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 To anyone who may happen on this blog I wish you a 2021 filled with all the best of what was missing in 2020.

A year of fear anxiety grief and loneliness for so many and with  none of the feel-good factors which normally make our days worth while.

This week I have lost a sister-in-law, my late husband's one remaining sibling, and yesterday a well-loved friend from church.  The list goes on growing.

The one sure thing is that looking forward really is the only way to face a New year, looking back on this one will give no-one pleasure.

So what have we?

We have hope and that springs eternal, or so we are told.

We have the vaccine, or vaccines (at last).

We, the lucky ones still have the chance to avoid the virus and prayer to sustain us,

Not too shabby.

A blessed New year to one and all.

A very different Christmas Eve

 There  is no suitable illustration for this year's Christmas Eve so plain and unadorned it is. 

My increasingly long gaps between posts are a reflection of this rather awful year.  

In the heyday of blogging when life was full of interest and possibilities it was easy to sit and rattle off a few paragraphs full of nothing very much, but happy in tone. 

To be brutally honest I have found it very diffilcult to pretend that all was well and still there was something to enjoy every day.  

This year has been a beast of a very different nature for nearly everyone, old or young.  Surrounded by family or alone.

It has always been my contention that being alone was not the same as being lonely.  This year has proved me wrong.

Someone who dropped by (on my drive while I stood in the doorway), said "I would love to give you a hug", to which my response was, "hopefullyy soon".

As I said it I realised that the last time anyone actually touched me was in mid February during the exchange of "the peace" at St Mary's.

The neighbours who take me food shopping once a week tell me they are amazed by my upbeat attitude, and that they think I am doing very well. 

All I can say is that I must be a better actress than I thought.

Despite being in tier 4 and with litttle prospect of anything better for quite some time there is at least the promise of the vaccine, which at my advanced age should be coming my way fairly soon, so all is not quite so dark as it was. 

Every Sunday I "attend" the 10 am service on youtube and enjoy (and envy) the virtual choir and later on this evening I will be at Midnight Mass, so to speak. 

Without the choir (even if not physically present), and the Christmas services this year would be a pretty miserable one, but I have good friends and neighbours, a warm comfortable house and plenty to eat and drink. 

So many people world-wide have none of these things which gives me a kick right where i most need it.

At Midnight Mass tonight I will pray for them, for all of us, and yes, for myself too,

May we, you all have a happy Christmas and a very much healthier and happier New Year.

I won't quote Tiny Tim but you know what I mean.

Another Giant Bites the Dust

 This morning switching on the 7 am Radio 4 News as i do every day I was stunned to hear that John Le Carre has died.

My favourite author for more than 30 years I somehow expected at the very least, immortality,

When my husband was still alive one of my Christmas presents would always be the latest Le carre, and the present I would treasure most.

Not always an easy read, full of intrigue, treachery betrayal and the worst behaviours of which human-kind is capable, he nevetheless imbued all of his characters with such recognizeable traits common to all of us that we could easily identify with their humanity.

Through even the most convoluted plots there always ran a strong vein of integrity so one felt that this was the real world of the spy. 

Apparently a rather private man who didn't really like too much public attention, he seems to have had a dislike for all the fuss and flag-waving. chest-thumping sort of "patriotism" which accompanied the launch of his "Tinker Tailor" books.

It seems hard to imagine that there will be no more such treasures to look forward to.

May he rest in peace.

If you can't beat them laugh at them

 

Since sleep is once more evading my grasp it seemed a good time to have yet another moan about the plague of scammers trying to rob us of our hard-earned cash. 

For the last 2 or 3 weeks I have been beset with daily and sometimes twice-daily calls from BT and Amazon.

Both sets of fake callers have a  similar technique, beginning with "your BT Broadband will be discontinued from 9.00am to,morrow, Or, Your Amazon account will withdraw the amount of £79 from your account tomorrow".

They then say if I wish to prevent this happening I should press 1 ....

Needless to say they are both automated calls so no reply is possible, so what I now do is say (to no-0ne) "Good luck with that" and then leave the phone off the base and walk away.

I know this will only result in their losing a very small amount of money but it gives me a small malicious gleam of satisfaction.

You would think they would be bright enough to work out that if they get nowhere after the first twenty or thirty calls they are never going to do so, but apparently they can afford to go on phoning endlessly, leaving me with the hope that I can at least outlive them! 

Ancient Ruins

Once again Google in its wisdom has decided to make access to my blog even more difficult than it was before, resulting in a very strange format.  But so be it.  

This is my third attempt to blog in a week and the first time I have succeded in getting anything in print.

My theme was to illustrate the similarity between one of the crumbling walls of St Mary's and my own ancient frame.

For both of us papering over the cracks is no longer effective and while the church is at least beginning to obtain the necessary funds to do a good repair, my own repairs are long past having any real value. 

The result will, in time, be a beautifully restored 12th/13th Century grade 1 listed building and a handful of dust. 

This is exactly the way it should be but, seeing (usually accidently) my reflection in a mirror, I find it hard to recognise my present appearance when in my mind I am still 35. 

This awful year with the loss of relatives friends and members of my (social) circle, has been and still is something of an endurance test.

Normally there would be the wonderful prospect of learning practising and singing all the lovely Christmas music, with a welcome rest afterwards to look forward to. 

This year every forseeable day will be exactly the same as the rest of the year has been.

Living alone has its merits but this year has illustrated poignantly and vividly just how much the company of others matters.

Let's hope and pray that the good news about the various vaccines will prove to be the means of all of us beginning to live our lives again.

This old ruin should be good for another decade or so with luck.

 

The Blues

 I like the above picture of St Mary's because it reflects perfectly how I feel about my "2nd home".  The last time I saw it was Sunday 15th March and it looks as though it may well be 15th of next March before I see it again. 

Hopes of a national/international triumph over the virus are fading fast as numbers of infections once more rise at an alarming rate world-wide.

Yet still some stupid people are risking their own and everyone else's lives with careless selfish behaviours which are endangering everyone they come into contact with.

However unwelcome the idea of another total lock-down may be, it is beginning to look more and more likely to happen.

For those of us still being shopped for or suported by neighbours friends or relatives or even more usually, volunteers, there seems no end in sight to the massive debt we owe all those wonderful people.

How, or when we may be able to repay this debt is quite a major concern for many of us, while also being aware that the longer this goes on the more likely it is that some, probably most people will begin to suffer from altruism fatigue. 

In the first rush of genuine concern and warmth of feeling many people produced amazing feats of generosity and kindness, but it would be unreasonable to expect the outpouring of good will to last indefinitely. 

We are all, after all human.

I am still offering prayers of thankfulness for all who are keeping me alive, but am also only too aware that expecting such angelic behaviour to continue for ever is asking far too much.

I wonder if anyone has factored in to the statistics the fact that at some stage the entire voluntary support system is likely to collapse. 

God bless the volunteers.

Octember

 One of the many strange affects of this pandemic is the way one day merges into another seamlessly, so that most of us who are in "hibernation" not only do not know what day it is but often which month we are in.  

At first this worried me, but now nearly seven months since I ventured out into the real world it is no longer a matter of concern.

Soon, as it becomes darker and the days shorter it will no longer matter whether it is day or night.

Like many of us I have learned a new way of using my days/nights and find that in my case it is better to do what needs doing as soon as it appears necessary, or with the switch of a button the monster in the corner otherwise known as the TV will rule all my waking hours.

Yes I still feed the birds and record their daily appearance in my garden for my BTO records, and I still occasionally walk out and dead-head roses and other shrubs.

I walk to the post-box (all of a quarter of a mile) and back and consider my exercise for the day to be complete. 

A phone call from a friend or even the window cleaner has become a major 'happening' filling my day with good feelings, while the silent days merely cause hollow echoes of a previous life.

Since the only outing I now can look forward to is the weekly shop courtesy of my kind and lovely neighbours, I find it increasingly difficult to imagine a time when (hopefully) there will be a church, and a town and library and other wonderful things to enjoy.

Worst of all, is the suspicion that I may now have become accustomed to isolation.

If anybody has a storecupboard full of motivation will you please send me some, by carrier pigeon (suitably masked of course).