climb the wooden hill.

Sunday, 1 January 2017

2017 - the welcome visitor?

Happy New Year.  2016 - infamous for apparent consumption of celebrities, has been replaced by 2017.  This 'new' year does not yet roll comfortably off the tongue. It is the name of a new acquaintance - whose existence I have been aware of, but until now no direct interaction has been required. At the stroke of midnight, the new year burst into the room.  I cannot accuse 2017 of gatecrashing, for we held a small gathering in its honour. The arrival was anticipated, expected and certain, heralded with great celebrations.   Unlike Christmas, where mentions of the person whose birth is being celebrated, are tolerated by an increasingly secular society, but only if it stays in the category of 'cute'.  Most have no real desire to consider why Christ was born, and to mention his bloody and undeserved death at a time of celebration, would be considered unnecessary and irrelevant.

We embrace 2017 like a four leaved clover -  a talisman to give token protection against the death of our heroes and loved ones. The clock struck twelve, bad luck will change...  It is not bad luck, it is life in a fallen world. We are born, we live, we die. Our names are remembered for a few generations, unless we do something spectacularly good or bad... In time our very existance will cease to be remembered. Even our digital footprint will, in time, be deleted, eaten away, byte by byte, as space for storage, unlike God's mercy, is finite.

Today has been subdued, as our bodies try to compensate for the change in sleeping pattern as we celebrated the completion of one year, and the beginning of the next, and recover from the effects of food eaten long after we should have been asleep.

In the days ahead many of us will return to school or work, and after a few hiccups, 2017 will feel as familiar as its predecessor.  I would love 2017 to be a year of peace, of wise and fair use of resources, and for the world to make a concerted, united effort to begin to redress the damage we have inflicted on our planet, for the sake of future generations.  As C.S. Lewis says "You are never too old to set another goal or dream a new dream".  My prayer for 2017 is that we move from goals and dreams to action.  But how?