On Monday morning Stan had to go to the shops in the centre of town to buy some special easy threading needles for his visually-other wife Mary.Somehow,most puzzlingly,she had lost all of the eight packs he had bought for her in the last year.He had suggested letting his mistress next door do the hemming and stitching.But Mary was determined even though sometimes she took 14 minutes just to thread a needle.But she was very patient.One might almost say she was saintly but he did not want her to get conceited so he kept his thoughts to himself. Now what will I wear.Stan thought over-anxiously.. People no longer dress up to go down town instead they dress down to go up to the town,in a very real sense. The art of living is to choose the most simple solution to any problem and Stan recalled he only had some navy trousers,some white and a few coloured shirts and one light teal colored jacket. He chose a coral coloured shirt and looked in the mirror.. I look wonderful, he thought very humbly. Why has God kept me so youthful? Surely not so I can seduce more women? We know God may be merciful to scissors,or is it sinners?Well,let’s just say God can be merciful but for some reason,we never know till it’s too late whether it’s to us. More haste,less speed,he conjectured. Or is it, More paste,guests feed? He stood in the hall combing his hair with a tortoiseshell comb and brushing it with a large nail brush He looked again at his image. His amber eyes glowed like neon lights on the main road to Knittingham in winter. His dark hair looked very full for his age. His teal jacket had been well pressed by the dry cleaner, Jacob Weissmann. And his coral shirt was new as Mary had been out buying him more clothes lately.She had grown tired of seeing him in one solid color,especially grey or brown. His navy trousers were a bit old but quite alright for Knittingham. As he gazed into the mirror he began to feel odd.Then he saw Emile who was standing on the chest of drawers behind him performing a dance.. solo! Why are you dancing,Emile? Stan asked politely. I am amused by seeing you gazing into the mirror for so long, If you don’t hurry it will be lunchtime before you get to the Needle Shop. Alright,growled Stan hoarsely.At least I don’t wear make up! Now there’s a thought…maybe I’d look better…what shade of foundation would suit me?Would I need lip balm and perfume? Hurry up,said Emile unkindly.More taste less greed. What does that mean?asked Stan. If you taste the food and eat slowly you will enjoy it more and thus need less. Very clever,Emile.Shall I buy you some cough sweets in the pet shop. No,I want some codeine linctus,Emile answered. I want to go high,high. I want to reach the sky. what will I do when my love is away Will I be happy on my own? Lend me your ear and I’ll sing you a song I’ll try not to sing out of tune! My God,Emile.Whatever has happened to you? I blame the old chalk and opium medicine someone spilled on my breakfast. Well,go and lie down but drink some milk first.At last Stan got out…it had taken him two hours to get ready At the bus stop there stood Anne their neighbour. Hi,Stan,where are you going. I’m buying sewing needles for Mary. I can lend her some,she shrieked. Well,she has to use special ones nowadays. Oh,so she does.I forget as she looks normal but is in fact suffering constant trouble since her Vitreous-vasectomy.. or was it hysterectomy or vivacity?. Well,never mind.You know she’s not normal. Who is normal? Let’s just assume we will recognize it when we see it,he whispered warningly. This bus is very late.I wish there was a proper seat here..my knees hurt. I hate this plastic seat.Why has the wooden one gone? Apparently the council are afraid of homeless people sleeping on them. Well,everybody is at risk of homelessness with this economic crisis, Anne shouted in a fury. No,beggars can’t be losers,he responded. Very true,she replied, As they have nothing so they can’t lose it.The more you have,the more you fear losing it. This bus is very,very late,I wish I had a horse or is it an horse? A goat would be o.k.Speed bonny goat like a word someone flung.. Over the page to Fly.Anne burst out laughing so her face was as red as her coat from Artigiano.Her blue tights were a perfect contrast and also matched her lipstick uncannily.Where she bought it was a mystery. At last the bus came.They got on board and the driver called out, You both look very merry! Too many looks create more wrath,Stan replied warningly. Well, why dress up if you want no attention.the driver gloated. Hello,darling, he said to Anne,Are you free tonight,babe? Why? she murmured. I have two tickets for the Rolling Stones and no woman to take! he replied boastfully. Now,if it were the Rolling Bones,I might be interested. Your wish is my command he muttered, I have my smart phone here,I’ll see what’s one elsewhere. He kept trying but the virtual keyboard was playing up again. Eventually the passengers got annoyed and asked him to start the bus. As I’m half an hour late,I should be coming back now so I’ll do a U turn and go back But we want to go into town,every one howled. There’s many a blue word spoken as a jest,sang the driver. Stan said,Please open the door,we shall dismount here. Crikey,you don’t half talk posh,said the ,driver. He leaned over and gave Anne a French kiss. Now look here,Stan said,leave her alone.She’s my mistress. Cor blimey said the driver,who are you,King Henry the Eighth? I say,Stan,I can see Mary.It must be tea time. Stan ran into the house and put the kettle on..then he made a pot of tea. Hello! said Mary. Did you get my needles,Stan? I’m so sorry,Mary.I ‘ve had such a busy day,I never got into the town. And where is my supper. In the womb of time I see,it’s chick pea dahl and brown rice again or egg on toast. But I’m not complaining.Keeping house is a big job.I know it only to well. So they sat with Anne and Emile,who even had his own cup and saucer now.They were weary and soon ,despite the tea, they were all fast asleep. Like you.
Religion as Poetic Truth
A lightly edited transcript of an impromptu talk by Mark F. Sharlow
How much truth is there in the religions of the world? How many of their beliefs are true? Before trying to answer that question, I’d like to mention an example that shows how intricate the question of truth can sometimes be. Think about poetry. The poet Carl Sandburg once wrote a poem titled “Fog,” in which he used these lines: The fog comes on little cat feet. Now, is Sandburg’s statement true or not? When you think about the fog coming in over a coastline, as in Sandburg’s poem, do you find those lines true? The answer to that question could be “no,” because there are no cat feet on the fog – no matter how hard you look under the fog, you won’t find cat feet. Or the answer could be “yes,” because those lines describe exquisitely a certain experience of what it feels like when you’re in a place where the fog is coming in. You know what I mean, if you’ve ever been there – that strange hushing, that strange softness that your surroundings develop. It’s a subjective experience, but it’s a real part of your awareness. So, are Sandburg’s lines true? The answer is yes or no, depending on whether what you mean is 1 literal truth – truth of the kind that a scientist would consider true – or poetic truth. If you mean literal truth, then the lines are not true (of course). But if you think of the lines as possibly describing an experience, as being poetically true in that sense, then they are true. Those lines do describe something real – a real subjective feature of your awareness and of your surroundings – even though there really aren’t any feet under the fog. I’d like to propose that we think of most of the beliefs of the major religions of the world in this way. These beliefs might not be literally true, but at least in some cases – at least for the central beliefs shared by most religions – they might be true in some other way. They might point to a significant truth, even though they aren’t literally true. The prime belief of this sort would be belief in God. Now, some people think of God as a being who created the universe and who created everything in the universe, including living species, by supernatural means, by just bringing them into being (boom! there they are), instead of natural causes creating the things in the universe. If this is exactly how you define God, then there is no God. Why? Because things have natural causes. Many things have been found to have natural causes, and biological species, as one prime example, have been found to have natural causes through evolution. So if that’s what you mean by “God,” then there is no God. But the answer is different if what you mean by “God” is a divine presence in the world, some entity or feature of reality that can be regarded as divine – which means, at a minimum, that it’s worthy of our highest admiration and love, and somehow represents and embodies all that is good. If that’s what you mean by God, then there could well be a God. I’ve argued in some of my writings that there is a being like that. It’s what philosophers would call an “abstract entity” – not a ghostly spiritual substance, but an entity that can be known to us as a feature of the world and of things in the world. This entity is a suitable focus for our highest love, because it is shown or manifested in all that is beautiful and good, including the people we love. It is not just some force or some object devoid of spiritual qualities. Instead, it has enough mindlike features that we can regard it as a “someone” instead of a mere “something.” However, it is not what we usually think of as a “person.” I know I’m being rather vague and sketchy here, but I’ve spelled it all out before, in my writings on the subject of God.
How to improve your bad poetry. Apart from burning it!
If you are writing in form I suggest thinking of the lines as being like music with the same number of beats in each line.
Nowadays free vs much more commonly used and you don’t have the same problems there but you do have to have a feel for the musicality of what you write unlike the person who wrote the following verses
When you read them you will realize that it’s not worth writing anything unless it has some meaning and value to you and other people or it is genuine humour which these lines do not achieve
He took his girlfriend to the ( bleak and) sandy shore
He pushed her into that deep sea, and now she is no more
Stan fell asleep in front of the roaring fire.Emile lay across his lap.Emile was so limp he looked like a wet towel casually over the old man’s knees.It was Stan’s birthday but no party had been arranged.He was struck that Mary had not baked a cake..nor even bought one at the Co-op.
That was no surprise really as he did all the cooking including Bakewell tarts and Xmas cake,He was a versatile man who could also mend old radios and fix clocks that were stuck one time….usually the wrong one! He also spent quite a lot of time giving statistics lessons to pensioners and kissing his blonde mistress,Anne who lived next door. He decided that being so near her was a big advantage given his age. Suddenly he was awakened by chuckles and giggles,There were Mary and Anne holding a big iced cake and a pot of tea.The doorbell rang and in came all Stan’s friends from his Art class.Mary produced sandwiches and pork pies,sausage rolls and potato cakes. How did you do this ?,he enquired dazedly. We did it all in Anne’s oven.She has two so it was quite easy. Mary was not jealous of Anne for Mary would rather read Principia Mathematica than go to bed with Stan.Apparently she was mildly autistic but she was happy doing maths as many of her co-workers had the same syndrome. She did have one daughter whom she found hidden in a gooseberry bush in the garden.This was enough for Stan as he was 92.But luckily he did have a good gold plated pension of £390.09 per month. Everyone was having a fabulous time until Anne tried to light the candles on the cake.No matches could be found. Ring 999,Stan called childishly.Mary obeyed and soon the ambulance drew up. In ran Dave the trisexual paramedic. Is it your chair? he enquired wildly. No,it’s this cake.We can’t light the candles on it.Shall we douse it in petrol? We have a jerry can full of it in the spare room. That is very dangerous,he shouted. Well,we are old now and need the car badly.Risk assessment gave us evens on the odds. Dave produced a silver lighter and lit the candles.Then he conducted them all as they sang, ”Happy Birthday” to Stan.Stan managed to blow out 90 candles before passing out on the rug. Well,at least he didn’t break the chair,Mary said philosophically. I wish he had,said Dave. I’ve got some superglue here. Well,we do have a wardrobe that’s falling apart.would you like to mend it? Sure ,he replied gratefully.This is why we have the NHS! We are here for you 24/7 Or come to A and E if you get a mouth ulcer or a cold sore.No problem is too small!
Stan came to on the rug with Emile beside him.He gazed deeply into the cat’s green eyes. I think I’ve fallen in love with you,he informed the Emile. Will you sleep with me and let Mary have your basket. Are we engaged,said Emile. Definitely,said Stan.I’ll get you a golden collar with diamonds on it. When shall we be married? As soon as it’s legal,Stan answered honestly. In the meantime,we’ll have to live in sin. Then he fell asleep again with Emile in his arms. What a lovely picture, cried the ladies. Look at this.What a happy sight. What love,what devotion. How strange,what a commotion. They’re in love,what emotion. Don’t tell the Pope,we need caution
Poets have long been entranced by awe, that fleeting shiver of wonder you might feel while gazing at an endlessly starry sky or the geometry of a perfect snowflake
This did not require trekking to mountaintops or witnessing eclipses. Simply pausing to admire the intricacy of the veins of a leaf or being astonished by the scale of the universe after listening to a science podcast
In my despair I felt that I was stuck Paralysed by grief and guilt I failed By the end I had tried every trick
From prayer unthought to deeps of logic black My life, my engine ,juddered off the rails I hated God and of “his” Church was sick
Starving and alone I was in shock The death of one I loved had made me frail By the end I had tried every trick
I felt Love’s arms around me, death was blocked I knew this goodness, why else would I wail? I thought I hated God but Love had struck
Warm and golden light that did me hold Where are you now when Evil has grown bold? Kind despair that made me long time sit By the end I learned Love needs no trick
I was trying to connect a Chromebook to the internet via my Wi-Fi
It did not respond when I tapped my Wi-Fi provider. After a lot of effort I discovered I could just about see the settings when the screen was in a high intensity mode
It appeared to be connected to EE and then wanted to charge me for using it but I don’t know who’s EE broadband it was connected to.
I’ve never spent a lot of time losing it the settings but I’m glad that I did spend this time because I understand a lot more about the settings now than I did before.
Eventually I managed to get rid of EE and put my BT one in its place
Now all that took a long time.
And what I do is the following
I spend a maximum of 25 minutes with a problem and then I leave it until the next day
I repeat this for as many days as it takes.
In between my brain has been working on what’s happened and so I find it easier to go back into the problem
Of course it’s very hard sometimes to leave a problem
I’ve still not connected it because it comes up with the phrase
Network not available.
If you have good eyesight you will probably do this problem solving more quickly than I can
The tiny print is very hard to read even with a magnifying glass and several pairs of spectacles
No I feel confident that I know how to do that but not just that but I’ve learned how to do several other things.
I first learned this technique of doing only 20 or 25 minutes at a time when I bought a new phone and by some horrible chance I touched Norwegian as the language by mistake and it took me four days of 25 minutes a day to change it back to English again
No one I knew at the time knew what to do so I just had to keep trying different possibilities.
So the most important thing is: it’s better not to use a lot of energy pressurising yourself to solve the problem quickly
If it is urgent then you’re better off calling in an expert to help you.
I know that's how death will come, Suddenly flying into another orbit when I am photographing flowers It's not a gentle transition. No-one will know where I've gone. One step wrong and I'm off the high wire And plunging into the no safety net. Flying for a while Jumping into hyperspace,spinning electrons Startle my wide eyes. Transiting the new black sun I'm on a double gold helix, Spider on her web, Knitting furiously Into the future heaven on gossamer wings. Butterfly goodbye, I'm off to see the stars. And the black holes. No one will come with me. I'm shaking off,evaporating into mist. I'm a flying saucer on a circus mission. I can't say no to a new invitation. Make it fast and break with tradition. Time is passing smoothly till that break In the music, I've been transmuted into a different key someone else will play me on their violin I'm a tune, I'm a thought, I'm a whisper in your vision. Goodbye,darling. I'm under orders Ready to leave for my performance On the electric carpet. Death dancing to a tune on a violoncello, Arpeggionne sonata I'm playing your words upside down In a new foreign translation, Accompanied by solo artists,ice cracking I'm going in. It's too sudden. I'm flying. Spinning faster to amuse the clowns, too many ups and no downs. I'm going right out of orbit I've broken the pull of gravity, And fly with pure equanimity Into my future life, I'm off at some moment An instant,a crack,a loud smack That was me passing
I wonder if the pearl of great price is no longer itself when you think you can acquire it cheaply.
Of course the great price is not money it is a metaphor that you sacrifice all that you have that you are willing to become nothing in order to get this Pearl which is I think must be creativity.
Stan and Annie have been having such a lovely time since Mary went off.Stan has quite given up his addiction to microfibre cloths and polishing the windows.
He and Annie can now make love at night and go out for trips in the day time.
Emile’s diary is getting quite full although he is worried he may bebanned from sleeping on the foot of the bed soon as he may be in their way.How will he know what they get up to?
Luckily there is a gap at the bottom of the door so he should be able to see them in the mirror opposite the bed.They usually light the bedside lamp so as to see into each other’s eyes.
~Annie is a very bold,confident woman.Despite being rather plumper than is medically advised she loves her body and lives happily in it now she has true love.
One morning Stan goes down to make some tea whilst
Annie comes to.
“Stan,come here quickly!”
“What’s wrong,my little lamb chop?”
“I feel sick!”
“Was it those old sausages we ate up last night?”
“No,it’s a different sort of sick!”
“You don’t mean………..?”
“Yes,Stan,I’m afraid a miracle has happened!”
“But you are 55 and I’m 90.Surely we can’t have a baby!”
“Well,the ways of God are strange.” she murmured.
“I don’t want to bring God into it.” he riposted.
“Are you not pleased we are still fertile?” she asked
him humorously.
“Well,in the abstract I might be but in the concrete it
could be awkward.” he said furtively
“What do you mean?”
“Well,Mary will be coming back in a couple of months,you
know”
“We don’t have to tell her you are the father.I could
pretend it was the new Vicar at St Andrew’s”
“But he’s gay!”
“Not many men are able to resist my charms and skills.”
“I can believe that,”Stan answered lubriciously.
“But will you have to seduce him soon before he notices
you are pregnant>”
“I wasn’t thinking of actually going to bed with
him,”said Annie with a smile.
“Oh,dear.I was looking forward to that,”Emile murmured
under his breath.
“That would have made my diary into a best seller.”
“Gay vicar seduces middle aged harlot who is now
expecting.”
It sounds a bit like the old Bible stories except they
had no vicars in those days.But miracles like older
women bearing children did happen so…who knows?
Stan and Annie got dressed and went into the kitchen.
Over-ripe peaches stuck in throat Swallowed a button inside a salmon steak.Two for one. Tried to thread needle while standing on own head Fell out of bed onto a sharp wife Dreamed was being buried so died of shock Asked for cremation owing to drug habits.Died when in urn or before
Mary realised her voice was louder than most when people took out their hearing aids when she talked to them
But was she right?
There are alternatives explanations such as people were not interested in Wittgenstein but in the cost of living
She did find her booming voice useful when phoning doctors,
Why had her voice got louder as she aged? Could her doctor have given her testosterone instead of oestrogen?
Off she went to meet her doctor on Zoom
Oh,my God her GP shouted.
When you said you were an 85 year old mathematician I assumed you were a man but your voice was feminine hence I gave you male hor.mones to deepen it and make it more authoriative
Why don’t you change your gender ? he continued
I don’t feel like a màñ
How do you know how men feel ?
They have felt me in bed with an urgency that surprised me
If you tell them you are trans they won’t feel you anymore
Unless they are gay
And so say all of us
At three o’clock, we ran across the park Then up the Wigan Road, we children roamed Past the houses and along the fields Looking for our daddy coming home Looking for our daddy coming home.
I was only two or three at most We passed our church and saw the Pope in Rome We climbed a fence and walked by fields of wheat Looking for our daddy coming home Looking for our daddy coming home.
From the distance came a tall thin man A ladder on his shoulder, hair well combed A bucket full of paints and all his tools Look, Paul, is that daddy coming home? Bernard, I think daddy’s coming home!
A look of shock, a smile, a cry, my loves! He rushed towards us, happy and transformed What about your mammy does she know? Yes, yes, yes it’s daddy coming home Yes, yes, yes, it’s daddy coming home.
Oh,Mammy had no idea of it at all She thought we were just playing by the wall Children were much bolder and more free Daddy how I loved you, come to me
Mary was on a step ladder in the bathroom spying on her husband Stan,through a hole in the wall…which he had drilled for spying on women sunbathing nude in their back gardens> He was climbing over the fence with Emile their cat on his shoulder.
I think it’s ridiculous, she muttered . Surely Emile, a cat, can jump over the fence by himself.But Emile was very limp,she saw with horror He can’t be dead, she whispered to herself fearfully.She jumped down off the and hit her head on a tap… a dangerous event for a human with weak retinae or retinas Oh,my! That hurt…I’d better be careful.She flew down stairs and met Stan in to the kitchen Emile has got concussion, Stan said unhappily Is he not dead,she wondered anxiously. No, he only fell off Annie’s roof.I am sure he’ll come to. Good Lord.What made him go up there and more important,how did he manage it manage to climb up? You’d better ring 999,he informed her graciously yet boldly
If you say so ,my dear.I’d do anything you ask.. Don’t put on that act! he said wantonly I mean it. A bit too late now. What do you mean? After 40 years with your mind on Wittgenstein,Dirac,Pascal and Kierkegaard,do you think I don’t know you made a mistake marrying me But whoever I married,I’d have read those same writers… Umphh,said Stan dolefully. Just then Dave,the bisexual transvestite paramedic ran in. Poor Emile,what have you done? He fell off Annie’s roof, but we have no theory as to how he got there,said Stan. Well, there’s no need to think of that… deal with reality.That’s my modus operandi! He gave Emile the kiss of life.
Emile came to…but was not pleased Why did you waken me up?I was having a lovely dream of walking down a silver path where I saw a big cat with shining fur and tender eyes looking at me.He just began to miaow when some fecking idiot woke me up… was he God? I can’t say,Emile,dear.But please do not swear. I’ll do whatever I fecking well feel like,he said. Good heavens, what has happened.Has he been reading dirty books? No, he was watching East Enders on TV… they all use the f word constantly. Well,Emile.God will have to wait… he’ll be glad if you do some kind work here on earth. Up yours,said Emile.I am sick of living here.I’ve been hoping for years Stan would mate with Annie but he has only managed a kiss. Perhaps it was the kiss of life,said Mary hopefully as it pained her to think Stan no longer desired her. Well, in a sense,you might have hit the snail on the bed said Stan thoughtfully.I know any further mention of philosophy will drive me mad! Now,Dave said,shall I make you some tea? Thank you Stan responded.I am half crazed already.Tea may save my sanity.But for what? Annie came in Did you know Emile was in a hot air balloon,she said in tones of wonder.How has he got down so fast? I fecking well fell out,the cat yawned proudly.Then I had a near death experience until this loon here brought me round. Emile,I’ve never heard you swear before! she whispered in a strange manner reminiscent of almost silent films starring unnames and forgotten beauties of long ago. Do you like it,baby? Emile asked. No I don’t. I’ve never said Feck in all my life. Well you have now,the cat informed her with a naughty smile. I think he’s possessed by demons.We’ll have to have him exorcised. But I like demons,Emile bawled .I’ve been good all my life and I am bored and depressed. So you believe swearing will help more than therapy? Emile got up and lit a cigarette nonchalantly with a certain ,je ne sais pas. Good grief,he’ll be having sex on the sofa next said Stan. What a good idea,said Emile, but I want my own room and an en suite..I mean to impress the next girl friend I have. Dave drank some tea and watched these old folk ponder. I am wondering where we went wrong,said Mary.All these years we’ve educate you privately and even had you baptised. Well.I am going to be a Jew,said Emile. I don’t think a cat can be a Jew… and you never ever had any interest in the spiritual before,why this? Well,when I was unconscious I realised that God exists…. But why a Jew? Well,they were the first to see God in a Burning Bush.. And the last too, thought Annie nervously. Well,said Stan.You want to smoke,swear ,make love and possibly enjoy wine and song.Is that not enough? Does God smoke and swear? There was a long silence and Emile answered Well,you see,Yes he does. I’m off said Dave.I have to ring the Pope. Why? asked Emile.I’m not going be a Catholic…. Well,said Dave,he ought to know that God is a cat.
Inside my mind I dream of pearls, Caterpillars,snails with whorls. I dream contented, all enwrapped; With reverie and dream I’m lapped. The inner seas will comfort me, While gods open my eyes to see
Oh,sweeter than confectionery Is my Oxford diction’ry. The words whirl round then fall to shape The sentences which my world make. This furnishing is rich and strange And magically self arranged.
Oh,sweeter than the love of man Is reading works of poets long gone; Feeling deeply their dark tides . Upon which our boat may glide. The sea infinite we float upon Is the same warm sea the ancients swam..
Sweeter still is the spring air And the blossom spreading fair. We’ll drown our selves in grassy fields To the gods of poetry yield. We’ll rise again and spring up tall To grow more ripe until we fall
The bus was due in five minutes.Mary applied some sunscreen and combed her hair gently with a cake fork while she wondered why she was going out.She looked into her phone camera to get her hair in order Alas, the familiar footsteps of Annie were heard on the patio
In she flew dressed in red and brown like a robin in winter except she wore pure wool How do you like my outfit, she cried girlishly Mary stared at her, noting the pale beige face makeup from Max Tucker and brick coloured lipstick from Wigan’s Makeup Outlet Store where Annie loved to browse for days on end. I think the brick coloured lipstick does not go with the scarlet jacket,Annie. Oh, don’t worry.It’s the in thing now to clash
That might be true but men won’t know it’s a fashion unless they read Vogue.Most don’t.
Never mind all that. I’ve brought Emile a new blanket
He’s not a dog,you know.Do cats need blankets?
If you drove it would protect the seat. I might go round the bend.If we drive we almost certainly would meet bends
Do fish get the bends,mewed Emile? We don’t know that.It only proves that a question can be asked in a human language but within that system there is no way of answering it,Mary told him quietly, thinking of Wittgenstein her husband’s former tutor.
First of all, fish probably can’t speak English or understand it.
How amazing, the little cat replied.How stupid can you get
Well a fish would think you were stupid for not being able to live in the sea.
So true,Emile sighed.Shall I try? Don’t be so ridiculous,Annie whispered.The sea in not near Knittingham. Mary can’t drive and you may drown. Then St Peter will be reading out all your sins
Can cats commit sins, asked Emile with surprise
Yes, because you know you have a choice.You can bite my hand or resist the temptation
I don’t feel like biting it now so if I did it would not give me pleasure.
For God’s sake, stop arguing.Anyone would think you’d been to the Synagogue, today Mary shouted
But in a Synagogue men argue about the Torah not about cats swimming,Emile replied
But then it gets to be a habit,Mary finished. Still many other people argue,Annie reminded her
But God does not want it,Mary said How do you know? He/She may love to hear it.It will provoke thought And it may provoke a Flood or you being turned into a pillow of salt,Mary screamed Pillar of Salt,Annie corrected he
Why do people not turn into pepper, the cat asked wisely. There is no pepper in the Dead Sea, the women agreed.~And black pepper/white pepper could be PIC They have red peppers in the Market.Annie mused.And yellow too But where does that leave us?Where was Mary going to and why has she not left for the bus stop?
Was it something wicked that she was trying to do in secret? We’ll see tomorrow I expect
How my heart sings 