Mary went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror.She no longer feared to see Satan, as compared to many living and dead human beings he seemed almost an angel.
Her hair was standing on end and she realised that it was one thing to buy a box of 24 combs from Amazon but quite another to use one.
Ah, well, Stan preferred it wild, she told herself.But that was a long time ago.It was no longer thick and wavy.That stopped men singing,”O Sole Mio” when she passed them while they were painting the outside of a neighbour’s house.They probably didn’t know what it meant and neither did she.
Why am I looking into the mirror, she wondered? Maybe I am lonesome.But who to visit?Who to invite for tea?
Emile pushed the door open.
Are you alright, mother, he mewed?
I am not your mother, Emile, she said to her little cat, being overly pedantic about every aspect of human life.
Ok,grandma,he continued.I see the Yodel van outside. He probably has something fo you or me.
Now, Emile, I’ve told you before you can call me Mary even if I am your grandmother.
Who was my mother, he asked?Did you adopt me?
Your mother was my mother’s cat “Arabella Stuart”.We called her Bella.Your father was a total mystery.
Presumably a cat, Emile pondered.
Why, did you think it was an animal of another type?
How about Stan.Was he my dad?
In a metaphorical sense, she murmured shyly.He loved you very much.And so do I.
When we watched the dreadful news on TV I was wondering if any animals had been killed by the fire.Nobody has said.I doubt if they would keep dogs up there but cats might have been allowed.
Oh,dear, I admit I have not thought of that.It was so terrible seeing people waving from their windows holding their phones.Saying, I love you to their parents or children.And now the Chancellor says it is illegal here to use that aluminium cladding.
I bet he is going to try to oust Theresa May, Emile told her.
You men, you only think of one thing! Politics and fighting.And sex and hot sinners.
Do you mean dinners, that cat asked her?\
No , hot sinners are harlots.
But how do we know it is a sin.To cats it is normal.
I don’t know.The word sin is no longer heard as it is not politically correct/
Whereas letting 58 people burn to death is politically correct as long as we don’t call it sinful.And all the others will be sick for years.
My God, you are getting clever, Emile,maybe you should run the country!
And so say all of us
Day: June 18, 2017
Theresa May affect Ireland badly
CHRISTOPHER LAMB
VATICAN CITY
The British Prime Minister’s plan to govern with support from Northern Ireland’s Democratic Unionist Party risks re-opening sectarian divisions in Ireland which diplomatic sources say now puts a question mark over Pope Francis’ planned visit to the country.
Following the UK general election last week, which delivered a hung parliament, Theresa May has said she wants to strike a deal with the DUP, a right-wing Protestant party in favour of union between Northern Ireland and Great Britain.
But experts say her move threatens Northern Ireland’s peace agreement that requires the British and Irish governments to act as impartial mediators between unionists and Irish republicans in the north, who are mainly Catholic.
Critics point out that if Mrs May requires the DUP’s support to govern in Westminster then she will be compromised in her role as an “honest broker,” with mediation sorely Northern Ireland given its parliamentary assembly is suspended due to disputes between the DUP and Sinn Féin, the republican party.
In a sign of rising tensions Enda Kenny, the Irish Prime Minister, phoned Mrs May yesterday to express his concern over her alliance with the DUP and that it could jeopardise the 1998 Good Friday Agreement which brought peace to the north.
Known as “The Troubles’, sectarian disputes in Northern Ireland have strong religious undertones with Catholic and Protestant communities set against each other. It saw decades of violence, terrorism and atrocities committed by both sides including by the UK security forces.
For its part, the DUP has been the driving political force for Protestant unionists. It was founded by the Reverend Dr Ian Paisley who described the Pope as “the anti-christ” and once interrupted John Paul II’s 1988 speech to the European parliament.
Long running tensions between Catholics and Protestants meant that when Pope John Paul II visited Ireland in 1979 he was unable to travel north of the border.
In August of next year, however, Pope Francis plans to be in Dublin for the World Meeting of Families and it is believed he wants to travel to Northern Ireland. This would allow him to highlight has largely been a successful peace process that chimes with the aims of his papacy.
But he risks flying into a highly polarised political situation in Ireland which could see two jurisdictions at loggerheads. On the one hand the British government and the DUP in the north, and on the other Irish government which may need Sinn Féin’s to govern in the south.
Tensions in the north have already been exacerbated by Brexit, a decision raises the possibility of a hard border between Ireland – part of the European Union – and Northern Ireland which will be leaving the bloc along with the rest of the United Kingdom. A re-imposition of an old border hails back to the highly contested partition of Ireland in 1921 and which was only meant as a temporary measure. For its part, the DUP had campaigned in favour of Brexit while the late Dr. Ian Paisley saw the EU was a plot to allow the Pope to dominate Europe.
To make matters worse, Francis will be visiting Ireland during August, the traditional marching season of Protestant groups where victories over Catholics are celebrated.
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May and Ireland
That, who or which
http://blog.oxforddictionaries.com/2012/09/that-who-which/
Conversely, is it OK to use which or that as a relative pronoun to refer to a person? In the past, which was often used in this way. If you were brought up in the Anglican Church, as I was, you might be familiar with the wording of the Lord’s Prayer as it appears in the 1662 edition of the Book of Common Prayer:
Our Father, which art in heaven…
When I recited the prayer as a child in the 1960s, I often wanted to say ‘who’ rather than ‘which’ – it seemed more natural to use who because we were talking about a person [Father], not a thing. In fact, had our parish priest used the 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer, I would have encountered the more recent wording:
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Definition of paradigm
“Angels ever fair and bright” Handel
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To dwell on earth is all I wish.
A map’s a guide to find a world
Knitted by angels, plain or pearled,
And though you need a map as guide,
Keep your own eyes open wide.
I spent a year caught in a map
Until I found a big enough gap
I crawled out through this exit slit,
So here I am, like some half wit
Words can act like heroin,
You live so high, where I have been.
But onto earth, I gladly fall.
The air the sun the rain is all.
My senses are my lovers long-
My ears, my eyes, my skin, my tongue.
The winds caress my naked flesh,
To dwell on earth is all I wish.
I’ll live with mice and birds and plants,
I’ll share my food with miscreants
I’ll keep my words inside a tin,
And only, now and then, go in.
I’ll live with cats and spiders three.
And like a wildflower grow quite free.
I’ ll give my words to those who hear,
And eventually, I’ll disappear
Earth to earth then ash to ash
When soaked with rain, I shall disperse.
My atoms wing like butterflies,
And to the Flower, I’ll fly, disguised
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Tick your preference
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Let’s live again until we die
When first I saw your soulful face,
I wished to feel your sweet embrace.
I wished as well to clothe you in
The sacred images within.
To find a home for love without;
To fold my dreams all round about;
Your loving body and your face
Were covered in such joy and grace.
I find my dreams were cast aside;
The world of meaning denied life.
What seemed most precious now is fled…
And I lie sleepless in my bed.
What is the world when unadorned
With all, that in my heart, I’ve formed?
There is no meaning I can trace.
As in a mother’s empty face.
On these grey rocks , my path is hard.
From paradise, my self is barred.
To struggle or to grief succumb,
When this dark day of mourning’s done?
Into His dazzling darkness dart
My dreams and love like dying sparks.
Into His Mystery so fair.
I’ll cast both hope and my despair.
Thus my dreams will be transformed
To show themselves in other forms.
What feels a loss may foretell growth.
On my hope ,I’ll take an oath.
That nothing in my life is waste;
That I have not for phantasms chased.
And you are human,as am I.
Let’s live again until we die
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Where once we enjoyed many songs all gay
“The end is nigh” those preachers used to say
To scare us into being born again
I have a hunch they may be right today
We’re coming to the Final Act , there’s no replay
This Play is ending, ladies, gentlemen
“The end is nigh” those preachers used to say
Where once we enjoyed many songs all gay
Now we listen fearful for Big Ben
I have a hunch the end may be today
Someone may be made to pay
But it’s too late to put the lid back on.
“The end is nigh” those preachers used to say
Let our politicians stay or die
They churned us up like food processors make scones
I have a hunch the end may be today
This neo-liberal fantasy made claims
That free markets would make the biggest gains
“The end is nigh” those preachers used to say
I have a hunch they may be right today
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For willed control spoils what it hopes to find
I want to live and feel I am alive
The carelessness of politicians fills my mind
In a better state, my writing thrives
What actions I can take, I shall decide
When all the thoughts inside my head unwind
I want to live and feel I am alive
Like little fish, my thoughts should slowly glide
But they have stuck and wound me in their bind
In a better state, my writing thrives
My focus tightened up, I need it wide
Else my thinking will be dim and blind
I want to live and feel I am alive
Relaxation is a better guide
For willed control spoils what it hopes to find
In a better state, my writing thrives
Can the poor relax and trust in God?
[A metaphor for what we can’t speak of]
I want to live and feel I am alive
In a better state, my writing thrives
How my heart sings 