Satan in Cromer: the true story and the storm

Alfred and Dora Smith, who had just taken possession of a solid gold powder compact,  bought from  dear old Stan  on the beach  ,went down to Cromer so  Dora could go to Boots, She wanted a new and more suitable shade of pressed powder to put into the compact.
Satan was getting cheesed off as Dora had the compact shut away in her handbag of purple and red leather with a yellow strap.Since she otherwise dressed entirely in black the vivid colours did not seem quite so dreadful.Some might call them post modern
You may disagree, but I believe a coloured leather handbag is a definite must for any woman nowadays.Where else can one hid one’s log tables,kindle reader,tampons, set squares,kleenex,rulers,pens and other female items not to mention lipstick and other vital items?
Satan ,not being divine.did not know where Alf and Dora were off to but he was hoping that he might get a peep somewhere.Maybe in the ladies loo in some pub or other,hopefully one full of women of an intriguing type with French underwear worn as outerwear in the late style of Madonna.Little did he know of the ladies of North Norfolk
Inside Boots,Dora found the Boots Number 7 beauty counter and selected some compressed powder in  a color called vanilla rose beige.Since everything was 3 for 2 she bought some lavender mascara and some pink coral moisturised lipstick.After paying the bill,she and Alf ran outside as they felt poorly
My,it’s as hot as hell in there,Dora cried.Satan was pleased to hear that but he had no idea where they were but felt he was near home.
Alf suggested a walk down the pier to get some fresh air.

Facing directly North, Cromer pier is wide open to the pure winds from Siberia… but today a SW wind was blowing and despite a black cloud looming the day was bright and warm for winter in England
As the game, old but vital couple reached the end of the pier and turned to look at the North Norfolk coast line they regretted not wearing their Harris tweed coats.. a strange chill came over England that afternoon…. a hint of evil darkened the air with menace.David Cameron must have been up there in Burnham Market where the rich and sinful  have holiday homes.
Shall we sit down for a minute, said Alf to his stunningly made up wife.
You sit down,I am going to look at the sea.Dora said sweetly
Dora stood at the edge of the pier looking,at the waves crashing below… and above too!
She wondered how her new short hair style was standing up to the weather and on an impulse she opened her bag and took out the gold compact so she could use the mirror to check.
Holding it n her left hand she flicked it open expertly at an angle of precisely 60 degrees.
Who was more surprised…Satan,who rarely saw faithfully married,virtuous British women, or Dora who had never before seen a demons,let alone Satan,I leave to your imagination.
Dora gave a loud shriek and threw the compact overarm high above and over the metal railings.Being solid gold it sank gently to the sea bed amongst the pearls and coral and a few suicidal  people’s  remains.
Alf,Alf,she called..raucuously
What is it, my pet?
There was some fiend in that mirror.What a sight! I am afraid I have accidentally bowled it overarm it into the sea.Like you showed me  to when we were  playing cricket
You stupid twit.I paid £500 for that.I broke the bank
Did you really?You are so sweet.I wonder if we should call 999? Dora called
I doubt if they could dive into the cold sea…for a powder compact.Alf replied
How about for the poor devil inside it? she continued.
Suddenly a heavy storm,one might say a hurricane blew up and the  stout couple were almost washed away by rain and giant waves which ran into the air on either side of the pier.Clinging to each other they stumbled towards the promenade some distance back.
Let’s go and have some tea and muffins,suggested Alf  thoughtfully.
Suddenly the sea swept onto the promenade and for a moment it seemed as if the two old folk would be washed away but luckily they were both very obese and their weight anchored them to the ground as well as their heavy rubber boots
Well,it’s not quite what we expected,but somehow I am relieved.Dora said
I was nervous about owning such a luxury item.I feel I am addicted to Max Factor Pancake makeup in plastic compacts she prattled merrily as Oxbridge educated folk like to do especially if they did PPE like our Prime Minister
Alf was dozing and in his mind he saw a host of pancakes with little faces each wearing full makeup
How can I eat these,he muttered.They seem like human beings… they look quite charming.His head fell back and he began to snore loudly
Dora was happy enough watching canoes go by carrying people along the promenade and into the old town.What a dear place Cromer is,she thought,as the lifeboat passed the cafe window full of terrified people..What a dear old place to live in.Why would anyone want to live inlan

What a pain, the Canon camera which can’t be charged via a USB cord

Gaza demonstration 2018.From a newspaper [ not noted]

I must have got at least two of the special chargers but after nor using them for a while I decided to get another [rather than wreck the house].
As a mathematician would ,I ordered the wrong size,But the charger  is good for another item I own.Then of course I found the original one and wondered why I  had bothered!I must be too obsessional.It’s ok in small quantities

Killing of an old French priest



Against  sadness:no-one here must weep
Nor lounge  about in melancholy deep
Was Van Gogh senseless to permit  his muse.
For  even masterpieces  ,was the price too steep?
We see the yellow chair  but not his views
Nor his  mind where technique made strange leaps.
Nor was his journey broadcast on the news.
Against sadness.

Happiness  or joy is hard to find
When we rest, the News preys on our minds
Yet some are  cold  towards the slaughtered priest
His nose a beak of bone  in old  face   lined
Now Muslims go to Mass and join Christ’s feast
Against sadness.

What rages in the mind make men  kill thus?
In Syrian wars  the  innocents fare worse.
But these are our near neighbours so we weep
And wonder how to end the  frightening curse
The sins we once committed hold us deep
We  hold our hands out wanting to be nursed
Against sadness

Where the soldiers strike

Why is sadness   labelled a mistake?
Should we grin and cheer as war planes fly?
Look out at this world and meditate

The children,human shields,innacurate
The mothers,  fathers,cousins also die
Why is sadness   labelled a mistake?

Our boundary is where  the soldiers strike
We must stay in prison starved and dry
Look out at the world and meditate


The enemy is what we need, so fake.
Wars bring  a cohesion, a false might
Why is sadness   ever a mistake?

We are human ,how to indicate?
Why  not raise our eyes to see the Light
Look long at the sky and meditate

As a baby’s born, we hear her cry
“Let me live in peace as your ally”
Why is women weeping a mistake?
Look at warring states and meditate


Anxiety can be part of grieving



“When we lose someone we love, we are thrust into a world where we feel more vulnerable than ever before. Suddenly we must face the fact that there are absolutely no guarantees in life. Everything that once seemed sturdy is now fragile, particularly the people we love. These feelings can be incredibly overwhelming and oftentimes terrifying. It takes time and work to overcome them, to feel secure again in such a now-delicate world. And for people who suffer multiple losses in a short period of time, it can take even longer.

The anxiety that comes with grief can be debilitating, but because it is not included in Kübler-Ross’ five stages, it tends to be ignored or dismissed as a different problem altogether. However, anxiety is a very real and very normal reaction to grief and it must be recognized. It is also highly treatable once it is distinguished for what it is.

There is a wonderful and unexpected gift that comes with seeing how fragile our lives are. It enables us to be more present, to feel grateful for what is right in front us, to cherish what we are able to hold onto right here, right now. But in order to reach that level of acceptance we must wade through the tremulous waters of fear and anxiety, recognizing them as a part of a larger process that will see us through to a shore where so many of us have emerged changed, if not healed.”

13 Habits of Ridiculously Prolific Writers — A Writer’s Path by Meg Dowell

by Meg Dowell Sometimes, writing less leads to deeper, more creative thinking. Have you ever wondered how some writers manage to write thousands of words every day — while you can barely squeeze out 500 words after an hour of trying (and failing) to focus? How do so many successful writers publish so […]

via 13 Habits of Ridiculously Prolific Writers — A Writer’s Path

From Paul to Martin Luther King

pexels-photo-261763.jpegI  think this is very interesting and a very creative blog post whether you are a Christian or belong to another Faith or are an atheist or agnostic

Martin Luther King’s letter from the apostle Paul: two revolutionaries


MLK’s letter from Paul

I, an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God, to you who are in America, Grace be unto you, and peace from God our Father, through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

For many years I have longed to be able to come to see you. I have heard so much of you and of what you are doing. I have heard of the fascinating and astounding advances that you have made in the scientific realm. I have heard of your dashing subways and flashing airplanes. Through your scientific genius you have been able to dwarf distance and place time in chains. . . . All of that is marvelous. You can do so many things in your day that I could not do in the Greco-Roman world of my day. In your age you can travel distances in one day that took me three months to travel. That is wonderful. You have made tremendous strides in the area of scientific and technological development.

But America, as I look at you from afar, I wonder whether your moral and spiritual progress has been commensurate with your scientific progress. It seems to me that your moral progress lags behind your scientific progress. Your poet Thoreau used to talk about “improved means to an unimproved end.” How often this is true. You have allowed the material means by which you live to outdistance the spiritual ends for which you live. You have allowed your mentality to outrun your morality. You have allowed your civilization to outdistance your culture. Through your scientific genius you have made of the world a neighborhood, but through your moral and spiritual genius you have failed to make of it a brotherhood. So, America, I would urge you to keep your moral advances abreast with your scientific advances. . . .

American Christians, I must say to you as I said to the Roman Christians years ago, “Be not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind.” Or, as I said to the Philippian Christians, “Ye are a colony of heaven.” This means that although you live in the colony of time, your ultimate allegiance is to the empire of eternity. You have a dual citizenry. You live both in time and eternity; both in heaven and earth. Therefore, your ultimate allegiance is not to the government, not to the state, not to nation, not to any man-made institution. The Christian owes his ultimate allegiance to God, and if any earthly institution conflicts with God’s will it is your Christian duty to take a stand against it. You must never allow the transitory evanescent demands of man-made institutions to take precedence over the eternal demands of the Almighty God. . . .

The misuse of capitalism can also lead to tragic exploitation. . . . God never intended for one group of people to live in superfluous inordinate wealth, while others live in abject deadening poverty. God intends for all of his children to have the basic necessities of life, and he has left in this universe “enough and to spare” for that purpose. So, I call upon you to bridge the gulf between abject poverty and superfluous wealth.

I would that I could be with you in person, so that I could say to you face to face what I am forced to say to you in writing. Oh, how I long to share your fellowship.  But I must bring my writing to a close now. Timothy is waiting to deliver this letter, and I must take leave for another church.

But just before leaving, I must say to you, as I said to the church at Corinth, that I still believe that love is the most durable power in the world. Over the centuries men have sought to discover the highest good. This has been the chief quest of ethical philosophy. This was one of the big questions of Greek philosophy. The Epicurean and the Stoics sought to answer it; Plato and Aristotle sought to answer it. What is the summon bonum of life? I think I have an answer America. I think I have discovered the highest good. It is love. This principle stands at the center of the cosmos. As John says, “God is love.” He who loves is a participant in the being of God. He who hates does not know God. . . .

So, American Christians you may master the intricacies of the English language.  You may possess all of the eloquence of articulate speech.  But even if you “speak with the tongues of men and angels, and have not love, you have become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.”

So the greatest of all virtues is love. It is here that we find the true meaning of the Christian faith. This is at bottom the meaning of the cross. . . .It is an eternal reminder to a power drunk generation that love is most durable power in the world, and that it is at bottom the heartbeat of the moral cosmos. . . .

I must say goodbye now. I hope this letter will find you strong in the faith. It is probable that I will not get to see you in America, but I will meet you in God’s eternity. And now unto him who is able to keep us from falling, and lift us from the fatigue of despair to the buoyancy of hope, from the midnight of desperation to the daybreak of joy, to him be power and authority, forever and ever. Amen.

Social policy and love

What would Paul’s love look like today?  Or MLK’s?  We are a mass society, not a koinonia.  The love we need is social love: housing for the homeless, food for the hungry, education for all who long to know, health care for every American (no, for every person in America), protection from racists and bullies.  I could go on, but you get the idea: love can be a guideline for social policy if we let it.


I heard one of MLK’s last sermons and spoke with him briefly.  He knew his death would come soon.

Poems about identity



“Identity – who we are, where we come from, how we perceive ourselves and how others see us – has long been a theme of poetry. “I am! yet what I am none cares or knows,” wrote the poet John Clare during his 22-year incarceration in the Northampton General Lunatic Asylum – the first line of one of the most powerful meditations on identity in the language. To celebrate National Poetry Day, schools, libraries, universities and literary societies around the country are asking people to suggest and discuss the poems they love that engage with issues of selfhood, so not to be left out, I say let’s join in and do the same on Culture Vulture.

For my money, the best poem on the subject is WH Auden’s In Memory of WB Yeats, which unites issues of personal and literary identity, and explores the question of the extent to which authors can identify themselves with their work.

“For him it was his last afternoon as himself,” says Auden of Yeats’ dying day,

An afternoon of nurses and rumours; The provinces of his body revolted, The squares of his mind were empty, Silence invaded the suburbs, The current of his feeling failed; he became his admirers.

Now he is scattered among a hundred cities And wholly given over to unfamiliar affections, To find his happiness in another kind of wood And be punished under a foreign code of conscience. The words of a dead man Are modified in the guts of the living.

The brilliance of Auden’s poem, for me, is that not only does he raise these fundamental questions in some of the most fervent, lyrical lines I’ve come across in poetry, he also uses his poem to enact the point he is making. The poem is divided into three sections, and in the third, Auden pays ringing tribute to Yeats in lines that have an unmistakably Yeatsian flavour. The two poets merge for a moment on the page, identity becomes fluid, and Yeats comes alive again through Auden’s lines. It’s a heartstopping poem: I highly recommend you give yourselves a Poetry Day treat and read it.

Retaliation and revenge


“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”

― Confucius

I see that in politics we never heed this common sense.War begets war.Neither side sees the other point of view
And many of us are too cowardly to refrain from attacking someone who  has hurt us,possibly by accident or  lack of thought
We know we sometimes offend people but excuse it by saying we were tired or stressed but if they hurt us we assume it is intentional and deliberate.
And of course,once the revenge hits, there will be another attack.Look at the Middle East today if you can bear to.

New English words related to the internet




 nounused in the subject line of emails to warn people that they will soon lose their connection to the Internet

access number

 nounthe telephone number that is used to connect to an Internet service provider

account name

 nounthe name of a user on a network or Internet system


 nouncomputing a series of lettersnumbers, and symbols that show you where to find a particular website on the Internet

anonymous FTP

 nounanonymous file transfer protocol: a set of rules for moving computer files from one computer to another, especially over the Internet, without having to say who you are or use a password

blind certificate

 nouna way of checking who has visited a company’s website that shows the user’s system but not his or her name


 nounthe imaginary place on the Internet where people’s blogs go so that other people can read them and react to them


type of radio technology that makes it possible for electroniccommunication to exist between mobile phones, the Internet, and computers


 nouncomputing an electronic way of marking an Internet website so that you can easily find it again


 adjectivea Boolean search is one using the words ‘and’, ‘or’, and ‘not’ to find a word or combination of words using an Internet search engine. For example you could ask to search for ‘car or automobile’, or ‘New York and not New York state’.

Boolean operator

 nounword such as ‘and’, ‘or’, or ‘not’ used in a Boolean search on the Internet

bounce rate

 nounmeasurement of the number of people who leave a website after they lookat only one page


 nountype of connection to the Internet that allows you to receive or send a lot of information very quickly


 nouncomputing a computer program that allows you to look at and search through information on the Internet


 nounthe activity of looking at websites on the Internet in no particular order


 nouna system in which a remote computer calls back the computer that has just called its number when trying to connect to the Internet, so that only the correct person can use the Internet

certificate authority

 nouna computer or company on the Internet that provides or checks digital certificates to prove that a company is who it claims it is

chat room

 nounan area on the Internet or a computer network where people can exchange messages

click rate

 nounthe number of times a website is visited in a particular period of time


 nounthe series of clicks of a computer mouse that someone makes when they look at websites on the Internet


IMG_0247I never knew what this meant.It is when two people are in a relationship and one decides  to end it then never ever replies to any phone call,letter or email from their former loved one.
.It happened to a friend.One text message after a 12 year relationship.Mind you my friend was very  hot tempered! Still she soon got a new man and seems very happy.If you have children it is harder to ghost the other parent unless you emigrate to Antarctica.Or get diagnosed as an adult autistic like some mathematicians.Then they may understand why you were hard to relate  to.A lot of people on the autistic spectrum are happily married.We just need to find the right person.

We want to love, be taken by surprise


The point of living is to feel alive
Not caged by too high walls or steely fence.
We want to love, be taken by surprise.

Our wounded mangled self we can’t deride,
Recalling fights and struggles lived through once.
The point of living is to feel alive.

We dither to and fro in puzzled ways
We feel the anguish, still and quite intent.
We want to love, be taken by surprise.

The self’s spontaneous, not a thing contrived;
Formed with love and hate,with all intense.
The rage of living is to be alive.

When washed away by feelings glad, immense
That cross our borders without our lament
The hope, the need of living is our life
We want to give and take, yet fear surprise.

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