Power

I received an email this morning from my father.

My brother has proved yet again that he has no respect for me at all for it was he who told me father how to contact me.

My father's email showed that he is the same man he always was. Not by what he said but what he didn't say. One couldn't say it was nasty email, it wasn't. However, it was one written by someone who feels no remorse or culpability at all and that speaks of my mother's death as if it would have no effect on me. He could have let me know at the time of her death 4 years ago and chose not to.

At first I was shocked and afraid when I saw the email. I read it. I went to make myself a coffee and forgot how to. I was shaking. I was no longer a man in his 50th year but a boy.

Not for long.

I talked it out with someone and thru some well thought out questions, I realised I had power here. Over myself. I need not give that power away. I have no intention of doing so.

It is the task of the adult me to take care of and protect that vulnerable part of me. When asked directly what the adult me would so, I knew instantly that I would protect me and keep well away.

Fortunately for me in this instance, the last few months of letting go last year, the feeling of all that I felt, is still very fresh and so I cannot pretend to myself it would be wise for me to back into the lion's den. It aint going to purr!

I have fought a long and excruciatingly hard battle, one I came very close to losing, to gain a life and sanity. I am not about to risk it for more of the same.

Those people have never treated me with respect, let alone love. If they were not related to me, no one would expect me to have anything to do with them. I have been nothing but a source of great shame and embarrassment to him and the pain he caused me almost destroyed me.

Let him and the rest of them carry on thinking that I am mad and bad.

Denial is a very powerful force, but not insurmountable. Either the man has forgotten how cruel and vicious he was, how I never got anything but his fists from him (and money - for appearances sake), or he still doesn't think he was wrong. He could be completely unaware of the terror he caused me. He maybe doesn't care. I only know that he doesn't acknowledge it.

Many years ago I did confront them about it. The result was total rejection by all of them. Today it has been engineered, deliberately I think by my brother, so that it is me who does the rejecting. Why? So they can say in truth, sort of, that I won't have them in my life.

So be it.

I value myself far too highly to allow my life to be put at risk now. There is nothing to be gained for me now. Nothing at all. It doesn't matter.

I won my battle. I survived.

You will be aware how I wrote last year, December I think, how I had a sudden tearful realisation of forgiveness as far as my father was concerned. I still feel the same way. I want nothing but the best for him and if he were a different, remorseful, man that might include having me in his life. .

My first duty is to myself. I spent years neglecting me, bending over backwards for acceptance and love. It nearly killed me or had me locked up for good. I give give acceptance and love to myself now.

I have good friends who love me and a man who, despite all odds, has loved me and stuck by me through what has been a very difficult ride, for almost 27 years now. His name is John. You have 'met' him here and some of you in the flesh. John showed me what it was to love, to respect, to be loyal, to care, to have compassion. In short to be a decent human being. I am profoundly grateful for him.

I would not have survived without him. I could not have healed without him. I could not be where I am today without the support he has given me and the space he gave me to be me. Indeed, the encouragement he gave me to be me. He has never, not once, told me or made me feel I was not good enough, that I was lacking. He saw me at my most vulnerable, my most dark moments and he was there accepting me and holding me. He never tried to fix me. He never told me what to do. Never called me stupid, useless, pathetic, embarrassing. He saw the man I was and loved me for me. He didn't want me any different. He just wanted for me to be happy. He got his wish.

I am happy.

New PC and stuff

I replaced my old PC which I had not realised was quite as old as it is!

I bought an HP Pavilion Elite. I can't believe how fast it is. I was not that impressed with Broadband. Now I know why. My old PC was slow and hence that limited the broadband.

This has 1TB of disc space (500gb internal and a removable 500gb drive). It has 3gb ram its an Intel Quad Core and ....now I am lost...lets just say it is fast and running smoothly. It means I can do more than one thing at a time which was very slow or not possible on my previous Pavilion.

I did not sleep at all well last night. Kept waking up and was in bed 5 hours though as I said kept waking up. I know this is because of the new PC. Strange as it may seem, until this new pc is settled and I have all my stuff on it, I won't feel settled. I have yet to figure out how to get my links and address book from the old one to this one. It is possible I know. I think I shall ask Michael next door to help me as he is a computer whiz.

For now, I did not buy a new monitor. I will as this one will be use don the old one, which I shall keep for now a sit has stuff, like my knitting design software on it and other stuff.

I also need desperately to sort this computer / knitting machine room out. It is a mess to say the least and it has got to the point I can't find stuff or move around easily!

The weather is sunny and warm. We have had a rather long and dull though not especially cold winter.

Shameless is at the point of her pregnancy where she has morning sickness and is not keen on eating though she is still eating some. It will usually pass after a week.

Socks n Stuff

This pair of socks is knitted with OnLine Beach colour number 942. The composition is 45% Cotton, 40% Wool and 15% Nylon. 380m per 100gm Knitted on 2.25mm needles, one circular pair, at the same time, each on it's own needle. I used 3x3 rib. I knit 208 rounds in total(not including heel turn), over 66 sts. I knit from the toe up, used my Andersson Heel Mach 2. Same recipe as my Tundra socks tho a different gauge - 34sts and 48 rws to 10cm (8.5sts and 12rws to inch).

POLICE PEOPLE

Yesterday we went to Springfields (shopping mall-outside) to exchange a pan and buy two new Titanium pans. What we did not know was that there was the annual Flower Festival on in Spalding and the parade was starting at Springfields. I pulled up by the road closed sign to ask the policewoman what I could do. Before I had a chance, she started mouthing off at me and told me to move NOW! I was rather pleased to find I did not scurry away but held my ground and just kept repeating 'will you listen to me please' until she did.

A policeman came along and they decided to let me thru. We were stopped at the next roundabout by two more policepeople who were even ruder and we were forced to do a U Turn.

Well, now I was really annoyed. First off, have these policepeople forgotten that they are there to serve us and that we are not there to serve them? I didn't give in. I went around what I guessed to be correctly, the back way.

I came across another policeman who indicated me to pull over and I did. I opened my window and, held my hand up and asked him to listen to me before he started shouting. This policeman was very pleasant. Even though I had been forceful to him before he had a chance, he did listen and saw my predicament. He said he couldn't help me though. I asked him how far I was from Springfields and he replied I was 5-10minutes away on foot. I explained I would be using a wheelchair. During our chat, I noticed a parking spot beyond the barrier. I asked him nicely if he would allow me to park there. He asked me if I had a Blue Badge (disabled drivers parking permit) and I pointed to it on my dashboard. He said I could park there but not to tell anyone he had told me so.

So we parked and wheeled thru the crowds which was a mixture of very pleasant people who were helpful, some overly so, and those who were downright ignorant or complete wan**rs.

John had wanted to turn around and go home at the first policeperson. He is very British that way, don't make a fuss. Not me. I will not be doormat. It is this 'don't make a fuss' attitude that service here is so awful and why disabled people get treated so badly. I made a fuss, firmly, no swearing, no threats. I got what I wanted which was to be treated with respect.

OH BOTHER

One negative consequence of the weight loss is that most of my clothes do not fit me. None of my light weight jackets, a lot of my Bavarian shirts and a couple of the jackets. I am really disappointed. Not by the weight loss obviously! I really though they would still fit me because My shoulders would stay the same. No they did not. Even my sweaters are too long in the sleeve now.

BRACES

I wear braces all the time now. The trousers I wear are a size larger than I need but they feel more comfortable when held up by braces. I have been doing this since the IBS got bad. I don't like anything tight around my waist or hips. The braces are really so comfy and I am not forever having to rearrange my bits every time I sit down or get up.

More Stuff

I have spent something like 6 months wondering if I ought to write to my brother to find out if my father was alive or not. As you can see from the post below, I did.

I do not regret doing so and I do not feel as bad as I thought I might do. It has of course brought up all sorts of sh*t.

His final response to me (at least I hope it is final) clearly shows me that he is still in denial and still holds me responsible. He can't do anything else. His whole life is based upon this lie. If he really saw me, and saw what happened, then he would have to accept that our parents were what they were and not what he sees them as-good parents who had the misfortune to have a rotten son - me. He can't do that.

I detest how he makes his money. It is a con. He may also be conning himself, and therefore not realise he is conning others too.

He didn't speak up all those years ago when I was locked up in a psychiatric hospital and diagnosed as Paranoid Schizophrenic because my telling the truth was seen as lies because my family denied it. My brother, did not tell the truth and he knows he didn't because I had a weird phone call from him in 94 which was to beg my forgiveness for him not speaking up. In the second phone call he was back to his hateful blaming of me.

I was forced to take neuroleptics. These drugs are dreadful. An animal died at my hands whilst I was on these. To this day it breaks my heart to know this. No matter how I tell myself I was not myself, it hurts like crazy and haunts me today.

These drugs make one extremely anxious, cause tremors, shuffling gait, and can cause permanent muscle damage. Not only do they not help, they cause tremendous pain and anguish and hallucinations etc. In short, they are evil and I am sure are probably used by torturers. I'd die before I would take these again.

Imagine being held down by a group of so called carers, psych nurses, having your trousers pulled down and having this stuff injected into your bum.

For a few years prior to this, during this, and after this, my brother was constantly telling me how evil I was, how God hated me, how I was possessed by demons, how wicked I was for not Honouring My Mother and Father as commanded to. How homosexuals stood no chance or being loved as we were hateful evil people. (He is gay too but I didn't know this. My elder brother is also gay but he never helped me or even told me he was. He left me to take all the sh*t from our parents.)

My two brothers are like my parents who never considered anyone other than themselves. Part of the reason my education stopped was because they decided to move, they did not have to, from Australia to here right in the middle of my most important school year. I never did recover from that. My official education finished there.

In the early 80's my elder brother was in hospital. My parents visited him often as did my brother . I was in the same hospital seriously physically ill (liver damage from the psych drugs) and no one visited me except for my own partner John. I had forgotten this until he reminded me.

My brothers reason for hating me, he says, is that I was violent towards him. I was too. How else was I to react when full of psych drugs for a start and he was telling me over and over how evil I was and that I was possessed and just plain wicked. When he told me how he hated me for the violence, I apologised to him. I said I was sorry for any pain I had caused him. Of course to this day he does not accept he had any responsibility at all. ( might add that the violence was was not such that it caused breaks or bruises. In fact Idon't really recall what he says happened but I took his word for it and did my part in apologising. I meant it too. I would not wish to cause him suffering. ) Funny how he holds me to account but not himself.

Whilst I was in hospital, they all went off to Orlando, paid for my my elder brother because they needed a break from their mad and bad son / brother. Later, when I was with John, my partner, I was speaking to my mum on my Dad's birthday and I was casually informed that they were all going out to celebrate and I was not invited.

I was such a f**king fool in those days. Did I see what was happening? NO! Did I stop seeing them? NO! I still believed that I could get it right and they would love and accept me. I didn't know then that the problem was them and not me. I may not have been so humiliated had I known that then. I may not have wasted so much energy and shame and guilt upon people who were not worthy of me at all, who didn't deserve me, my love, or my time.

This is only a very small sample of the sh*t that went on in my family. As I re read what I have written, I feel proud of myself. Not only have I survived, I am LIVING, not existing. I am happy. I am at peace with myself and who I am and where I came from. I am loved. I love. I have a good life. I have a partner of 27 years, more than can be said about them. I am astonished really that I did survive all that and more. Maybe later I will give more details, a blow by blow account so to speak but I don't feel the need to right now.

(I don't want anything from my father-my reason for needing to know if he dies is purely for our continued research. For sometime, almost 2 years, my mother communicated thru various people at various churches and I had no clue. Yes, it sound like her but she was alive so it couldn't have been. So I thought. I could not believe she would die and no one would tell me. They didn't tell me. They could have. They chose not to. That speaks volumes about them.)

Edit: it is at times such as these that I am aware how therapeutic writing my blog is for me. It helps me process my thoughts and feelings.

Correspondence

My initial contact:

would you tell me how father is, please?

Colin

Response:

Dear Colin,

It took me a while to work out who this email was from, I strung together Lhasa Apsos and Knitting to figure it out, it ended up in my spam box.

I am currently in China, I've been here since last November. I sold my house in South Africa after having experienced a terrible ordeal in an armed robbery.

Dad has been living in London for almost two years now and my official address is his house. Dad has re-married, you may know that, and his wife is South African. They are considering moving back to South Africa later this year.

I am back in the UK as of 15th May and go to Argentina for several months in June in order to learn Spanish and to do some work.

How are you keeping?

You may want to see Dad before he moves again, he will be 80 this year.

love,
John

Thank you for your response. I would like for you to let me know if the situation with father changes. I would rather not be in the situation of ignorance again as I was with mother. (I thought he was 80 next year- Dec 1929 his birth). I received communication from mother via mediums which I rejected because of my ignorance.

I can be contacted at this address or you can contact John at:

(email addresses)

Dear Colin,

I find it rather odd that you are making a request from me and yet you fail to even address me as a real living person. Your first email was virtually anonymous, which is how it ended up being filtered by my system into my spam box. For some reason, I decided to check it today as a huge amount came in at once, so that go me curious. Otherwise, your email would never have been seen and without even knowing it, it simply would have been deleted.

You want something and yet you clearly show that you want nothing to do with us at the same time through your lack of use of names etc, or so it would appear. This is confusing to me.

I will of course inform you of any changes regarding Dad's health or presence with us. You may consider looking at an opportunity for healing in the here and now instead of waiting for Dad to pass over and having a conversation with him via a medium after the event. You must find your own way of course, only a suggestion. These things usually only beg one question - do we want peace or do we want to be right?

You are correct, Dad is 79 this year.
John

My Response:

You wrote:

I will of course inform you of any changes regarding Dad's health or presence with us.

Thank you.

Your concern regarding my peace of mind is surprising and unnecessary. I am at peace with myself and with life. You seem to not understand that it was my family that rejected me, not the other way around. I have come to terms with that. I am glad to be who I am and I see clearly who missed out here.

As for seeing you as living real person, I think that is projection on your part because you have never treated me anything like a person, but rather as an object that didn't ever matter. I know only too well that you are real.

This is all water under the bridge. For me at any rate. I thank you again for at least agreeing to let me know should father go over before I do.

I think it best that our communications are left to that. I have given you the benefit of the doubt twice, in 94 and in 05 and both times what started out promising ended with you spewing hatred out at me and, like you always have, blaming me. You might want to look at that, especially in light of what you do.

There has never been a bond between us. Never. You have never shown me anything but contempt, mockery and hatred. I fail to understand why you think there can be anything I want from you.

I know you won't believe it, because it won't suit you, but I really do not hate you. I do feel compassion for you. I know where you came from. I only wish the best for you.

I think maybe you can't get your head around the fact that I am whole despite my family. I survived, I survived well. I live, I don't just exist and I don't carry that filth with me anymore. I am free of you and hopefully you can find that same freedom.

If it was not for my own spiritual gift and the fact John and I attend church on a regular basis
I would not have asked this of you. I do hope you can keep your word. It is all I ask of you.

colin

Contact

First of all, I had a good nights sleep on the new memory foam mattress. It felt rather odd at first but how I felt this morning suggests this was a good idea and a good buy.

My swim went very well today apart from one silly sod who thought it was best if he swam width wise whilst the rest us swam length wise....

I have been wanting to know for quite sometime if my father was still alive or not. The only way I know to do that is by emailing my brother which I really did not want to do. However, last evening, I went to his website and emailed him and asked. I got a response telling me he was still alive.

I found out my mother had passed by stumbling upon a website for my brother. Much to my astonishment, he is some sort of new age guru involved in 'healing families' for a high fee. He has written and published books on this subject too.

You are probably thinking somewhat similar thoughts to those I have on this subject. I have kept his mail to me in 94 and in 05. The person evident in those mails does not match up at all with his 'job'.

Memory Foam

Today I am having a memory foam mattress delivered. Hopefully it will help my sleep. We were lucky. We popped into the shop, not realising it was a quality shop for a start and also not realising they were having an opening sale. We got a very good price on the mattress.

I didn't think about it until a few minutes ago, but with John not here, I shall be sleeping on a bare mattress tonight! I can't make the bed. 6ft by 6ft 6" I shall be fine, just throw the duvet over me.

This morning I was awoken by next door drilling in their walls! It was 5.30am. I laid there cursing them but as I became more awake I realised it was Nechung snoring!!!!! She sleeps on the bed. She is just over 9" tall, is 10.5 yrs old and has a very loud snore.

My swim went very well today. When I first got up I felt like a truck had hit me and I wondered if I would go swimming. However, 40 minutes later, after the drugs had time to work, I felt fine and in fact I swam my mile in 47 minutes instead of 55 and I was not going faster intentionally. It just didn't hurt so much.

My next show is in Edinburgh. I will go the day before and sleep with my friend Linda in Hartlepool. I couldn't do it otherwise as it 365 miles from my home. I think it is the 3rd weekend in May.

That Day

During my 'dark night of the soul' the very worst time was one Tuesday. I had awoken in agony. In every way. I physically was very ill and emotionally I was dying. I was very afraid. I could barely walk. I felt I was going to die. Explode. I could feel this 'thing' inside of me, buried in my gut and I felt like this monster was going to burst through my solar plexus. Just like in that film Alien. I have never before, nor since, felt as near to disappearing as I did that day.

I found myself in my bedroom, rolling around on the floor, clutching my guts, crying out in a voice that seemed foreign and animal like. (Just writing this makes me want to cry again.) I felt like I was at the end. This was it. I was finally losing my mind. At last, the very thing I feared all my life, though all the abuse, was about to happen. Colin was going to disappear. He would blow into a million pieces and never ever be able to put me back together again. He was about to cross that line. He was about to enter the place from which there was no return.

I cried out: 'If you f***ing well love me, then show me NOW!!!!'

A calm came upon me. My breathing slowed, my heart stopped racing, the animal noises stopped, the pain stopped. I reached for the phone and I called my friend of 30 years. She answered immediately.

Without explanation, she knew who it was and she spoke to me as if I were a child. Then the thing I was so afraid of happened, but it wasn't what I expected. What burst forth from my gut was all the pain I had felt and crushed down inside me. Every blow, every cruel word, every humiliation, every fear, every drop of shame, all my desolation, all my grief, all of it, all that muck and grime and filth, all of it came pouring out. And it hurt. It hurt worse than I thought was possible to survive. I cried more than I thought was possible to cry and live. (I understood later why healing does not happen all at once.) The 'alien' inside me, in my gut, my solar plexus, was the pain I had carried all those years. The pain I swallowed and did not show or feel. How could I? I had no one to comfort me then, to help me then. I was alone. I had no choice.

Through all of this, my friend spoke soothing words to me, she comforted me as if I were still that desolate afraid child. She told him how much he was loved and how he had not deserved any of that and how it was not his fault and how he was now safe and could let it all go.

Now, several months later, I am free of that weight. I am not free of my past. I am what my past has made me. I am happy with that. I am happy with me. I am not afraid of my past. I am not the monster I feared I was. I am not unlovable. I am not to blame. I am free. FREE. I still have the ways of coping to deal with, even though I no longer need them. OCD behaviours, food issues, have not disappeared. How could they? The difference is I now have the wherewithal, the strength, the understanding to resist the urge to self harm in any of the multitude of ways I had of coping. I also do not have all that pent up pain fuelling my every waking moment.

My sleep is pretty much peaceful, free from night terrors, free from action replays of my past. My mind is not exhausted from the effort of repression and suppression. My body is better without the physical weight but is still diseased. I could not expect anything else. My body has been through an awful lot. It is a wonder I still have one.

My mind is clearer and freer. I have learned to be gentle with myself. To stop running. I will never be as if I hadn't had the life I had. I will always have to take care of me, will always have to be aware of stress and how easily stressed I become. I will always be fragile yet strong.

My compassion and understanding of others, including those who abused me, has grown. I am much more aware of the pain of others, including those who abused me. I do not excuse those who abused me. Nor do I say it is okay or understandable or that it doesn't matter. It matters. It took 50 years of my life. However, I understand that they too suffer and suffered. I also understand that I don't need to hold them to account-that is too heavy a burden for me. One day they will come face to face with themselves. I am happy to leave it at that.

During the few months that I was going through this clear out, I went to church much more often that I normally did. Every time I went, the medium always spoke to me. Many times the message they gave was one of love and regret from my mother. They were accurate in their detail. Not one of them ever once said that my mother had been a kind and gentle soul. They knew the score and said so. But they spoke of her deep regret at her inability to love me, how it was her inability to love me and not me that was unlovable. She gave details of where she was from, how she died and of her treatment of me. I also had communications from other people I knew who have passed over. Each of them all referred to the anguish I was in, all told me how much I was loved, and that I would survive this agony. I kept receiving the same words over and over and over from different people who knew me not. Eventually I realised that those on the other side truly did know me which is why they kept saying the same thing over and over. They understood I did not trust and they were patient. They loved me. They KNEW me and they knew where I had been.

During this time I was convinced I had cancer. The constant discomfort and sometimes pain my gut was awful. I was too afraid to say so to my Dr. The communications I had kept telling me I was alright, that i was not as ill as I thought, but I was still afraid. One of the mediums even asked me if I knew what IBS was. I said no. Later I was diagnosed with it, and realised I had had it for years, and now I take Colofac for it and end of problem.

NONE of the people who gave communication knew who I was or anything about me. Their words were accurate, detailed and would have been comforting had I been in a different mind frame at the time. But that is precisely why I got all those communications! Because they, meaning Spirit, knew the agony I was in and they showed me that they did exist, that they did care and they did understand.

As It Seems?

If it is true that we survive physical death, then the world is not as we think we know it. Not all. It means that scientists have it wrong.

We have learned, through science, the the world is not as we see it anyway. We only know the world through the filter of our brains and our brains do not give us reality but it's version of it.

I am often stunned by the fact that there are radio waves all around us. That if I turn a radio on, I can hear music or talking or a play or whatever. If I twiddle the knob, I hear different noises. If I did not have the radio,I would not know these 'waves' existed.

My car journeys are often guided by the 'waves' my GPS picks up from the air which are beamed down from outer space.

I see a medium in the same way. We are like radios-we can pick up waves which we ohterwise would not know were there.

The very idea that we survive physical death is ridiculous, I know. It flies against all we are taught to think. How could it be possible? I have yet to come up with another sensible explanation for my own experiences and those of others.

It is unfortunate, I think, that this idea of surviving death is tied up with a belief in God. Many take it as proof that God exists. It is no such thing. It is evidence only we physical death is not the end of the personality. It does not offer any proof or suggestion that there is a God. Believing in life after death is not incompatible with atheism.

Scientists often say that to explain the inexplicable by coming up with another inexplicable explanation - ie. God is plain daft and just creates another question with no answer-who created God?
Yet, the only explanation they have come up with is : there was nothing and suddenly there was a Big Bang and here we are. How can nothing bang?

As I write this I am filled with such a deep longing, an endless awe. Arising in me when ever I ponder the enormity of our universe, of our existence. I cannot fathom it. Nor can you. No one can. We are not equipped to.

Look up at the stars one clear night and think about how far away those lights are. Think about how we are on one planet in one solar system that is in one galaxy that is just one of many billions of galaxies in the universe

Think about how there is no end. Infinity. Impossible to imagine. No end. Nothing beyond, there is no beyond because it doesn't end. If it does end, what is on the other side? There is no other side.

You see how it just boggles the mind?

Is it any wonder that we in our fear create Gods of whom we are afraid and whom we must obey or perish? I can certainly understand how contemplating the sky, the universe, can fill one with fear.

I have come to accept that the questions I have will go unanswered. At least whilst I am in this physical realm. Perhaps forever though I think that if I continue on after my body does, then I shall find out more. (I want to know why birds walk across the road when they can fly.)

Scientists say that those of us who do not accept their view, that there is nothing after physical death, are afraid of the truth, are afraid that this is all there is. Maybe so. yet they too are afraid. They are afraid that their view of the world is wrong. They are afraid that the meanings they have created are wrong. We all fear that. The meanings we create are what enables us to live. If our meaning creations are demolished it is incredibly frightening. It what 'nervous breakdowns' are about. Scientists seem to think they are different. that they are objective. They are not any different to the rest of us. Objectivity is not possible. everything is subjective. We are each completely unable to think outside our brains or other than through the meanings we have created.

Think about it though, if we truly do survive death, it alters everything we know. It means nothing is as it appears to be. It also really means we have nothing to fear even though many of us have been taught that all that awaits us after physical death is suffering.

My Take

I have two possibilities that seem acceptable to me regarding the Jesus story. As always, we must start with the premise he did exist and bear in mind that maybe he did not.

First:

He was a man who knew we survived physical. That we are spiritual beings first and foremost. He was a highly developed medium. He preached this, that we are all children of god, that God dwells within each of us, that we are eternal beings. he went to his physical death knowing he would survive it and that he would appear once again to his followers to prove that death was but an illusion.

Second:

the story is an allegory about good and evil. How the good is always attacked by the bad. The story shows how this happens, why it happens(it is such a threat to those who want the world to stay as it is because they benefit in power and riches). It shows how despite all, good always wins in the end. Good cannot be destroyed and evil has no power.

To me, to say that Jesus was God makes no sense and indeed weakens the whole story so far as to make it worthless. If Jesus was a MAN, an ordinary human being like you and me, the story really packs a punch and is meaningful. If Jesus was God, then it is meaningless because God can do anything and always had choice. Making Jesus God makes a mockery and nonsense of the story to me.

The idea that the death of Jesus was the sacrifice God needed in order to assuage his anger at the sins of people is an abomination to me. What sort of monster is being described here? An egotistical megalomaniac with little regard for the feelings and welfare of others!

In the end we can get bogged down trying to figure these things out. It is always well to bear in mind the context within which we learned of this story. If we were born at another place, in another culture, we would not be pondering this story because it would not be part of the fabric of our society!

It is more important to understand that the real issue is that we are loved unconditionally (including regardless of our beliefs) and through knowing this and understanding this we can let go of fear and thus evil.

Crucifixion

I really enjoy looking inside old churches and cathedrals. I am filled with awe at the artistry and engineering skills I see. It amazes me that people were able to build these, design them, all those centuries ago with none of the modern convenience and instruments etc.

I do not find them holy places at all. I don't feel anything spiritual in them. I feel only fear and cold. My mind is drawn to the pain and anguish of the people these places tortured and killed. Or rather the people who inhabited these places. What these places stood for is an abomination to me.

In St Bavo's (Ghent, Belgium), I was deeply moved by a depiction of a crucifixion. Not because the figure is meant to represent Jesus. I was moved almost to tears, which I stopped, just because I was appalled at the awfulness of such a death. At the awfulness of such an imagination that thought of this. MANY people were crucified, not just this one man. Many people suffered. Not just this man. In fact many people have suffered far far worse fates or more so than this man.

I just don't get why the supposed suffering of Jesus is revered the way it is. It seems sadistic or masochistic to me. (Like wearing a cross or crucifix-how sick is that when seen in the light of people wearing a gun or electric chair round their necks if he had been killed that way.)

From what we know, Jesus grew up with loving kind parents. He was not sexually abused, abandoned, tortured or any of the vile things that others have had to live with. He did not hate himself. He did not have survive a petrified childhood. He met a nasty end- yet it was not as nasty as the ends of millions of others. Like the gypsies, handicapped, gay people and Jews who were killed during the holocaust. (It is understandable if you were not aware that non Jews were sent to the camps and murdered. I once heard a Rabbi suggest that it was wrong to commemorate the deaths of gay people in the camps because by virtue of our sexuality we are sinners and therefore cannot expect better treatment......we deserved it in other words. And people wonder if evil exists? )

So back to this Jesus thing: compared to the suffering of millions of others, he suffered little, if he did indeed die that way. Assuming he lived at all of course.

Today, right now, this very second, as you read this, people are suffering a far worse fate. And millions have suffered far worse fates at hands of so called followers of this man, Jesus. Not just in days long gone but now, this very second, evil is committed in his name.

Excellent Day

I went with three of my dogs to WELKS dog show yesterday, a championship show held in the Malvern Hills. A beautiful setting when the weather is good.

Tantra's Lui was the first in the ring. He is not yet 7months old. I am not sure if he will make a show dog as I haven't yet decided if he is stubborn or really dislikes it. He didn't behave well really. Yet he was 3rd in his class of 10 which qualified him for Cruft's 09.

Tantra's Micah was in post Graduate and he was placed 2nd of 10 which also qualifies him for Cruft's 09.

Tantra's Shameless was 1st of 9 in Junior Bitch. She too qualifies. It is probably her last show this year as by the end of this week I ought to know if she is pregnant or not.

I almost did not enter this show. The judge was Mrs Richardson 0f the world famous Belazieth Kennel. She and her husband have bred 25 or so British champions. Not only do I like their type of Lhasa Apso but I greatly admire them because they have never followed fashion and ALL of their champions descend from their original dog. They know and understand this breed. I was therefore nervous about going under someone I held in such esteem for their knowledge of this breed. I am glad I did.

Fundamental Change

It would seem that my emotional clear out of the last few months of last year has brought about more change than I thought and at a deeper level than I have been aware.

Every time I have been away from home I do not sleep at all well and do not poo. Both of these things combined makes being away very difficult. I get very tired and confused and physically bloated and feel pretty awful.

Last Xmas when we went to Mannheim and spent time with new friends Diana and Lui and Lia, I not only slept each night but pooed too! It was not so easy the first night and I didn't poo for a couple of days but it was much better than it normally was.

This trip to Belgium was entirely without those two problems. I slept well from the first night and my bathroom habits remained normal. Phew!

This tells me that something has changed within me. I think part of that change is feeling more secure. Whatever it is, the change is obvious and shows itself in being able to sleep and have normal gut action when I am not on familiar ground.

Bruge

St. Bavo's Cathedral, Ghent

Back Home

I learned one thing at least whilst away - to ignore weather forecasts! They are about as accurate as the end of the pier psychic.

We left with heavy hearts because both the weather Channel and the BBC forecast cold wet weather for the days we were in Belgium. What we got was bright sunshine and 19-20c (high 60's F) warmth. So glad we did not cancel.I ought to have known really. I have yet to boob when deciding which time period to choose for our trips.

This trip ranks as one of our best. Bruge and Ghent were both beautiful. Bruge was spoilt as it was so obviously a tourist trap. It didn't seem real. Ghent on the other hand was a real, lived in, city. Bruge reminded us both of Carcassone in France which was a huge disappointment. It is an ancient walled city which is now full to bursting with restaurants and souvenir shops and that is it. Bruge was similar.

Facilities were generally good as was access. One annoying disappointment was going to the Design Museum only to discover that there was no access for disabled people at all. On four floors, steep staircases and no lift. I could have left my wheelchair and walked around with my sticks the stairs were just out of the question. The woman on reception was clearly embarrassed and apologised. Surprisingly to me, John gets more annoyed than me about poor treatment of me.

At a restaurant we did have a problem. We walked up to it and the woman clearly did not want us there. She was young about late 30's and she did not speak English to us which was highly unusual. She made it clear that we would not be served outside, even though others were there at the tables eating and she indicated we must eat indoors. That was not feasible with 4 large stone steps to get over. We ate in the restaurant next door.

In another restaurant we had an entirely different experience. We sat at a table outside. My wheelchair would not fit under the table because of the way the table supports were positioned.
(I use my wheelchair to sit on for two reasons-not having to find a spot to store it and also because most other seats cause me pain-especially the wicker ones which most restaurants seemed to have.) Anyway, the owner saw that my wheelchair did not get me close enough to the table for comfort. So this is what he did: he interrupted other diners, made them move so he could haul out a different table under which my chair fit. No one moaned or glared and in fact seemed only too pleased to help. I was flabbergasted, grateful, and yet still felt embarrassed. We then had a lovely meal and a pleasant and amusing chat with the owner all through dinner. It was lovely. We both really enjoy eating outside on the pavement on warmish evenings.

In France at Cite Europe, we came across two UK women in their 60's both in wheelchairs, but motorised. We got chatting and one of the ladies was clearly almost in tears. Not because she was being treated so badly but because she was being treated so well it was a shock to her. She said her treatment in the UK was not like it was there in France. I told her I knew only too well what she meant. Now she would have been really shocked in Germany because the treatment there is even better. Here in the UK we are treated like shit basically. Few facilities, if they exist they are dirty and the general public treat us with disdain and impatience and disgust - assuming they even notice you. The amount of times I have people lean right over me when I am in the chair or who knock me over when on sticks, which is why I am usually in the chair.

Anyway, back to the trip: I did buy some sock yarn, a gorgeous Opal single colour in deep lilac, burnt orange from Bergerre de France and also some marled grey from same. I found the only yarn shop in Ghent. I have a nose for yarn. Germany has lots of good yarn shops. France and Belgium are like the UK-very few.

I also bought a deep purple shirt, a bright blue one and two tapestry waistcoats(vests), for wearing at dog shows. No shoes this time. Boring, boring, boring. Black or brown and if they were not trainers, they looked like trainers. I did find a green pair of shoes and a red pair but neither fit me.

We went inside St Bavo's Cathedral. It was stunning. truly the most artistically beautiful I have seen. John was impressed too though he says St Paul's in London and St Peter's in Rome beat it. I haven't seen either and although St Paul's is close at hand, not accessible to me.

I have loads of pics I will post later.

The house felt so odd when we got home. Empty like a new house feels. Our stuff was all here but the house was empty and cold-no dogs. I find it surprising how much I miss my dogs when I am away. yes, I do enjoy enjoy the break away from responsibility. Being able to do as I wish and not worry about feeding, getting home on time or taking them out or letting them out. Yet I miss them dreadfully and arriving home to a house with no dogs is awful. We went and got them all back as soon as we could. They went nuts. They run around and howl and jump on us, lick us, howl some more. Even Nechung, 10.5yrs old and very snobby, does her dance and howl.

I have more to say but this is long post already so.....

Views of Ghent, Belgium

To Belgium

We are off to Belgium in the morning.

The dogs are all going to our friend, Lorraine, tonight. The house will seem strange with no dogs in it.

Unfortunately, it looks as though the weather is going to be wet. Tried looking elsewhere to see if we could change destination but it would seem the whole of Europe will be wet!

I seem to be having a flare right now. No swimming yesterday and still in a good deal of pain today. Thursday night was awful but last night I slept very well though had trouble getting up this morning. I managed to swing my legs over the edge and the rest sort of followed till I could grab the radiator and haul myself up.

I started another pair of socks -OnLine Beach Collection-wool / cotton mix. I am using only 66 stitches for these and a 2.25mm needle.

I wonder what sock yarn I will see in Belgium. Hopefully something different to the stuff I already have.

Ghent (Gent) and Bruges (Brugge) are really old mediaeval cities so there ought to be plenty to see. Museums and galleries and such and I believe there is an old castle on one of the cities or in both. At least much of what we can see will be under cover should the forecast of rain be right. We both have long grey rain macs which we bought in Trier Germany when we got caught by rain. Trouble is, in my wheelchair or on my sticks, I can't move than quickly to get out of the rain!

As we are only going to be away until Thursday, we won't have to take a lot of clothes, so there won't be much to haul. We intend to do grocery shopping for condiments and coffee. yes, the coffee there is better quality and much much cheaper than here. They do all different types of beans. I am mainly after decaffeinated ready ground as my bean to cup machine takes that too. Decaf for the evening. I want to find a dark roast one. It is hard to find dark roast in decaf. For reason they seem to think decaf should be weak in taste!

Also their condiments are very varied. Like light yoghurt salad dressings. For some reason no one has the wit to sell such stuff here and coffee beans here are about four times the price.

Shopping is very much part of the fun on these trips. For me anyway.

Toe Up Sock Pattern

Yarn: any 4ply / fingering sock yarn. I used Trekking handpainted Tundra.


Needle: 2mm circular needle. I used Hiya Hiya 80cm length.


Tension (gauge) 38sts and 52 rows to 10cm (9.5 spi and 13 rpi)


The size if for my foot which is 25.4 cms (10") long and 23.5 cm (9.25") round the base of toes.


Cast on 25 sts on each needle point, 50 in total, using Judy's Magic Cast On.


Knit one round.
K1 M1 knit to 1 before last st, M1, K1.


Knit 2 rounds.


K2, M1, knit to last two sts, M1, k2


Knit 2 rounds


K3, M1, knit to last 3 sts, M1 K3


Continue thus until you have 39 sts on each needle. (at the beginning an end of each inc round you k 1 more stitch than previous inc round-so on next inc round you k4 before the M1 etc)


After final increase round, knit 2 rounds.


At this point you have knitted 22rounds


Beginning of next round, P3 , K3 to end, ending with P3. Only on first needle(instep sts). Knit only on second needle. So you will ribbing, p3 k3, on only 39sts, the instep sts.


Knit until you have knitted 85 rounds.


On round 86, you knit the ribbing sts and on the sts st section you K3, M1, knit to last 3, M1, K3.


Knit two rounds.


On round 89 knit as round 86.


Continue until you have knit 116 rounds.


On round 117 , knit only the ribbing sts.


On the sts ts (sole) side, knit until 20sts are elft. SSK, K1 and turn. Slip 1 pw, purl until you 20sts left, p2 tog, P1, turn.


Sl 1pw, knit to 1 st before gap, SSK, k1, turn, Sl1 pw, purl to 1st before gap, P2 tog, p1 turn.


Continue thus until you get to the point when you are KNITTING to the end of the row, and you can only SSK. Do that SSK.


Now you are ready to continue to knit on the ribbing side, i.e round 88.


BEFORE you purl those first 3 sts, using the needle tip that holds the ribbing sts, pick up the yarn from between the last two sts on the other needle(sole sts) two rows down. Now purl that pick up with the first stitch of the ribbing sts. Knit in pattern until you reach the sole sts again.


BEFORE you knit the sole sts, use the tip of the needle to pick the yarn strand just a syou did previously. Now knit that pick up with the first two sts on the sole needles, TBL.


Continue to knit the sock int he round, ribbing still only on one needle and the sole sts are plain st.


Do this for 10 rounds.


Continue to knit only when you get to the sole sts, you K3, p3, K3 to end, ending with K3.


Knit for as long as you wish. Use the Elizabeth Zimmerman sewn cast (bind ) off, or cast ( bind) off of your choice.


To make a shorter length foot or narrower foot or tow, remember the gauge and it will be easy.


It is important that you shape the heel 2.5cm (1") from end of foot. So if you alter the length of foot to only 17.7 cm (7" ) you shape your heel at 15.2cms (6 ins).


Also, if you start off with less sts cast on (and you MUST start off with the samee odd number on each needle- ie 19 on each, or 21, or 17 of whatever).


ALWAYS REMEMBER TO COUNT ALL THE ROUNDS AFTER THE CAST ON, INCLUDING THE ROUNDS OF THE INCREASING PORTION.

Appalling Advert

I cannot recall what this poster is advertising. It is one of those huge billboards on the side of the road. It has a a young woman, in sexy pose, clothes not done up properly. What is wrong with that?

Oh, the fact that she is wearing a school uniform!!!!

It is 2008. How can adverts like this still be used? In fact, one often sees adult women dressed provocatively in girls school uniform in newspapers and magazines or on tv.

WHY? Are those responsible really so thick they do not see the clear inference?

Or is it that we, the general public, do not care enough to complain and have these offensive ads/pictures removed?

When are people going to get it through their thick heads that children are not there to be sexualised?

A few years ago I recall an email war over the remake of the film Lolita with Jeremy Irons. I was astounded at the number of people, mainly men but not all, who blamed Lolita!

No matter how provocative a girl or boy is towards an adult, even if they make it clear they want sex, it is up to the adult to SAY NO!!!! If the adult doesn't, they are guilty of abuse. It really is that simple.

There is a situation like this going on in Neighbours right now where a female student is laying it on heavy with a teacher who she is in love with. The teacher has been grossly criminal in that he has allowed himself to give in to her. Yes, she is doing the running. However, he is the adult and the one with the power and no matter what this girl does, it is his duty to SAY NO!!!!