He has only written two books and they’re in the form of stories I found it very interesting and his first book the examined Life I have reread and far more in it than I remembered.
Beautiful written as well
The Myth of Apostolic Authority https://share.google/4jGaSsYjRjb2wbzZL
Mary was knitting a large shawl on a circular needle and following the pattern in her BBC knitting book from the 1970s she had to increase in the center of each row by one stitch or was it two stitches I cant quite remember.
When she got up to 228 stitches and was beginning the next row she forgot where she was and so she began to count from the beginning to see if she’s reached 114.
She got up to 98 when Stan who was reading the Guardian turned her and says,. have you read this article by Samuel Heeps today!
I don’t think so, she murmured as she began to count from the beginning again.
When she got up to 97 he responded
Surely you must know whether you Readvit or not.
Yes perhaps I will remember soon she retorted as Emile mewed silently.
The third time she got up to 101
The fourth term she got hooked to 103
Are you sure you don’t remember this article, her husband
Mary is a very patient woman but nobody is perfect so she stopped knitting said to her husband can you look at me please
So he did and then she said I am knitting this very big shawl but I am not an expert and sometimes I have to count the stitches so before you speak will you look at me and see whether I am counting or not please!
Oh I’m so sorry darling. I never speak when you are writing on the computer or reading the latest work of Adam Phillips in but I did not realize that you can’t knit something like that without having to look at it carefully now and then.
So then Mary began and got to the center and increase in the middle and stitch on both sides
And eventually she finished the shawl
And decided not to divorce her husband
After all, who would want a totally silent husband?
That’s a question I can’t answer
The only sure way to catch a train is to miss the one before it
GK Chesterton
Of course this assumes that all the trains leaving your station are going to the same place
If not you might miss the trend from Oxford to London and instead the catch the train from Oxford to Slough
At my local station here all the trains go into London. So he would be right .
The most dangerous situation would be where you missed your train from king’s cross to Peterborough and git on the next train which was a non-stop express to Edinburgh
There are trains like that because I’ve been on one and I remember going through Newcastle very fast which I did not recommend.
How softly sweetly,gently flowers pose
Carnation,orchid ,daffodil and rose.
For their intricate petals form a shield
Yet bees with striped force shall make them yield.
Appearances,both natural and contrived,
Mixed with the wiles of human nature thrive.
As knowing not, we pluck the apple rare
And bite its flesh,with teeth we have to bare.
We too deceive the innocent who pass
Not seeing watchers hid behind the glass.
The windows break,the deep earth quakes;
Seized is the maiden ,he her virtue takes.
Beneath the surface,force and fierceness thrive.
What fearsome, burning God enjoys our lives
Ezekiel sits on the floor eating an orange
He has four teeth, he can stand up.
He can’t walk yet but he dances.
He’s as tall as the table
What are you thinking Ezekiel?
You are murmuring and muttering
You are singing and whispering
Speaking in words and sentences is in a way or diminishment of all this.
I can see what we lose as we grow older
Oh happy,Ezekiel, you like oranges.
You want something and it appears as if by magic.
It appears as if you created it.
Be our guest
I’m in deep now,never been this deep before
The world’s hollow like a shell and I’m out its door.
In so deep, the ocean has its own startled floor.
I’m down,down.down.never been so dark , so )
I can’t rightly tell how I got where I am
I think I had an accident,fell over, then I swam.
Sometimes it’s a loss, be times it’s my man.
I guess I only do it cos I know some folk can.
I don’t know if the joy is worth the pain
Would I choose to relive if, I was born again?
The deep joy is the amazing gain.
But the sorrow is damn sad, let’s admit it plain.
I’m in deep and it’s over my head
What was I thinking of,when I fell out of that bed?
I look up and the sea’s so turquoise like that mist is red
When we get good and mad and wish some loon was dead.
At first, it was all just black,black pain
But from the bottom of the well, I looked up with awed love again.
That’s when I recalled,feelings are deep and sane
Joy is much greater when we’re in the deep,deep zone.
I dunno if I’m ever comin’ out.
We can’t control it,ain’t that what life’s all about?
I’ll never love with innocence again,nor not feel doubt.
But I’m no teapot and the devil ain’t got my spout.
I’m swimming and the ocean’s so mysteriously bright
Down here we don’t have no day nor no night
Fish nudge me with big grins and teeth white
Sea flowers fondle me and whisper,turn off that light
The future is a story not yet told.
Are fantasy and dream creative acts?
The future is still fiction for the bold
We aren’t like concrete set into a mould
And yet we all must die, that is a fact
The future is a story not yet told.
Some may travel through the realms of gold
Taking in the virtues that they lacked
The future is still fiction for the bold
We’re always moving on, life is not on hold
Selfish day dreams never teach us tact
The future is a story not yet told
Into my dreaming head such thoughts are packed.
Slipping in the mire of all my lacks
The future is a fiction not yet told
The future is a story for the world
Who did the gooseberries fool?
Why does hair gel?
Why do strawberries jam?
Must eggs lie on toast?
She fried her own eggs daily.
She even made her own bread
We had grapefruits bigger than the grapes.
Why do sheets change?
Do pillows have good cases in law?
Why get married when you can go to prison?
Why have a man when you could love a cat freely
Why marry a wo/man when you can go fishing?
Just relax and act naturally
My therapist is dead but I’ve never mentioned it.
She may rise from the dead but I don’t think yeast is sufficient to cause that.
Mary had been reading a new book called,” The Path” by Michael Puett and Christine Gross-Loh.To her surprise, vrshe saw it reviewed on her phone where she read the guardian news
.She had decided to get out of bed on the other side
When she awoke the next day, she remembered her vow.Unfortunately, she forgot she was inside a fleece sleeping bag with a zip on one side only.Should she get some scissors and cut her way out on the other side?Or was that a foolish idea since nobody but she would know she had failed her to keep her first new promise.
She heard a noise and them her friend Annie came in wearing a long satin nightgown and a green velvet trench coat.
How do you like this, she asked Mary?
Mary was very red yet silent
What is wrong, with you Mary?
I need to pee but I can’t get out of bed on the wrong side.
You have no choice, said Annie.You must not wet the bed or die from a burst bladder. Get out on the right side
But I feel a failure on my first day.
Maybe that is your lesson.Accept you can’t do it and get on with your day.
Mary ran to the bathroom.What a relief passing water can be to poor ladies who suffer afflictions in these regions.
Annie went down to the bijou yet complex kitchen and began to make some toast and boil some eggs.She gazed at the peach walls and melon cupboard doors unable to decide if she liked them.Maybe kingfisher blue might have been better.Too late now.Mary could not afford a new kitchen even if this one was really old.At least it was not orange as was common in the 70’s.
Mary came in with her golden hair standing up on end like candlesticks from the Synagogue.
I just got a shock, she said
I can see your hair is standing on end.Was it the electric socket?
No, there was a man looking into the window and I was naked in the bath.
Perhaps it was King David, Annie joked.Why don’t you have frosted glass?
Stan said it would frost itself in the winter.He was the least practical man in the world.
Maybe we could glue artificial frost onto it?
Who was the man, asked Annie her cheeks pinker than her perky pink lipstick by Licumb ; those lips which were so thick and sensual with a lovely curve.
Mary tore her eyes away from these lips.I didn’t have my glasses on, she said.Maybe it was a man from a hot air balloon?
Maybe someone fancies you at last,saidAnnie.
Do you think I’d go out with a man who does things like that?
No, you could stay in with him, Annie joked, as tears of mirth made her green eyeshadow and red mascara stream down her cheeks like rain after a nuclear explosion.No wonder men ran after her in the street.
You could succumb to his charms,Annie whispered.
I think I’d like a man more sensitive than that, Mary screeched.
Well, Mary, you are so lacking in knowledge the art of flirting you only notice men when they do something really wild or unusual
Like what, asked Emile who had just munched up a bowl of dried cat food and was full of energy.
Well, Stan kept pretending he loved reading Newton’s original writings which he bought from some unusual website thinking it would impress Mary. However as he failed O leve; maths 5 times he could not understand it.He sobbed and cried in the public library and Mary was moved by his grief.Later on, though, he became angry at her intellectual talent and took me as his mistress to get back at her.She never even noticed!
I don’t see how having a mistress is a revenge on poor woman who was given her genes by God, said Emile.
Don’t be daft, she buys her jeans from TK Maxx, Annie answered.
And so do all of us.
I can’t write any more right now!
How my heart sings 