Dad-daughter 10K challenge 2024-2025…Post Three 13.12.24

Aim 1: to run the Bristol 10K, 2025
Aim 2: to write this blog, logging my daughter, Rachel’s, progress towards a competition 10K next year, and mine
Aim 3: to prove that my choice of earbud listening is vastly superior to Rachel’s…an unlikely tale…and maybe age-related.

Today – already I’m realising that whilst I’ve ‘troughed’, Number 3 may have peaked too soon.
Earlier this morning, my mobile made that WhatsApp notification bleep, and I just knew that Number 3 was in for a gloat and a boast.

So here it is:

10.0K 5.22’/km 53’ 4” – which of course is also 26’ 32” for each 5K. Compare this with my early morning run yesterday 5K (only) 6.13’/km 29’ 39” and the trough v peaked too early disparity is on display.

How to react?

1. Congratulate Number 3 & keep quiet about one’s own feebleness
2. Accuse Number 3 of employing a pacer/stooge/cycling?
3. Let Number 3 read this blog

In reality, I know my blog address is known so…there is no option other than option 3. Oh well.

Looking ahead, I’m anticipating emerging from Christmas with increased mass and hence slower times in January ie running may become less rapid than walking. But as I’ve started this blog with the hypothesis that Number 3 may have peaked too soon, I anticipate that the gap between our relative performances will close. It’s good to keep positive.

And, anyway, who said this was competitive?

Penultimate comment: actually, well done Number 3 – great run!

Lastly, and more importantly, the earbud update. Despite costing a mere £15.00 they are Dad-perfect. Music OK, podcasts fine.

Dad podcast:

Frank Skinner – Poetry: Seamus Heaney, Irish poet…mostly drowned out by early morning commute
Location: Henbury
Weather: Cloudy, 5oC, felt like 2oC, gentle breeze

Acts Chapter 6 Rethought in terms of English Law v the Law of Moses

Scene: Jerusalem AD 30-40

A few years after Jesus’ crucifixion, resurrection, ascension, and the powerful baptism of the Spirit on the Day of Pentecost, the church is growing rapidly as Jews turn to Christ in their thousands:

Acts 2v41 ‘And about three thousand were added to them that day’

That was following Peter’s sermon on the Day of Pentecost. It’s worth noting that many of the three thousand would only have been in Jerusalem for the Feast of Pentecost and, therefore, would have returned to their villages scattered throughout Israel, and further afield, once the week had ended.

However, the church continued to grow amongst permanent residents of Jerusalem:

Acts 4v4 ‘Many of those who heard the word believed; and the number of men came to be about five thousand’

The growth of the church in Jerusalem was set against continued opposition from the Temple Authorities, the council called the Sanhedrin, made up of chief priests, scribes, rulers, and elders, split as they were between two factions the Pharisees and the Sadducees.

In these early months and maybe years all the believers were Jews, placing their faith not only in the reliability of the eye-witness accounts of the resurrection but believing along with the apostles that Jesus had not only been raised from the dead but was Messiah, the Christ, and as such the King of Israel, the son of David. It was a Jewish affair!

Under great opposition from the authorities, the church looked after its own members:

‘All who believed were together and had all things in common and sold their possessions, dividing them amongst all as anyone had need’ Acts 2v44,45

Acts 6

Acts 6, therefore, is often read entirely as events taking place within the church, not in the wider religio-civic society in Jerusalem, however, the case for rethinking this is surprisingly strong.

‘In those days when the number of disciples was increasing, the Hellenistic Jews among them complained against the Hebraic Jews because their widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food’ v1

The ‘daily distribution’ is traditionally understood to refer to a system of distribution within the church, amongst believers. There is ample evidence from previous verses to support this contention:

‘No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had…there were no needy persons…those who owned land or houses sold them, brought the money from the sales and put it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to anyone who had need.’ 4v32-37 NIV

The apostles oversaw the distribution to those in need. Acts 6v1 seems to suggest that, by this time, a daily distribution system was in place and that within the church, the Hellenistic Jewish believers were complaining that the distribution favoured believing widows who were Hebraic Jews.

This view, that the distribution was an internal matter for the church, is emphasised in the NIV translation above by the inclusion of ‘among them’ in 6v1. These words, however, do not appear in the Greek. Compare this with the NASB and NKJV:

‘Now at this time, as the disciples were increasing in number, a complaint developed on the part of the Hellenistic Jews against the native Hebrews, because their widows were being overlooked in the daily serving of food.’ NASB

‘Now in those days, when the number of the disciples was multiplying, there arose a complaint against the Hebrews by the Hellenists, because their widows were neglected in the daily distribution.’ NKJV

An alternative reading of this verse potentially offers a better fit to the complex and fluid society that Jerusalem had become, now that it was split between those believing Jesus as the Messiah and those who did not; also split between Pharisees and Sadducees; the Royal family of the Herods and the Zealots, Jews who were vying for a violent insurrection; and the Essenes who were looking for the Kingdom of God to appear but whose communities were semi-detached from mainstream Jewish Society.

Governing daily life in Jerusalem, whatever faction one might have preferred, was the Law of Moses – referred to as the Law.

One way of understanding the role of the Law at the time is to consider the place of Shariah Law within British society. The current position is that within Muslim communities, Shariah Law is rulings cannot breach UK Law. UK Law holds the supremacy. For example, it would be deemed t be a criminal act to cut off the hands of thieves – which might be permissible under Shariah Law – as it contravenes British statute. This was similar to the position of Jewish society and how it intersected with Roman jurisdiction.

Jews continued to live and function under the Law of Moses, but Roman Law was supreme. The Jewish Sanhedrin could only request that Jesus be crucified but the order for Jesus to be taken and crucified had to be taken by Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor.

Under the Law it was the duty of local authorities to distribute food to widows:

‘At the end of the third year you shall bring out the tithe of your produce that year and store it up within your gates and the Levite…and the stranger and the fatherless and the widow who are within your gates may come and eat and be satisfied, that the Lord may bless you’ Deut 4 v 28,29

Within the gates of Jerusalem, therefore it would have been the Sanhedrin that oversaw the distribution of food to the widows whether Hellenistic or Hebraic. It was a priestly function.

The resident population of Jerusalem at the time is estimated to have been approximately 40,000 ( Estimating the Population of Ancient Jerusalem - The BAS Library ).

It is difficult to gauge the number of widows, however, in the UK, widows account for approximately 6% of the population. And of those, approximately two-thirds are women. It may not be valid to use these statistics for Jerusalem in AD30 – AD40 but this would give approximately 2000 to 3000 widows in Jerusalem dependent on relief under the Law of Moses.

The cry from the Hellenistic Greek-speaking Jewish widows against their Hebraic Aramaic-speaking Jewish widows, therefore, may well have been directed at the Sanhedrin and the delegated local councils, rather than the apostles.

If so, it was into this difficult dispute that the church appointed seven deacons who were ‘full of faith and the Holy Spirit and of good reputation’ 6v3 to ensure a fair distribution.

Quite how that ministry intersected and overlapped with the local authorities and the priestly function in Jerusalem to distribute food to widows is unclear; the text is silent. But whether in cooperation with the authorities or entirely within the church:

Under the Law it was the duty of local authorities to distribute food to widows

The Law of Moses was upheld and fulfilled within the church!

This is exactly what Jeremiah and Ezekiel had prophesied would be the fruit of the coming New Covenant:

‘The days are coming when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and Judah…I will put My law in their minds and write it on their hearts…’ Jer 31v 31-34; Hebrews 8 v7f,

‘I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you, I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. I will put My Spirit within you and cause you to walk in My statutes and you will keep My judgements and keep them’ Ez 36 v 26-27

‘I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh. Then they will follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.’ Ez 11 v 19,20

Jesus had criticised the Temple authorities for corruption, greed, oppression of the poor, and hypocrisy. Despite having the Law they failed to obey its demands despite hundreds of added rules and regulations. A typical critique by Jesus was:

‘Woe to you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! You cleanse the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of extortion and self-indulgence’ Mt 23 v 25

This being the case, it is not difficult to see how such an injustice may have occurred in Jerusalem, favouring ‘superior’ Aramaic-speaking Jewish widows over ‘inferior’ Greek-speaking Jewish widows.

There was no such favouritism amongst the apostles and so they put this right.

As did Paul when instructing Timothy left in charge of overseeing the church in Ephesus. The Law of Moses had no place or authority in Ephesus, a gentile city. Roman rule prevailed. The Law was virtually unknown except amongst Jews who met in the local synagogue.

Whatever the local regulations to may have been to provide relief to widows, Paul instructed Timothy to ‘honour true widows’ 1 Tim 5 v 3 which involved some administration. A list of those who qualified as widows was made, and the church made responsible for their relief.

Again we see the Law of Moses being fulfilled through the body of Christ as prophesied by Ezekiel and Jeremiah. Paul wrote that believers are ‘not under the Law but under grace’; God freely gives us a new heart, a new spirit, and the Holy Spirit who writes the law on our hearts so that we find ourselves fulfilling the law not reluctantly but from the heart.

Under this New Covenant, the Jewish church can finally fulfil the calling on Israel to be ‘a light to the gentiles’ Is 49v6. Within a few years Peter is preaching the gospel to the Gentiles and Paul is planting churches from ‘Jerusalem to Illyricum’ (Serbia) in Gentile-dominated regions. Churches, communities of Christians, are forming that – imperfectly of course – are fulfilling the Law of Moses as the Holy Spirit touches their hearts.

England 2024?

Ever since the earliest churches formed in the 4th and 5th centuries in England, the law of the land has been greatly influenced by the Law of Moses. The dietary and temple laws were not applicable in the New Testament era, but the moral landscape in England has been shaped through passing laws in parliament generally in keeping with the Law of Moses.

Our nation may consider itself to be post-Christian, and even indulge in passing laws that oppose the Law of Moses, but we cannot deny the historic influence of the Scriptures, the Old and New Testaments, in forming our society over many centuries.

Atheists, like Richard Dawkins, acknowledge this; he is on record as describing himself as a ‘Cultural Christian’ realising that he has largely inherited his notions of right and wrong from this Christian heritage, which, in turn, is based on the statutes contained in the Law of Moses.

Jesus quoted Deuteronomy 10 v 12: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul’, an strength,’ and quoted Leviticus 19 v18: ‘Love your neighbour as yourself’.

Conclusion

Our sense of justice, equity, and morality and our current laws concerning the treatment of refugees, foreigners, widows, children, commerce, war, marriage and sexuality, property, ownership, and inheritance, if not directly then indirectly have been influenced by the Law of Moses and taken to new levels of the conscience through Christ’s Sermon on the Mount.

‘You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you’

Mt 5 v 43/44

Isaiah saw this day coming…and saw our day coming.

My Elect One in whom My soul delights!
I have put My Spirit upon Him;
He will bring forth justice to the Gentiles…
…He will not fail nor be discouraged,
Till He has established justice in the earth;
And the coastlands shall wait for His law…
…I will keep You and give You as a covenant to the people,
As a light to the Gentiles’ s Is 42 v 1-6

It is not unreasonable to equate ourselves in the British Isles as ‘the coastlands’ nor is it unreasonable to say that the calling of Israel to be a ‘light to the Gentiles’ has been fulfilled through the early church, through the apostles, taking the gospel to the Gentiles.

And part of that ‘light’ is contained in the Law of Moses.

For the Christian, the Holy Spirit is at work in our hearts writing the Law on our hearts. We are not required to obey an external law, carved into stone. We will continue to ‘walk in the Spirit’ trusting that He will fulfil the law that He is writing on our hearts, even through such imperfect vessels as ourselves.

For those amongst us who are not believers but have a legitimate say in the direction of the nation, we would say there is much wisdom and light in the Law of Moses. Our challenge would be to read it and reflect on it, discover its wisdom, and pass laws in keeping with its light.

Left Brain v Right Brain…for writers

Left brain v. Right brain in Writers

Original Post - click the link above to www.morethanwriters.blogspot.com

It’s difficult to avoid magazine articles, blogs, books, even, that present the world and individuals as either Left-brain or Right-brain dominant.

It all sounds so neat and tidy, as if the brain research has uncovered a key component of human personality left undiscovered for…yonks. Pictures of neurones firing away when presented with images of spreadsheets (left brain) or Monty Python (right brain) are compelling.

Thing is, we like (i) neat and tidy (ii) and eccentricity.

Or am I just talking to Brits?

Here’s a spoof conversation between two writers:

‘Tell me, Jarvis, how do you plan your novels?’

‘I’m so glad you’ve asked me Martine. Not because I know the answer, but the intonation of your soft Dublin accent has given me an idea of a character I’ve been wrestling with…’

‘I didn’t expect that! I’ve known you a long time, Jarvis, but I’ve never quite understood how you prioritise character and plot. You know, I was speaking to our mutual friend, Isaac, last week. He imagines five characters playing poker…’

‘Ah yes, Isaac and poker. He does all the maths. Brilliant at Bridge. Impressive. For me, writing is more like abstract painting. Something moves me towards a colour, and that…’

‘Something moves you?’

‘Doesn’t it you? I mean, an idea, or a feeling of dread, or ecstasy, a longing…’

‘What, about the plot or the person?’

‘Yes, exactly!!’

‘Which…the plot or the character?’

‘Pardon?’

According to the left/right brain characterisation, the left-brain dominant are efficient planners, well-organised, good delegators, and regularly water their indoor plants, whereas right-brainers veer towards spontaneity, insight, empathy, and wear odd-socks.

And, if you’re (rightly, I feel) a tad resistant to being labelled, characterised too tightly, hemmed in by dubious conclusions from brain research, or simply ‘a bit of a mixture’ then, I greet you, and say ‘welcome to the muddle in the middle’.

My right brain seems to write poetry, and my left brain is currently too strong when writing novels…I have to work hard at developing character over plot.

I’m a Chemistry tutor, passable at Maths, partial to a spreadsheet, and drool over maps, but I seem to be engaged in a process (Holy Spirit inspired?) of picking the lock to my left-brain conditioning. Some would say our whole society, education, legal, and political system reeks of Enlightenment thinking, exalting the rational mind over the wind of the spirit, is Greek-rooted. And that right-brainers have a hard time feeling at home in their own skin let alone in the company of others. In schools, we place greater importance on Maths, Science, and English (grammar) than Music, Art, and Drama and wonder why many young people feel alienated.

You’ll find right-brainers on the poetry circuit, or prophesying in church, lampooning the self-important, relieved to stumble across Charlie Mackesy, or supporting Harlequins.

For those of a certain age, I leave you with a question: are you a Captain Mainwaring or a Sergeant Wilson?

Or maybe Phoebe v Monica in Friends is a less patriarchal comparison?

Dad-daughter 10K challenge 2024-2025 Post Two 01.12.24

Aim 1: to run the Bristol 10K, 2025

Aim 2: to write this blog, logging mine and Rachel’s progress towards a competition 10K next year

Aim 3: to prove that my choice of earbud listening is vastly superior to Rachel’s…an unlikely tale…and maybe age-related.

This morning’s run
Location: front door to the farthest reaches of Henbury and back

As it was 5.45 a.m. when I set off, I was unprepared for how dark some of the stretches were. My normal haunt, Bristol’s Harbourside, is well-lit all the way. This observation, of course, is a prelude, justifying my very slow plod, at 6:27 mins/km; a way off my more competitive 5:18 mins/km a mere 4 months ago. Come on Stevens!

Times aside, I listened to Hannah Fry and Dara O’Brien’s podcast Curious Cases entitled ‘Be More Athletic’ hoping it would have an immediate pain-distracting effect. It didn’t. But I did learn that Michael Phelps has an unusually long torso and short legs, plus a long reach and huge hands, all design plusses when it comes to swimming.

 Note to self: consider buying a decent headtorch.

 Update on earpods: ordered a replacement set…white this time, £15.00. Quality report next post.

Dad podcast: Hannah Fry and Dara O’Brien Curious Cases
Location: Henbury
Weather: Cloudy, 8oC, feels like 3oC, breezy

Gargling A look back: combatting childhood ailments in the 1960s

From the toes:

Mycil to kill toe-itch
Hot towels to burst
Leg boils…honestly!

Mumps – finger-climb the wall
Measles – curtains closed, no sunlight
Chickenpox – pink camomile, ahh!

For earwax – cottonwool and Nivea
Wound round mother’s hairgrip,
Tilt head, and hope

Headaches and temperatures
Soluble aspirin – Disprin
Horrid Benylin for coughs

Vick rubbed on chest and back
And menthol vapour,
Head under towel, breathe in

Iodine, like Marmite
Spread on splinters
Before the sharp needle cometh

And if all else fails…
…gargle with salt water

Writing Process? What’s that?

Lindsay Rumbold’s blog post…how she goes about writing novels…an excellent 5 min read

Dad-daughter 10K challenge 2024-2025 Post One 22.11.24

Hard on the heels of my almost successful bid to run a 5K in the world record time for the10K is this year’s challenge.

                                                 Bristol city centre - quiet before the commuter storm

A few days ago I received an email reminding me that is some distant fuzzy summer month I must have entered the 2025 Bristol 10K. That, plus, a text from daughter Rachel, announcing she had achieved a 5K PB (26.34), has shaken me from an athletic slumber, ready or not, for this latest folly.

Is the aim, as aging Dad, to keep daughter 3, 30 years my junior, in her place? Well, the trouble with this is that ‘in her place’ would mean I would be trailing her, as she is (currently, I should add), consistently faster than the ‘ol man.

On the same morning, in Bristol, to her London 5K PB, I also ran a 5K…but in 28.51.

So, that’s the gap.

Can it be closed?

                                                  Harbourside running East into the dawn

This morning, before dawn, I set out on my latest Harbourside 5K. Blustery and cold, not ideal but fun running with the wind. However, my right ear black earbud fell out, twice. Found the first time but not the second, so the time was irrelevant as much searching yielded a nil return.

Rowers out in two-man sculls, on the cold black water, stern and bow lights struggling to be seen

Rowers out in two-man sculls, on the cold black water, stern and bow lights struggling to be seen.

In these blogs I will record podcasts/music we are listening to whilst running and, of course, the times and locations.

Dad podcast: Frank Skinner – Poetry
Location: Bristol Harbouside
Weather: 20km/hr West, 5oC, -3oC windchill

Rachel music: that Dad is unlikely to play…but…you never know
Location: London

Suspended between the present and the future

My monthly blog post for https://morethanwriters.blogspot.com/ https://morethanwriters.blogspot.com/2024/11/suspended-somewhere-between-present-and.html

Suspended…

Sat here in my favourite coffee shop, there’s a buzz of conversation. Mums with babies, blokes like me, silent monks buried in contemplation, half-consumed cake, laptops, music, wobbly tables, and proper floorboards.

It has a writing vibe. Not a meeting point for avant-garde artists and poets but a – I don’t know – a welcoming hum. A place of anonymity amongst crowds. And the music isn’t intrusive but loud enough to tap along to.

Why am I here? The estate agent is showing another potential buyer around the house, so I’ve relocated here, wondering if my blog-writing-tryst will be interrupted by a promising phone-call.

Whilst my body lives in the present, my mind is less confined by the clock. I confess, I have already built an extension, or a writing shed, or a garage, or all three at the new house. The only drawback is that the future is dependent on the present; got to sell first. Time is frustratingly linear!

It’s the same disconnect with my writing – it’s suspended somewhere between the present and the future. The present seems to be as well-defined as a warmed-up slab of chewing gum, stretching far into an uncertain future. The book is written, but awaiting editing, a cover, blurb, publishing, book launch, and marketing…and its sequel seems to be lurking just over the horizon.

What to do?

Note to self: a few things come to mind:

• Ask ‘What is your core purpose as a (Christian) writer?’ If that’s too heavy a question over coffee and cake then maybe a 9 pm vigil in the back garden, cigar and whisky to hand, will help?

• Remind oneself that the Holy Spirit is at work sharing His patience…or, more accurately, forming His patience in me

• Keep exercising the writing muscles – poetry, blogs, short stories

• Read books, but try not to analyse the text so heavily that enjoying the story is lost…but note mastery of technique in passing e.g. Ian Rankin’s skill at planting incidental small actions within the dialogue

OK. The remaining froth in my flat white requires a spoon which is downstairs. Next time. And my cheesecake is no more, and there’s been no phone call from the estate agent.

The future is pressing its claim. It’s almost time to exit.

The future is pressing its claim. It’s almost time to exit. But I’m sitting here caught up in the thought that this rather impromptu post might encourage someone who’s floundering in an ‘in-between’ state between the present writing project and what lies tantalisingly just over the horizon.

If so you’re welcome to join me – in spirit – at 9pm in the back garden.

Mid-Life Crisis?

If one of those warning lights starts blinking red on your car dashboard – what do you do? No, no, you misunderstand me, what DO you do?

Tiddly squat.

Your brain goes into impressive overdrive (note the continued metaphor) and creates several alternative explanations for the flashing light or strategies to deal with it. Number One is to lean slightly to the right to obscure the light – best not to be distracted whilst driving. Number Two is to congratulate the car in its old age, at least something is still working and drive on. Number three is an unconvincing risk assessment – ‘I’ll deal with it if it doesn’t sort itself out by next Thursday’.

Wisdom is silenced in favour of procrastination and procrastination is the infant born from a life organised around certain priorities that have erected a No Entry sign to any uninvited interruptions – including illness, burst water pipes, redundancy, marital problems, or…lack of oil and impending disaster: RAC tow to the nearest garage, overnight hotel, a big dent in bank balance, the wrath of boss, wife/husband, and child who needed a lift to the school concert, and the time-wasting frustration of appealing against the yellow parking ticket affixed to the windscreen.

Following in its wake is a diet of humble pie, three per day for at least a fortnight until some hidden timetable of shame and defeat has done its work and you are helpless with laughter at the ridiculousness of life…and you realise, again, that it’s back to the drawing board. A personal MOT is overdue.

Of course, there are deeper mid-life crises that pay a visit. Ones that threaten to crush its victim beyond repair and others that make long-Covid appear to be a walk in the park.

Back to the question – what DO you do?

Other reactions that do lean towards wisdom rather than outright foolishness include taking a surreptitious peak at self-help articles online or in ‘that section’ in Waterstones. Or, maybe, you will take up that offer from your boss for a well-being introductory day with work-based counselling as a further option.

Somewhere in the back of your brain is not even a memory, more an impression that, in the past, you might have talked things over with a Vicar or Priest. And what does that word ‘spiritual’ really mean anyway? All you know is that the panic attacks at 3am are highly unpleasant, recurring nightmares are increasing in frequency, you’re intimidated by even the thought of doing a presentation at work, and you can barely look at the ones you love in the eye because you fear choking on tears for no apparent reason. And you feel guilty about several recent decisions you’ve taken that fell below the moral standards that you hold others to. Nothing major, but you’ve taken your eye off the ball, ignored your conscience, and taken some shortcuts…your moral compass hasn’t pointed north for some time, so you’ve tidied it away. It’s the flashing warning light all over again. What do you do?

taking a surreptitious peak at self-help articles online or in ‘that section’ in Waterstones

You can fool most of the people most of the time but someone you’ve known, not one of your inner circle of friends, has come up to you recently and asked with a piercing but understanding look: ‘Are you OK, Geoff?’ or ‘Are you OK, Hannah?’ and your hesitation says more than whatever words tumble forth from your lips.

Why am I writing this?

You might surmise that this is autobiographical. Not quite, although I do have this t-shirt. Nor is this article one of those ‘anti-psychobabble’ critiques of counselling – I’m currently about 12 counselling sessions into meeting with a therapist. No. This line of thought was set off by reading about two kings in the bible – namely Hezekiah and Josiah.

Let’s get to it. And, maybe along the way, we might figure out what the word ‘spiritual’ means. Maybe.

King Hezekiah

b. 741BC – ascended to the throne aged 25 in 716BC and died aged 54 in 687BC having reigned in Jerusalem for 29 years.

The account of his political and military exploits is written in 2 Kings chapters 18-20 and 2 Chronicles 29-32. During his reign, Isaiah and Micah prophesied to the Kingdom of Judah.

For us, the important point in Hezekiah’s life came 14 years into his reign when he was 39, a good age for a mid-life crisis.

Despite his great success in pushing through fundamental spiritual reforms, removing idol worship, and returning Israel to the worship of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, he has fallen gravely ill. So ill that Isaiah the prophet tells him to put his house in order and prepare to die.

Hezekiah’s response to this mid-life crisis was to pray. As a result of his pleading. God sends Isaiah back to announce that his life would be extended by 15 years. He had reigned for fourteen years, and now his life would be extended by fifteen…you can’t get much more ‘mid’ than that.

Not all mid-life crises have a happy ending; this one included. Initially, you might imagine that Hezekiah, brought so low by his illness, was taken spiritually to ground zero. His own powerlessness was evident to him, and the source of all his help, past, present, and future, lay beyond his human abilities, wealth, or political clout, it lay in God. There was nowhere else to turn. The doctors had failed, his counsellors’ advice could not touch his personal crisis, and even the prophet Isaiah had said ‘time’s up’.

Hezekiah, however, humbled himself, and called out to God. It saved his life and proved to be such a turning point. The biblical account sheds light on Hezekiah’s state of mind:

‘..his heart was lifted up…made for himself treasuries of gold…’ 2 Chron 32 v 25, 27

‘Hezekiah humbled himself for the pride of his heart…’ 2 Chron 32v26

Despite this experience of humility, being blessed, and having his life extended by God, in his heart he turned it around so that it became a boast. He made the fatal mistake of showing ‘his’ riches to the Babylonian envoys and failed to acknowledge the Lord as the source of his blessing and riches.

During the latter half of Hezekiah’s reign, his son Manasseh was born who witnessed his father’s spiritual decline and how his pride and love of riches had consumed him. Perhaps it was the effect of the spiritual tide retreating in his father that bred in him a desire to lead Israel differently, away from the Lord, and to commit idolatry? Hezekiah started well but finished poorly, Manasseh started badly but repented and finished well (2 Chron 33 v 1-20)

King Josiah

‘b. 648BC – ascended the throne aged 8 in 640BC and died aged 39 in 609BC having reigned in Jerusalem for 31 years.

The account of his political and military exploits is written in 2 Kings chapters 22-23 and in 2 Chronicles 34-35. During his reign, Zephaniah and Jeremiah prophesied to the Kingdom of Judah.

For us, the mid-reign crisis in Hezekiah’s life came after 18 years into his reign when he was 26 after which he would reign for a further 13 years.

Josiah’s personal history and his spirituality are very different from his great-grandfather, Hezekiah’s, whom he had never met having been born nearly 40 years after Hezekiah died. From the outset, aged 8, his reign was saturated in doing right and reintroducing the worship of the Lord to Israel:

‘In the eighth year of his reign, while he was still young, he began to seek the God of his father David…’ 2 Chron 34 v 3.

He was sixteen years old.

‘In the eighteenth year of his reign…he sent Shaphan to repair the house of the Lord…’ 2Chron 34 v 8

He is now 26. The crisis comes when Hilkiah finds the Book of the Law in the temple and hands it to Shaphan who takes it to the King:

‘And Shaphan read it before the king. When the king heard the words of the Law he tore his clothes’ v19

He is crushed by a sense of fear and grief. He realises, not only that Israel has often disobeyed the Lord who brought them out of Egypt, gave them the Law, and promised to be their God, but that the penalty for disobedience would be the destruction of Jerusalem, the temple, and exile…the wrath of the Lord.

What does he do?

‘Then the king commanded Hilkiah…(and)…Shaphan’ v 21 to enquire of the Lord. They find a prophetess, Huldah who reveals the will of the Lord:

‘Because your heart was tender and you humbled yourself…your eyes will not see the calamity I will bring on this place’ v 27,28

In the space of one year following this crisis and the word of the Lord, Josiah instituted a complete overhaul of Israel’s worship and reintroduced Passover v19.

So much good came out of this period and yet, like Hezekiah, it can be argued that the final 13 years of his reign were spent in spiritual decline culminating in disobeying the word of the Lord through Necho the commander of the Egyptian army, entering the battle, and suffering fatal injuries.

His son, Jehoahaz, was 23 when his father died. He was born when Josiah had begun to seek the Lord aged 16 and grew up witnessing his father’s reforming zeal. But his reign was short-lived, lasting all but three months before Necho replaced him with Jehoiakim, his brother.

What can we learn from these two mid-life crisis experiences?

1. Seemingly, crises arise out of the blue and impending disaster looms large

2. We are forced to realise that many things are beyond our strength to put right

3. In our humiliation we may have to face the truth of our complicity in their arrival

4. Hezekiah and Josiah did what a lot of people do…they cried out to God, they prayed

5. In both cases, God responded to their prayers, their prayers and petitions were heard

6. Spiritual turnarounds, however, can be repackaged. True statements such as ‘this happened when I prayed’ shifts the emphasis towards the pray-er rather than the Lord who answered the prayer. That is spiritual pride.

I may be wrong about Josiah’s final 13 years, the second half of his reign. I hope so. As noted previously, the biblical account records the Lord saying:

‘Because your heart was tender and you humbled yourself…’

During a crisis, once we’ve poured out our turmoil, complaints, grief, anger, and our pleading to God we must arrive at a place of peace, and exhaustion, and make sure our heart is ‘tender’.

This is exactly what happened to the Prodigal son (Luke 15)

In a foreign land far away from home his moment of crisis arrives. In the mind of the prodigal, it’s financial; he’s run out of money and cannot support his lavish lifestyle. In addition, his fiscal downturn coincides with a country-wide famine. His only option is to become a slave to a pig farmer whose priority, under pressure himself due to the famine, is to feed the pigs, not his slaves.

So, like Hezekiah and Josiah, he cries out. It is a parable, by the way, not history. It’s easy to forget. In the parable he ‘comes to his senses’. Somehow, in the middle of this disorientating period of his life, he manages to clear his head. Without that, we are lost, doomed to become victims, powerless in the face of events that threaten to overwhelm us.

From this point on the road to recovery is sweet.

But, like all good storytellers, Jesus leaves the story unfinished…on a cliff edge. The party’s over, the initial rush of emotion, of lavish forgiveness, has subsided. The servants have gone to bed nursing hangovers and the father who has overeaten for joy, falls asleep. At 3am, we can only imagine where the older son has taken himself, to some sleazy bar downtown, rehearsing his bitterness and wondering where it all went wrong.

The point of the mid-life crisis story is the necessity to cultivate a tender heart, not harbour resentment, selfishness, or pride.

How does the parable continue? The father: did he keep his heart tender? Or did the bitterness of his eldest son infect him and pollute his joy over the one who was lost and is found, was dead and is alive? Did the prodigal maintain his tender heart towards his father – and his brother? And what of the older brother? Now in a mid-life crisis of his own making. Will he in his rage come to his senses and find a way to revisit all the wrong-thinking that had spoiled his relationship with his father over many years?

As a Christian, at this point, it is tempting to say what we should do in a mid-life crisis is turn to God. I do believe this is ultimately what we have to do, face to face with no other alternative than relying solely upon ourselves, but that’s not quite the message of this discussion.

I may be wrong about Josiah’s final 13 years, the second half of his reign. I hope so.

The main message is that maintaining a tender heart is the key to recovery. To forgive others, and to forgive yourself. To thaw whatever is frozen. To melt, to soften anything that has become hard and inflexible. To rediscover what it is to be a child with no power to provide for him or herself and yet trust that love cannot be destroyed. If we can do these things, no one needs to preach the gospel, or advertise God, He has already made Himself known to you.

You now understand how Jesus on the cross was able to say: ‘Father, forgive them, they know not what they do’.

If it is true what Jesus said about himself, ‘I have the power to lay down my life and to take it up again’, all the more remarkable it is that he did not exercise that power but made himself powerless, submitting himself to the ignominy of a false trial, a near-fatal flogging, the king of kings made to wear of crown of thorns, and then to be crucified outside the city he had wept over.

Suffering injustice and rejection, somehow, he maintained a tender heart: ‘Father forgive them, they know not what they do’. Arriving at this point we understand that God hears the cries of our hearts and that our cries are mingled in with Jesus’ final prayer. We have found that the source of our forgiveness is not out of reach.

And, if so, you know the true meaning of the word spiritual.

And you found out because you didn’t or couldn’t ignore the red flashing warning lights any longer.

The Role of Eye-Witnesses in Historical Fiction

Click the link: Writing historical fiction – the role of eyewitnesses.

ACW Blog: October 7th 2024

Realising that my next 7th of the month MTW post would coincide with the horrifying events of October 7th 2023, I have felt compelled to pay my respects, and to examine the role of eyewitnesses in writing historical fiction.

On October 7th, 2023, the world awoke to the news that Hamas had launched a pre-planned and coordinated attack on several Israeli kibbutzim and the Supernova music festival, murdering over a thousand Israelis and foreign nationals, mostly unarmed citizens, including children, and taking hostage 250 individuals of whom 40 have died while held in captivity and 100 are yet to be returned.

The gruesome eye-witness accounts all report the indiscriminate nature of the attack even if some of the minor details and interpretations seem to be at odds with each other.

Since then the violence has increased multiplying the suffering of Jews and Arabs and all those caught up in the Israel-Gaza war. Our prayers continue.

Those of us attempting to write historical fiction occupy what might be called an interstitial space between accurately documented events or biographies and our creative imagination. Fact and fiction are woven together, and it’s left to the reader to pick at the strands, if they wish to, to differentiate between the two. It’s more immediate with films that take maybe 2-3 hours to enjoy, whereas a typical Hilary Mantel will occupy the reader for days, weeks, or, in my case, months! 

A plug whilst I'm here: the recently published The West in Her Eyes, Janet Hancock (Resolute Books), is an excellent read and a great example of how to put fiction into history - and vice versa.

The distinction between The Crown, Ghandi, Cry Freedom, Apollo 13, and Braveheart or Ben Hur, is that the first four in the list were made when eye-witnesses were still alive. In contrast, Braveheart and Ben Hur were based (however loosely) on historical accounts long after the eyewitnesses had died. 

Where does our moral compass point when it comes to preserving historical accuracy within historical fiction? 

After all, we are storytellers, not journalists, or historians

After all, we are storytellers, not journalists, or historians. Is there a tacit and playful agreement between the reader and the writer that permits, even expects, the writer to go off-piste? (I hope so!) But how far off-piste? Or maybe that is sailing very close to Mark Twain’s maxim of ‘never letting the truth get in the way of a good story’? 

Palestinian writer, Susan Abulhawa, in her beautifully written Mornings in Jenin, and Jewish writer, Assaf Gavron’s wonderful The Hilltop, illustrate the tension between using historical fiction as a tool for propaganda and a genuine, if biased, outpouring of hopes and dreams for a better world.

Libraries, libraries everywhere…and not a book to read

Click the link: Libraries, libraries everywhere, and not a book to read?

ACW blog - September 7th 2024

Library: from Latin librarium – a bookcase, chest for books

Local libraries were places where even the squeak of a shoe on the shiny floor was frowned upon and silence was fiercely enforced by stern ladies with oversized glasses and penetrating stares.

Nevertheless, I spent a fair bit of time in my local library (Whitstable, Kent) during school years rooting around various sections: science, maths, the paranormal, science fiction, and history all come to mind.

It was at University, though, that I successfully distracted myself from my Chemistry degree with fiction - others might have done so with copious amounts of alcohol and other synthetic means – but my forays into Mordor, East of Eden, the Russian Gulag, or Corfu with the Durrels, seemed to be just as intoxicating.

Michael Rosen, former Children’s Laureate, has been voicing his ‘horror’ at the latest round of library closures: ‘

Every time I hear of a library being closed I find it…horrifying… a decimation of our cultural entitlement…many children come from families where they either don’t think to buy books or can’t afford to buy books… we’re taking away free books. At the very moment we’re saying we want everybody to read – so it seems both absurd and horrifying.’

Two stats have made me think:

• 7% children aged 8-18 do not have a book at home. Of those receiving Free School Meals this

increases to 12% and 19% of children aged 5-8 have no book at home

• 97% of children in England have Internet access at home

Is there a case, therefore, for reducing the number of computers in public libraries and returning them to the book and reading sanctuaries of yesteryear?

Libraries have become internet portals and welcoming warm places; more community hubs than reading centres.

But I wonder if there might be a causal link between the declining numbers of library users and this dilution of their primary focus, rather than reduced funding? And as writers shouldn't we be at the sharp end of championing a library-revival?

You may be right in thinking I’ve been captured by some dinosaurian tractor-beam…but I’m searching for solid ground and asking for your thoughts!

In writing this short post, I have hit Google several times. We all use word processors and carry out vast amounts of research online, so I’m not knocking the rise of the Internet, but surely, as writers, we know in our bones, that we have a vital role to play with all present and future readers, stimulating their thirst for imaginative story-telling, and firing their love of literature

Libraries as repositories of cultural treasure?

Michael Rosen has a point.

Paris ’24 10,000m Twenty-Sixth and final installment 0 days to go…

Friday 2nd August

The aim: to try and match Ugandan Joshua Cheptogei’s 10,000m world record, 26:11, but running half the distance!

Opening Blog:

Final Post: in the well-worn tradition of leaving y’all hangin’ first some thank yous to all who have laughed along, cheered, liked and commented on Strava, and doubted (yes you did) and in particular to two pacers, an unnamed pacer on the Severn Bridge Parkrun a month ago and Paul Stuart who worked out a pace for each kilometre and kept me informed as we charged (?) down the Portway yesterday evening.

Some Anno Domini and physical impairments kept me busy: A&E and stitches after falling over and denting my forehead, Achilles heel pain, and various niggles + Covid all delayed progress from 29 minutes for 5K. But, for the past few months, injury free…

The graph shows my favoured early morning Harbourside 5K runs during the past year – the target pace was 5:14 mins per km.

Did I make it? No. I conked out yesterday evening, my final attempt!

This has been such an enjoyable ‘project’ for the past two years. Who knows, I might still get there one day (my PB to date 5:16s/km) but, with the Paris 10,000m Final due to start in 7 hours, I am happy to have removed my trainers, put the very sweaty running vest in the wash, and relaxed today watching the extraordinary athletes bang out 100m well under 10s, 1500m under 3:30, and 10,000m maybe close to 26:11?

Many thanks for reading my 26th and final Paris 2024 blog post.

Over and out.

Paris ’24 10,000m update…4 days to go…Tuesday 29th July

Paris 2024 Olympics is underway, the Flying Cauldron is burning away in the Tuileries Garden, and Team GB has just won their first Gold in the team 3-Day Eventing – congratulations!

And, with four days to go before the 10,000m final, I have four days to try and match Ugandan Joshua Cheptogei’s world record, 26:11, but running half the distance!

Just after sunrise this morning I set off…and was sure I’d run 5K but Strava measured it as 4.91K. Even if I had run 9m further the time was still a tad slower - well, 40+ seconds slower – so there’s work to be done.

How many clichés can I dare to use? One.

It’s down to the wire.

Paris ’24 10,000m update…7 days to go

Friday 26th July 2024

Later today the Opening Ceremony for the Paris 2024 Olympics will explode into life around the Eiffel Tower.

Excitement over the Olympics, held in Paris for the first time since 1924, is crackling away nicely. The previous Paris Games, a century ago, were made famous in 1981 by the film Chariots of Fire in which Eric Liddell, a Scottish Christian, runs for the glory of God and Harold Abrahams, an English Jew, runs to overcome prejudice…and, not to forget, Vangelis’s theme tune.

Et moi?

I’m not running my race for any lofty moral or spiritual goals, but to attempt to match the 10,000m world record time, 26.11, set by Ugandan Joshua Cheptogei in 2020 but over 5,000m by August 2nd, the day of the 10,000m final…seven days from now.

Progress?

Sadly recent attempts to bring my 5K time down have been thwarted. Yesterday I abandoned an attempt…mainly due to misjudging the direction of the wind! Doh! I was running into the wind not with it as planned. Today I woke up feeling decidedly odd with some labyrinthitis and have delayed a steady 5K run for a few hours.

But one doesn’t give up. I’m hoping the Olympian efforts of Team GB and others will inspire me over the final week to push, push, push. No pain no gain, eh?

One doesn’t give up…there are always hurdles to overcome

There are always hurdles to overcome. We’ve woken up to the breaking news that arsonists have targeted train lines in and out of Paris disrupting travel plans for 800,000 passengers on the move. As I write this there are no details, no one has taken responsibility, and the Opening Ceremony as planned will go ahead.

So…in the meantime, it’s Vive La France, much cheering for Team GB, and here’s hoping my earbuds don’t fall out listening to Vangelis whilst urging my two pins to go just a tad faster.

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓼 ’24 10,000𝓶 𝓾𝓹𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮…18 𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓸

I’m feeling the pressure of the deadline…can this 66-year-old athlete (?) run 5000m in the world record time for 10,000m, 26.11, set by Ugandan Joshua Cheptogei in 2020 by August 2nd, 2024, the day of the 10,000m final in the Paris Olympics?

Hmm…this is not me. Hair colour is…inaccurate…and the terrain is hardly the Portway! Nonetheless, I feel there’s something here - a sense of purpose.

Not according to this morning’s efforts.

27:04 this morning for a 5K loop up and down the Portway.

Again, perfect running conditions: cool, very slight breeze, dry. But the legs?

Thoughts include cutting out alcohol, resisting the pull of the toaster, and overcoming the sports-junkie-couch (but not today, there’s some serious tv viewing with Men’s Final Wimbledon and England v Spain footy later).

Also, adding in 1500m runs on the gym treadmill to get legs and lungs used to running faster.

Two and a half weeks to go.

‘They that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall run and not grow weary’

Yes, this is my prayer.

Paris ’24 10,000m update

25 days to go…

This morning I set out with the intention to meet my target and break 26:11 for a 5K around Bristol Harbourside.

If you’ve been mad enough to follow this post over the past year or so you’ll know my aim: to run 5000m in the world record time for 10,000m, 26.11, set by Ugandan Joshua Cheptogei in 2020. And to do so by August 2nd 2024, the day of the 10,000m final in the Paris Olympics.

Weather conditions at 7a.m. were perfect: blue sky, no gales, and early enough not to have to dodge commuters walking, biking, or e-scootering to work.

Man, it was tough!

Arriving back at the car I pressed my Fitbit watch to stop, and once recovered, looked at the time 26 mins! However, closer inspection revealed that the time was 26:13 AND the route I took was 4.93K, 70m short of a true 5K.

So…not quite 5K…and not quite fast enough.

Just over three weeks to go. Kummon!

Back. Shower. Tea. Cereal. More tea.

Paris ’24 10,000m update

35 days to go…

If you’ve been mad enough to follow this post over the past year or so you’ll know my aim: to run 5000m in the world record time for 10,000m, 26.11, set by Ugandan Joshua Cheptogei in 2020. And to do so by August 2nd 2024, the day of the 10,000m final in the Paris Olympics.

Not only is this a physical challenge but it also carries a moral/technical dilemma. Look at the Strava time below – 1 second off the target time of 26:11.

I should be cock-a-hoop…but celebrations are tempered by the official Severn Bridge Parkrun time: 27:10.

Why the discrepancy?

1. On Parkruns it takes a few seconds to reach the start line unless you are one of the Jaguars that see a 5K as a sprint…but it doesn’t take a full minute!

2. Strava is ‘generous’ and so shows more favourable times. Bit like weighing yourself on uncalibrated scales that show ½ a stone lighter

3. The official distance needs to be re-checked

I suspect number 2 may be the most significant factor!

Back. Shower. Tea. Toast.

Last comment…I struggled to keep up with the 28’ pacer as much as he struggled to run slow enough to hit 28’. I am indebted to him as a target in his light blue Pacer vest some yards ahead before a late burst from me and a passing Thank you as I lolloped towards the finishing tunnel.

Back. Shower. Tea. Toast.

Paris Olympics 2024 – 43 days to the 10,000m final

My aim is to run the 10,000m world record time, 26.11 set by Ugandan Joshua Cheptogei in 2020 but over 5K by August 2nd, the day of the 10,000m final in the Paris Olympics.

Recent times:
April 19th 27.47
May 18th 27.35
June 15th 27.11

This morning Harbourside 5K…26:30

And I can tell you, that hurt!

Chuffed and puffed…but can I knock off 20 seconds to dip under Joshua Cheptogei’s 10K world record for a 5K by August 2nd the day of the 10,000m final in Paris???

Paris ’24 10,000m update

Bonjour! Signs of progress!

Over the past year, this blog post has not been littered with positive news. If you’ve read a few you’ll know that this 66-year-old athlete (?) periodically introduces you to yet more Anglo-Saxon and Latin-sounding injuries: Morton’s Neuroma, Plantar Fasciitis, Achilles tendonitis, a torn calf-muscle, and anno dominitis.

But to break the fug, the gloom, and the despondency, finally, there’s some sunnier news.

I’m going to give some credit to my osteopath who has altered the way I exercise before running and a good running club friend who has insisted I should stretch after running. If, just prior to a Parkrun, you come across a fella waggling each joint in different planes and lunging as if there’s no tomorrow…it could be me. Plus a warm-up run of a few hundred metres, ideally, before pressing my Fitbit 4 watch to start recording the run.

Two recent runs to report:

6th June, Cumberland Basin

It’s not much after 6 am and we’re off on a bright but chilly morning with a slight northerly breeze along the familiar Harbourside 5K route, past the rowing club, and on up to the cranes turning into the city centre, back to the harbour wall, returning to Hotwells, over the small bridge and turning Fitbit ‘Off’ just before reaching the car.

Result: 27.49 for 5.08km - approximately 27.22 for 5K

My aim is to run the 10,000m world record time, 26.11 set by Ugandan Joshua Cheptogei in 2020 but over 5000m

15th June, Severn Bridge Parkrun

Windscreen wipers working hard on the drive up the M5 and across the Severn Bridge tell their own story, and blustery winds charging up the Severn from the south are ready to make 200+ runners run at a 10-degree angle. The diagonal rain comes and goes. It’s all the way up the impressive motorway bridge and back down. I find it hard to gauge pace, and to decide whether I have enough puff to push on faster for the finish.

Result: 27:11 for 5.00km Fitbit watch - official time, however, was 28:06 - evidently it takes a while to cross the start line!

My aim is to run the 10,000m world record time, 26.11 set by Ugandan Joshua Cheptogei in 2020 but over 5000m by August 2nd, the day of the 10,000m final in the Paris Olympics.

Place your bets!

A weekend diary ramble, London

It’s Saturday, 1st of June. There’s no excuse for the British summer not to take to the stage now. It was so promising at 7.10 standing in the cool air and warm sun on the platform at Sea Mills waiting for the two-carriage train on the first leg to Paddington.

Temple Meads is bustling but quiet. Few are managing speech, preferring to sup at their black Americanos like babies on the teat and consult their mobiles for news that maybe could wait.

I’m no better. I look once, no twice, to check my reserved window seat number on the Paddington train. The London-bound herd has to migrate to Platform 11 and the immense beast arrives, loads its passengers, and is gone, slithering snake-like round the bends exiting the station after the briefest of hesitations.

I have my window seat and a table from which to watch the oncoming clouds and the disappearance of summer.

Fussing with available networks I navigate to a poem on Word written in 2020 when I was feeling rough, maybe with Covid. Reading it again, and fleeting fragments begin to coalesce. It’s called 20kg to highlight how administrative errors by computers are just as racist as humans.

Did I mention clouds? How dull the countryside looks compared to when it’s bathed in the summer sun.

The hubbub of conversation fills the carriage. I hear random words: pig, dry-cleaning, rugby, steak, Treacle (someone’s nickname!)…

I am in a curious bubble cut off from the world cocooned in tiredness – it was a long day yesterday and, with five hours sleep, I feel as if I’m in a tunnel of impenetrable cotton wool.

Reading. Last stop before London. No seats left around the table. I’m waking up, I think. Maybe it’s writing this that’s keeping me conscious. Poor daughter 1, who’s meeting me and will be full of words to pour out, may have to suffer Pa, whose capacity to listen is greatly diminished and needs the nap that he cannot have.

Here’s that poem:

20kg

No words flowing in my veins

No lift of consciousness

To see things small and great

Knowing they are one of the same.

I am unwell.

Corona alarm bells are ringing

Medical professionals pass me

From one number to the next

From one Covid screen to the next

On-line I yield my NI number, my NHS number, my mobile number,

My DOB, my postcode and

Although, when ill, humour is suppressed,

I laugh as the United Kingdom’s database

Cannot identify me!

Have I slid between a crack in the binary?

Could there be an unknown portal between 0 and 1 and 1 and 0?

That algorithm, that App, that whirring computer,

That overheated, CO2 polluting, electricity sapping,

Power-consuming mega, giga, terra server

Cannot identify me!

It required a human to pull strings,

An agent with a pulse

A simple kind woman on a telephone

To put Kasparov ahead of Blue once more

To identify a fellow human, a citizen, a real

Flesh and blood tax-payer, Portsmouth supporter,

Whisky-loving, cigar-smoking, God-arrested, retired Chemistry teacher

And father of five.

Did a whiff of Windrush just slide by?

Of being denied

Though the truth, standing at 38 degrees and not quite well

Had walked upon Jerusalem for six decades and more?

I had smelt the it.

The officials who, unlike the woman, denied rights

Denied existence, denied certain proof, denied humanity

And, hiding behind endless forms

Couldn’t identify…

…Jocelyn John and many others

Jocelyn John with her 20kg bag allowance uprooted and deported

On Christmas Day

Jocelyn John who, unlike me, didn’t find a woman to defeat Goliath

But who fell between the 0s and the 1s

With more documents than needed to build a bridge to Grenada

Was sent away, deported, unidentified, an innocent branded a criminal

On Christmas Day.

It took 10 minutes to find me

The lost, unidentifiable, me

For those moments I was no-one

Applying for a Covid test, feeling unwell

But otherwise fine.

Birth certificate? Check.

But for Jocelyn five years passed,

Three million contested minutes later

An official apology emerged

A repatriation, a restoration, a righting of wrongs,

And JJ’s name is back where it always belonged - in the computer.

Jocelyn John. UK citizen. British.

Bring out the fatted calf.

Put rings on her fingers and

Buy her a new pair of dancing shoes

Let us eat and be merry

For that which was lost has been found.

End of diary entry #1.

Diary entry #2

Monday. On carriage A seat 16 from Paddington heading home. Reserved. Window seat. Facing forwards. Table. Quiet coach. Perfect. A rather peaceful-looking golden-haired dog across the aisle from me. I hope he/she understands the word Quiet.

Two days on tubes, buses, shags pony have taken me to Surbiton, down by the river and the first of numerous flat whites. Thence to The Telegraph open plan offices with sleek black laptops forlornly looking for their operators on a Saturday morning. It’s like a beehive with the queen bee in the easily accessible centre – the Editors’ oval holy of holies.

Across to a street market for an eclectic and international choice of hot food. Jerk chicken consumed; we head back to number one’s flat to zonk out watching a film.

Pre-church flat white on Sunday with number three, then St John’s, or ‘Saint’ as it’s known colloquially. There is an emphasis an immediate ethos - a ‘cool’ and contemporary vibe. Great music, good sermon on the equal need we have as humans for communion with God and community with each other. Can’t knock it. A far far cry from the stiff and formal CofE of my upbringing, ancient stone floors, musty, green-edged hymn books and the all-important black prayer book that only the regulars knew how to navigate…and much silence. Switch that to noisy, rock concert, and emotion and you’ll understand the difference. Could be summed up as the gap between religion and relationship but the truth is that both can easily become a tradition that binds its adherents into a self-perpetuating pattern, empty of meaning. So…ignoring the style…one needs to dig deeper to see if it’s a case of style over substance or substance exhibited in a more exuberant style. For example, the previous Sunday, a lady preached who had been miraculously healed from paralysis, a wheelchair to walking miracle following prayer. If accounts like that don’t stir the blood and justify the feet dancing and hands waving what will!

After church, we move on to lunch at a bar/restaurant offering food from Tel Aviv, Sicily, and Lebanon. Bit later we’re in a lift hurtling into the sky and landing up in a rooftop bar looking down on the Gurkin. 40 floors in just few seconds. St Paul’s looks like a squat little house far below.

…the previous Sunday, a lady preached who had been miraculously healed from paralysis…

Of course, in between all these places are serious and humorous conversations, and ‘impossible to hear’ moments on noisy tubes, people watching, eye-catching buildings, tall and modern, and historically recognisable districts. At one point, for example, we’re near Spitalfields, which figures strongly in the novel I’m trying to write, located in the summer of 1796.

I’ve frequented numerous bathrooms; all clean, with an array of soap dispensers, hand driers, and flushing techniques. One has to be mentally agile these days. I’ve ascended and descended I don’t know how many escalators, stairs, and ramps and passed by the 2012 Olympic stadium, now home to the Hammers, as if it’s normal to do so.

And now, all is done. Just the return journey with the still silent dog to my left and the dull green countryside on a dry, cool, and cloudy day. Saturday and Sunday, by contrast, were very sunny and warm.

You’ll have noticed I have restricted this diary entry mainly to activities and places – an external rather than an internal account. The distinction between private and public, facts and feelings, is interpreted differently by different individuals but the footballers’ refrain ‘what’s said in the dressing room remains in the dressing room’ isn’t a bad adage.

Over and out.