When you fall in love you are always wanting to be with the one you love. Always phoning them, writing letters, making any excuse to meet them for a date. Now that I have mended our fridge I have fallen in love with it.
When I open the fridge door a little light pops on and smiles hello. Sometimes I open the door and listen to the coolent course through the back plate. If it has switched itself off and is silent I check the thermometer and if it is at 6 degrees everything is cool, no problems.
I have given it lots of presents, well food really. Moved all the stuff I had out on the balcony into its cool belly. At night I have got up to see if it was OK. The condenser has purred at me and thanked me for stocking the shelves with food. It remarked that it had to work hard when the shelves were empty, but now that they are full things have stabilised.
It is excellent that things are back to normal.
Monday, January 17, 2005
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Moves
Is moving good for you. Not really it gives you alot of stress and headache. Packing, unpacking, finding new places to stay. You start off with your family, and your mum and dad looks after you, but you might get shunted around a few times from grandmothers to great aunts if there happens to be a tragedy in the family. So the early years go like this.
Bankend Ayrshire Scotland: Rooms with Rab Wright
Glebe Street New Cumnock Ayrshire Scotland: Upstairs house (Mother and Father)
Castlemains Ave Ayrshire Scotland: Granny's house.
Glebe Street New Cumnock Ayrshire Scotland Upstairs house (Father)
Green Braes Road Ayrshire Scotland Great Aunt Marg
Glebe Street New Cumnock Ayrshire Scotland Upstairs house (Father)
You step out of the home and are on your own for the first time when you go to university, and you live the life of a tramp with no roots. It is the nomadic life as Bruce Chatwin puts it. One day you look out of the window and see a bird soaring in the blue sky, and you imediately decide to go walkabout, and like the aborigine who strips himself of all his clothes and walks naked into the desert, you leave the soot and chill of Scotland behind and head for the continent. You work where you can, and sleep in any available bed. The work and the accomodation change with the seasons. Slipping in and out of society. When you leave society behind you have to lie about where you are escaping to, and when you return to society you have to lie about where you have been. Telling lies is not good for you. And from a teenager to a young man it went like this.
Baird Hall of Residence: Sauchihall street Glasgow Scotland (Greece)
Bognor Regis Hants: Summer working at Butlins
Baird Hall of Residence: Sauchihall street Glasgow Scotland ( Morrocco )
Minehead Sommerset: Summer working at Butlins
Rochester Kent: Accounts dept for county council. (Russia)
Neasden London NW10: Macvities and Price biscuit factory on the night shift to buy a boat.
The Grange Leatherhead Surrey : Ronsons lighter factory. (India)
Living to please youself would seem to be the best you can do, but the sun becomes too hot and the body is sick of the heat. India is the last great escape, but a broken landrover and a broken relationship sends me to the cold north of Scandinavia.
William Morris had gone to Iceland to mend his broken heart. I would go to Finland, and become a christian. Mystical monastic life for me. I devour the Spiritual life by Watchman Nee. I sell bibles door to door in Italy for food. I do it all with a sheet of A4 paper with Italian phrases on it.
I then work in an old folks home and see demented old women put their petticoats on top of their dresses. I lift them out of their urine soaked beds. I dress their bed sores. I put their false teeth in their mouths. I listen to the coherent ones tell me that their son will be coming this weekend to take them home. Every week they tell me this story and every weekend the son fails to turn up. Hope springs eternal in the human breast. I lift those who have fallen out of bed and lie dead on the cold cold floor. My son is born, and I begin my life of working for nothing. Five years of not earing a penny, and living never the less.
Koski HL Jokelan Kartano Finland: Odd jobs
Italy, Pisa, Milan, Reggio Emilia: OM
Hammelton Road, Bromley Kent: STL
West Wickham, Kent: STL
Tweedy Road, Bromley Kent: STL
The Elders Ewell Surrey: Old folks home
The stink coming from the mycelium clings to your clothes and hair. You could go into the local library in Hanko and the librarian would sniff you and casually remark "So you work at Fermion do you?" I wonder how many people can have their exact jobs pinpointed from the way they smell? Viikki saw the brith of Riina and Raisa. Kontula saw the birth of Patrik and Ilona.
I was the crazy christian who was so ignorant that I knew nothing about birth control. Intelligence was stamped apon you if you had 1.4 children. To have 5 ment you were a bit loose in the head. Take 5 children on public transport and you will be looked at. I graduated as a microbiologist. Studied, worked, and took care of 5 kids. We survived, and it was not hard.
Then came kick-ass radical christianity with an emphisis on prayer and worship. The Welsh revivalist were left coughing in the smoke of our songs, the shape note singers from Boston in their singing squares were swept away in a barrage of power chords. Charles Wesley was tossed aside and replaced by Kevin Prosch. We were a flaming arrow shot from the bow of a righteous God. It ended very badly.
But I had become a bioinformatician. Not only was it a new word that nobody could spell, apparently the world was clamouring for people who knew something about bioinformatics. I applied to work at the newly founded European Bioinformatics Institute in Cambridge UK . These were the years of study and work study and work study and work.
Gentoftenkatu Hanko Finland: Fermion ( Penicillin factory )
Latokartano Viikkki Finland: Helsinki University
Ostostie Kontula Finland: Helsinki University
Stenbackantie Kauklahti Finland: CSC
Åminnenranta Kauklahti Finland: CSC
Krämertintie Metsälä Finland: CSC
The summer was hot. I let Raisa trim my hair and she having punkish tendencies decided to put a couple of go faster speed strips down the side of my head. It looked a mess so I told her to shave my head completely. However I had a 10 year growth of Raspuitin beard which did not look quite right with a bald head, so I instructed her to swipe it off as well. I did not recognise myself with this clean cut look, and neither did anybody else.
It was then that I was called to the UK for an interview for a job at EBI. I knew a few of the people on the interview panel, but when I entered the interview room in my new defoliated form they had a hard time recognising me. To make matters worse one of the interviewers had a similar bald pate. Everytime I looked across the table it was like looking in a mirror. The rhyme Humpty Dumpty kept running through my head, and instead of answering questions I am thinking about Tweddle Dum and Tweedle Dee from Alice in Wonderland. The interview was surreal and the strange laughter that was bubbling inside me threated to explode in the faces of the panel.
I got the job because I said I was a bioinformatician. Children get married and leave home.
Beck Road Saffron Walden Essex England: EBI
Johnsons house Johnsone yard Saffron Walden Essex: EBI
Cromwell Road Saffron Walden Essex; EBI
Castle Cross Saffron Walden Essex: EBI
EspoonLahti Finland: CSC
Ten years on and I am back in Finland. All of the children are on their own, and everyone of them are beginning to make their own moves. Some are settled some are on the move.
Bruce Chatwin said in Songlines that we are all decended from Nomads and to be on the move has a secret place in our hearts. Personally I have thought that God has tied me down when I wanted to go, and kicked me in the arse when I wanted to stay. I feel a bit like Abraham.
By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went.
That is precisely what I have done, and it has taken me 30 moves, and I am wondering what my inheritance might be.
Friday, January 14, 2005
A little bit of history repeating
The fridge is on the blink. It will run for hours and never switch itself off, unless you fiddle with the controls and then it does switch itself off but never comes back on again. The only way to get it going again is to pull the plug, let it stand for 10 to 15 minutes and then plug it in again. Then it runs like a maniac huskey out in the frost heading for home. Thermostat problem everybody says. I believe them.
But what does a thermostat look like and is it easy to replace. I imagine it to be a little gadget that you unplug from a socket, buy a new one, plug it in, and bob's your uncle. Sorted.
I haul the fridge out from the wall and look around for something electrical and I see a small black box attached to the compressor. I remove springs and clips and the cover and it reveals a something with lots of wires atached to it. Electrical must be the thermostat. I take a photo of it, so I can show the man at the spare parts department the type of thermostat I want. It is made by Danfoss. IT looks like this.
I drive to the shop and show the man my photo and he says that it is NOT a thermostat. I feel such a fool, but I ask him where the thermostat would be then and he says connected to the temperature control knob which is at the top of the fridge. Gritting my teeth I buy a general purpose thermostat that should do for all fridges. It is a little metal thing with a long wire coming off it. That wire has to be threaded somehow inside the fridge so it picks up the temperature and controls it.
I get home have a meal and then get down to the job of replacing the thermostat. Rip off the facia. Unscrew bolts and nuts. Unexpectedly little springs and washers were pinging everywhere. Flying so fast out of the electrical guts that I had no idea where they were coming from. Plod on. Soon the front and back of the fridge looked like it had taken a severe hit with a rocket propelled grenade, and after much rattling, clipping, twisting and snipping I extracted the thermostat. If you are wondering what a fridge thermostat looks like then the old one looks like this.
That long wire has to be delicately threaded through the polystyrene insulation and fixed to the back plate of the cooling unit inside the fridge, in a place that is so hidden and obscure, that it could be wearing a cloak of invisibility, or impersonating an essential part in a stealth bomber. Even the nimblest fingers of the fastest weaver would have difficulty attaching it to where it should go.
It took me 2 hours to dismantle everything and put it all back together again. Most of the time was looking at how things were joined together, and discovering after much effort that they were not supposed to be taken apart. At the end of the operation I only had two little nuts left on the table. I did not know where to put them, and half heartedly wished I had a young innocent child on hand who would have mistaken them for sweets and eaten them.
It was then I had the flashback to the washing machine incident. Would the fridge work, or was I looking at giving myself a hernia carrying it to the dumpster. I swicthed it on. It purred into life. There was no sparks or blue electrical flashes. It was working. It ran for an hour, the temperature droped, the thermostat kicked in and it switched the compressor off. James Brown said it best. I feel good.
But what does a thermostat look like and is it easy to replace. I imagine it to be a little gadget that you unplug from a socket, buy a new one, plug it in, and bob's your uncle. Sorted.
I haul the fridge out from the wall and look around for something electrical and I see a small black box attached to the compressor. I remove springs and clips and the cover and it reveals a something with lots of wires atached to it. Electrical must be the thermostat. I take a photo of it, so I can show the man at the spare parts department the type of thermostat I want. It is made by Danfoss. IT looks like this.
I drive to the shop and show the man my photo and he says that it is NOT a thermostat. I feel such a fool, but I ask him where the thermostat would be then and he says connected to the temperature control knob which is at the top of the fridge. Gritting my teeth I buy a general purpose thermostat that should do for all fridges. It is a little metal thing with a long wire coming off it. That wire has to be threaded somehow inside the fridge so it picks up the temperature and controls it.
I get home have a meal and then get down to the job of replacing the thermostat. Rip off the facia. Unscrew bolts and nuts. Unexpectedly little springs and washers were pinging everywhere. Flying so fast out of the electrical guts that I had no idea where they were coming from. Plod on. Soon the front and back of the fridge looked like it had taken a severe hit with a rocket propelled grenade, and after much rattling, clipping, twisting and snipping I extracted the thermostat. If you are wondering what a fridge thermostat looks like then the old one looks like this.
That long wire has to be delicately threaded through the polystyrene insulation and fixed to the back plate of the cooling unit inside the fridge, in a place that is so hidden and obscure, that it could be wearing a cloak of invisibility, or impersonating an essential part in a stealth bomber. Even the nimblest fingers of the fastest weaver would have difficulty attaching it to where it should go.
It took me 2 hours to dismantle everything and put it all back together again. Most of the time was looking at how things were joined together, and discovering after much effort that they were not supposed to be taken apart. At the end of the operation I only had two little nuts left on the table. I did not know where to put them, and half heartedly wished I had a young innocent child on hand who would have mistaken them for sweets and eaten them.
It was then I had the flashback to the washing machine incident. Would the fridge work, or was I looking at giving myself a hernia carrying it to the dumpster. I swicthed it on. It purred into life. There was no sparks or blue electrical flashes. It was working. It ran for an hour, the temperature droped, the thermostat kicked in and it switched the compressor off. James Brown said it best. I feel good.
Washing machine nightmare
Many years ago when my kids were still small our washing machine broke down and I decided to mend it in the living room. The fault was not electrical but mechanical. The big aluminium wheel that spun the drum was broken. To get that thing off required the removal of nut and bolts, springs and washers, and four precision bearings.
I laid everything out on clean newspaper on the floor. Everything in its place so I could put it all back together again. It was then that my young son decided that the small screws and the lovely small washers were in actual fact sweets and began to pick them up and put them in his mouth. There is no reasoning with a boy who is nearly two years old. I was torn between dismantling the washing machine, and preventing my son from choking on a delicious looking gudgeon pin.
It was a fortnight before I got everything back together again, and the nightmare memory that I still have is putting one set of bearings on the hot plate for them to expand and another set of bearings soaked in olive oil in the fridge to contract. Precision bearings are so precise that you have to trick them with hot and cold and oil to get them to fit together. I was a desperate man using desperate measures. A rubber mallet to tap them in place would also have been handy, but I used a good old fashioned Stanley clawheaded hammer to bash the buggers together.
After much pain, sweat, and effort the washing machine was back together again, though there were a few bolts and springs that I couldn't find a place for so I just left them out. That washing machine never spun again, and I nearly gave myself a hernia trying to carry it to the dumpster.
I laid everything out on clean newspaper on the floor. Everything in its place so I could put it all back together again. It was then that my young son decided that the small screws and the lovely small washers were in actual fact sweets and began to pick them up and put them in his mouth. There is no reasoning with a boy who is nearly two years old. I was torn between dismantling the washing machine, and preventing my son from choking on a delicious looking gudgeon pin.
It was a fortnight before I got everything back together again, and the nightmare memory that I still have is putting one set of bearings on the hot plate for them to expand and another set of bearings soaked in olive oil in the fridge to contract. Precision bearings are so precise that you have to trick them with hot and cold and oil to get them to fit together. I was a desperate man using desperate measures. A rubber mallet to tap them in place would also have been handy, but I used a good old fashioned Stanley clawheaded hammer to bash the buggers together.
After much pain, sweat, and effort the washing machine was back together again, though there were a few bolts and springs that I couldn't find a place for so I just left them out. That washing machine never spun again, and I nearly gave myself a hernia trying to carry it to the dumpster.
Monday, January 03, 2005
Laughter
There is a wave on its way for me. None of my prayers can stop it. That is what I thought in bed this morning.
When my wife awoke I told her of a W.H. Audin quote.
Among those whom I like or admire,
I can find no common denominator,
but among those whom I love, I can:
all of them make me laugh.
I must love my son Patrik alot I thought, becasue he makes me laugh.
She said "I don't make you laugh very often these days."
I said "Would you like me to bring you breakfast in bed."
"No I would much prefer it if you stayed close by me."
"Sweet" I thought, and I said, "You know I have trouble spelling sweet. How do you do it?
"S.W.E.A.T." she said spelling it wrong.
"I am always confused by sweet and sweat. How do you spell a sweet that you have eaten?
She spelt it out "G.O.N.E."
And with that the sea became calm.
When my wife awoke I told her of a W.H. Audin quote.
Among those whom I like or admire,
I can find no common denominator,
but among those whom I love, I can:
all of them make me laugh.
I must love my son Patrik alot I thought, becasue he makes me laugh.
She said "I don't make you laugh very often these days."
I said "Would you like me to bring you breakfast in bed."
"No I would much prefer it if you stayed close by me."
"Sweet" I thought, and I said, "You know I have trouble spelling sweet. How do you do it?
"S.W.E.A.T." she said spelling it wrong.
"I am always confused by sweet and sweat. How do you spell a sweet that you have eaten?
She spelt it out "G.O.N.E."
And with that the sea became calm.
How to get from here to there?
I am stuck. The tragedy in South East Asia will not go away. I find I think about it every day. I read about it. I write about it.
I find a poem or a song that I think captures the moment, and I write it down. It is as though if I could capture the essence of what has happened, then it would make things easier.
I have discovered that a mere understanding of pain and suffering, does not make it go away. It might even make it worse. For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
What are my own heartaches compared to the misery caused by that unforgiving wall of water, that swept so many innocent people into oblivion.
I am warm. I have eaten. I talked to my children today. I have a home. I will sleep in my own bed tonight. There is some sadness in all of our lives, though nothing compared to the devastation that struck the families living on the rim of that monsterous 1000 kilometer earthquake.
Homes washed way. Cold and hungry, loved ones lost. An indiscriminate deluge, that saw tiny Alexander Lindman washed away by the waves.
What am I looking for? The same as what everyone is looking for. A word of hope to lift me up. A kind word to lighten my heart. A caring hand to ease my load.
I want the cold snow in my world to sparkle with beauty, and the warm sand in their world to feel good beneath their feet.
I want to see things differently. I want to get from here to there, and no photo and no word is helping me at the moment.
I find a poem or a song that I think captures the moment, and I write it down. It is as though if I could capture the essence of what has happened, then it would make things easier.
I have discovered that a mere understanding of pain and suffering, does not make it go away. It might even make it worse. For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
What are my own heartaches compared to the misery caused by that unforgiving wall of water, that swept so many innocent people into oblivion.
I am warm. I have eaten. I talked to my children today. I have a home. I will sleep in my own bed tonight. There is some sadness in all of our lives, though nothing compared to the devastation that struck the families living on the rim of that monsterous 1000 kilometer earthquake.
Homes washed way. Cold and hungry, loved ones lost. An indiscriminate deluge, that saw tiny Alexander Lindman washed away by the waves.
What am I looking for? The same as what everyone is looking for. A word of hope to lift me up. A kind word to lighten my heart. A caring hand to ease my load.
I want the cold snow in my world to sparkle with beauty, and the warm sand in their world to feel good beneath their feet.
I want to see things differently. I want to get from here to there, and no photo and no word is helping me at the moment.
Sunday, January 02, 2005
I'm falling down
Trying to find a place where I can hide away
To the fountain of youth inside my mind
Where old age can never find me.
Please excuse me I’m not doing well today.
Trying so hard to hide the darkness of my soul.
I’m a outworn heart in a time worn out.
I feel like I’m fading, I’m being tossed about.
There is a hole in my trampoline, I’m falling down.
And friendless, near a thousand friends I stand.
Who didn’t have a crumb of comfort, not even a grain.
Who were all to busy with my praise.
The distances of loneliness, how long they seem to me.
The door that is always locked, wants a key
I can hardly even say my prayers, nor can I be
Does that mean that I am fading, does that mean I am weak?
The soul of my suffering, that sucks my childhood pride
Never knew the leaves of healing, have I been left to die.
On God’s rough tumbling ground.
I’m falling down.
On God’s rough tumbling ground.
I’m falling down.
Am I a prophet or a vagabond?
I am a father and not a commandant.
And I grieve for the loss of all the prodigals.
And fatherless near ten thousand fathers I stand.
A broken little boy with a promise in his hand.
Did you see the crown, my mama crowned me with?
And he that made me bitter, also made me wise
Though I wrestled for the blessing
There was no love for me to find.
And the worlds more full of weeping
Than I can ever understand.
I’m in that place again, where the heart gives up its dead.
There is a place where tears fall
and they make no sound
On God’s rough tumbling ground.
I’m falling down.
There is a place where tears fall
and they make no sound
On God’s rough tumbling ground.
I’m falling down.
KP "Tumbling Ground"
Saturday, January 01, 2005
The Red Knight of Fear (from Fisher King)
As I Walked Out One Evening
W. H. Auden
As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.
And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
'Love has no ending.
'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,
'I'll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.
'The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world.'
But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
'O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.
'In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.
'In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.
'Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver's brilliant bow.
'O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you've missed.
'The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.
'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.
'O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.
'O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.'
It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.
W. H. Auden
As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.
And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
'Love has no ending.
'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,
'I'll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.
'The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world.'
But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
'O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.
'In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.
'In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.
'Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver's brilliant bow.
'O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you've missed.
'The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.
'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.
'O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.
'O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.'
It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Universal Declaration of Human Rights
Article 1
All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.
Article 2
Everyone is entitled to all the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration, without distinction of any kind, such as race, colour, sex, language, religion, political or other opinion, national or social origin, property, birth or other status.
Furthermore, no distinction shall be made on the basis of the political, jurisdictional or international status of the country or territory to which a person belongs, whether it be independent, trust, non-self-governing or under any other limitation of sovereignty.
Article 3
Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person.
Article 4
No one shall be held in slavery or servitude; slavery and the slave trade shall be prohibited in all their forms.
Article 5
No one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.
Article 6
Everyone has the right to recognition everywhere as a person before the law.
Article 7
All are equal before the law and are entitled without any discrimination to equal protection of the law. All are entitled to equal protection against any discrimination in violation of this Declaration and against any incitement to such discrimination.
Article 8
Everyone has the right to an effective remedy by the competent national tribunals for acts violating the fundamental rights granted him by the constitution or by law.
Article 9
No one shall be subjected to arbitrary arrest, detention or exile.
Article 10
Everyone is entitled in full equality to a fair and public hearing by an independent and impartial tribunal, in the determination of his rights and obligations and of any criminal charge against him.
Article 11
Everyone charged with a penal offence has the right to be presumed innocent until proved guilty according to law in a public trial at which he has had all the guarantees necessary for his defence.
No one shall be held guilty of any penal offence on account of any act or omission which did not constitute a penal offence, under national or international law, at the time when it was committed. Nor shall a heavier penalty be imposed than the one that was applicable at the time the penal offence was committed.
Article 12
No one shall be subjected to arbitrary interference with his privacy, family, home or correspondence, nor to attacks upon his honour and reputation. Everyone has the right to the protection of the law against such interference or attacks.
Article 13
Everyone has the right to freedom of movement and residence within the borders of each State.
Everyone has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country.
Article 14
Everyone has the right to seek and to enjoy in other countries asylum from persecution.
This right may not be invoked in the case of prosecutions genuinely arising from non-political crimes or from acts contrary to the purposes and principles of the United Nations.
Article 15
Everyone has the right to a nationality.
No one shall be arbitrarily deprived of his nationality nor denied the right to change his nationality.
Article 16
Men and women of full age, without any limitation due to race, nationality or religion, have the right to marry and to found a family. They are entitled to equal rights as to marriage, during marriage and at its dissolution.
Marriage shall be entered into only with the free and full consent of the intending spouses.
The family is the natural and fundamental group unit of society and is entitled to protection by society and the State.
Article 17
Everyone has the right to own property alone as well as in association with others.
No one shall be arbitrarily deprived of his property.
Article 18
Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance.
Article 19
Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.
Article 20
Everyone has the right to freedom of peaceful assembly and association.
No one may be compelled to belong to an association.
Article 21
Everyone has the right to take part in the government of his country, directly or through freely chosen representatives.
Everyone has the right to equal access to public service in his country.
The will of the people shall be the basis of the authority of government; this will shall be expressed in periodic and genuine elections which shall be by universal and equal suffrage and shall be held by secret vote or by equivalent free voting procedures.
Article 22
Everyone, as a member of society, has the right to social security and is entitled to realization, through national effort and international co-operation and in accordance with the organization and resources of each State, of the economic, social and cultural rights indispensable for his dignity and the free development of his personality.
Article 23
Everyone has the right to work, to free choice of employment, to just and favourable conditions of work and to protection against unemployment.
Everyone, without any discrimination, has the right to equal pay for equal work.
Everyone who works has the right to just and favourable remuneration ensuring for himself and his family an existence worthy of human dignity, and supplemented, if necessary, by other means of social protection.
Everyone has the right to form and to join trade unions for the protection of his interests.
Article 24
Everyone has the right to rest and leisure, including reasonable limitation of working hours and periodic holidays with pay.
Article 25
Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and of his family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond his control.
Motherhood and childhood are entitled to special care and assistance. All children, whether born in or out of wedlock, shall enjoy the same social protection.
Article 26
Everyone has the right to education. Education shall be free, at least in the elementary and fundamental stages. Elementary education shall be compulsory. Technical and professional education shall be made generally available and higher education shall be equally accessible to all on the basis of merit.
Education shall be directed to the full development of the human personality and to the strengthening of respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms. It shall promote understanding, tolerance and friendship among all nations, racial or religious groups, and shall further the activities of the United Nations for the maintenance of peace.
Parents have a prior right to choose the kind of education that shall be given to their children.
Article 27
Everyone has the right freely to participate in the cultural life of the community, to enjoy the arts and to share in scientific advancement and its benefits.
Everyone has the right to the protection of the moral and material interests resulting from any scientific, literary or artistic production of which he is the author.
Article 28
Everyone is entitled to a social and international order in which the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration can be fully realized.
Article 29
Everyone has duties to the community in which alone the free and full development of his personality is possible.
In the exercise of his rights and freedoms, everyone shall be subject only to such limitations as are determined by law solely for the purpose of securing due recognition and respect for the rights and freedoms of others and of meeting the just requirements of morality, public order and the general welfare in a democratic society.
These rights and freedoms may in no case be exercised contrary to the purposes and principles of the United Nations.
Article 30
Nothing in this Declaration may be interpreted as implying for any State, group or person any right to engage in any activity or to perform any act aimed at the destruction of any of the rights and freedoms set forth herein.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Sofia asleep holding a ribbon
Christopher and Terhi had a christening today. The baby was given the name Sofia Edith Helena.
In Finland the names of the babies are kept secret until the actual ceremony. This saves the grandparents wondering if any of their names will be used.
So I asked Terhi what did you call her from the birth until the christening. In public she said "vauva" but in private she whispered Sofia.
Christopher was asked by friends from the UK what the babies name was and all he could say was that it is a secret, and he could not tell anyone. This is unheard of in the UK because as soon as the baby is born it has to be given a name for the birth certificate.
The dress she is wearing was knitted 27 years ago by Maija for our daughter Riina. Indeed it has been used for quite a few christenings. The pink ribbon is exchanged for a blue one when a boy turns up. The silk rose was a touch added by the other grandmother Riita.
So when I got home I decided to open one of my christmas presents to celebrate and it turned out to be Reese's Nutragenous. That warmed my heart. It is good when your own children remember what you like, and then go to the effort of getting it for you.
In Finland the names of the babies are kept secret until the actual ceremony. This saves the grandparents wondering if any of their names will be used.
So I asked Terhi what did you call her from the birth until the christening. In public she said "vauva" but in private she whispered Sofia.
Christopher was asked by friends from the UK what the babies name was and all he could say was that it is a secret, and he could not tell anyone. This is unheard of in the UK because as soon as the baby is born it has to be given a name for the birth certificate.
The dress she is wearing was knitted 27 years ago by Maija for our daughter Riina. Indeed it has been used for quite a few christenings. The pink ribbon is exchanged for a blue one when a boy turns up. The silk rose was a touch added by the other grandmother Riita.
So when I got home I decided to open one of my christmas presents to celebrate and it turned out to be Reese's Nutragenous. That warmed my heart. It is good when your own children remember what you like, and then go to the effort of getting it for you.
Joy to the World
The kids wait for their presents, and if it happens that the first present out of the wrapper is a spiderman suit, a red and blue lycra concoction, that they have dreamed about, as they practised the hand movements, to shoot imaginary spider webs to swing on, then the evening is over and done with as far as all other presents are concerned.
It is just a pity that you do not become a super-hero by doning a tight blue and red suit, and no matter how hard you throw yourself at the wall, the suit does not have the power to make you defy gravity. You have to be satisfied by looking damn cool, as you strike a classic spiderman pose. It is unfortunate that the illusion of being a super-hero these days is all down to posing. The power is missing.
The excellence of a gift is in its appropriateness and not in its value
I decided to get radical with my own presents and not to open any of them. It is not being disrespectful to the people who gave me presents, it is just that I want to wait for special occasions to celebrate. Or rather many special occasions.
I believe I will celebrate by opening a present tomorrow at the christening of my grand-daughter.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Buy nothing for Christmas
Does it take courage to buy nothing for Christmas? The kids expect it. The relations send christmas cards, and for each one you get you have to send one back. It is the season for giving and advertisements appear in the shops as early as October.
Post early for Christmas is to blame, or more specifically the American soldiers who fought in the II World War. If they were to get their presents on time for the 25th then you had to post early for Christmas which ment shopping early as well, and so it burgeoned into a full blown consumer fest.
We get ties we don't want, dresses that don't fit, coats of the wrong colour, jewelrey that is obnoxious, sweets to make us sick, and more food than would feed a small village in Africa.
The celebration is supposed to be about Christ coming to the world and bringing the good news of peace and goodwill between God and man. The three wise men brought their gifts and so we commemorate the event by giving gifts to each other. But commerce has taken over to the extent that the peace and goodwill that should be christmas, has been replaced by stress and tension. Fights, arguments, drunkeness, abuse, dissatisfaction, depression, neglect, rejection are the emotions that are felt at the festive table.
Apparently Christmas is the time when hopes and expectations are built up. Families will be together, and will show love and care for each other, but instead dreams are dashed and Christmas becomes a crashing bore. We spend so much time thinking about love, and so little time feeling it.
It is too late to make this a Buy nothing for Christmas year but next year be a rebel and don't spend a cent. No cards, no presents. Don't cook a christmas meal, don't get landed with all the pots and and pans to clean up. Give up being a consumer. Consuming is not good for you.
Here is a Buy nothing for christmas song.
Post early for Christmas is to blame, or more specifically the American soldiers who fought in the II World War. If they were to get their presents on time for the 25th then you had to post early for Christmas which ment shopping early as well, and so it burgeoned into a full blown consumer fest.
We get ties we don't want, dresses that don't fit, coats of the wrong colour, jewelrey that is obnoxious, sweets to make us sick, and more food than would feed a small village in Africa.
The celebration is supposed to be about Christ coming to the world and bringing the good news of peace and goodwill between God and man. The three wise men brought their gifts and so we commemorate the event by giving gifts to each other. But commerce has taken over to the extent that the peace and goodwill that should be christmas, has been replaced by stress and tension. Fights, arguments, drunkeness, abuse, dissatisfaction, depression, neglect, rejection are the emotions that are felt at the festive table.
Apparently Christmas is the time when hopes and expectations are built up. Families will be together, and will show love and care for each other, but instead dreams are dashed and Christmas becomes a crashing bore. We spend so much time thinking about love, and so little time feeling it.
It is too late to make this a Buy nothing for Christmas year but next year be a rebel and don't spend a cent. No cards, no presents. Don't cook a christmas meal, don't get landed with all the pots and and pans to clean up. Give up being a consumer. Consuming is not good for you.
Here is a Buy nothing for christmas song.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Ilona's Graduation
Attended Ilona's graduation at Plymouth University. She is now a B. Sc. in Psychology.
In my seat I silently rehearsed something that I could shout out. Something Finnish that only she would know. A phrase that would be go straight to her heart and nobody elses.
But the thought of all the precious words I could say brought the flush of blood to my throat, that thickening of the viens that is a precursor to tears.
Being proud is such an overpowering emotion.
In my seat I silently rehearsed something that I could shout out. Something Finnish that only she would know. A phrase that would be go straight to her heart and nobody elses.
But the thought of all the precious words I could say brought the flush of blood to my throat, that thickening of the viens that is a precursor to tears.
Being proud is such an overpowering emotion.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Here's to your health
When I studied microbiology we were taught about a famous case of a cholera outbreak in London in 1854.
John Snow drew a map of the area around Broad Street and came to the conclusion that the disease was being spread from a certain water pump, and that people were drinking water contaminated by sewage.
He was a doctor who considered the environment as a contributing factor towards health. Bad environment equals bad health. Simple concept.
Doctors today very rarely get out and about. They remain stuck in their offices. When a patient arrives in bad health, a pill in prescribed to make them well.
The doctor does not see their living conditions, nor does he see the food they have been eating, or anything to do with their lifestyle. Whether they are extremely rich or devilishly poor. Illness is being viewed entirely from a biochemical point of view. Pop the right pill and you will get better.
Many of the major diseases have been irradicated by vaccinations, for example smallpox and polio, and pills will continue to be given for high blood pressure and depression and impotence, but you have to wonder about the real reasons for all our aches and pains, rashes and headaches, yeast infections, stomach upsets, broken wrists, cracking hip joints, acne, spots, cracked nails, missing teeth, bad breath, bad eyesight, warts, impetigo, constipation, skin blotches, sores, cuts, bruises, sprains, cancerous throats and lungs, ruined liver and kidneys, worn knee joints, asthma, runny noses.
In actual fact healthiness has got more to do with the way we live and the things we do. But then again some poeple have no choice but to become ill. If the only source of water is a pump contaminated by sewage, even with the best will in the world, and regardless of all their prayers, they will be brought low. But when we are ill, we all want a miracle to happen, a magic pill to take away the pain, to restore our well being, and make us better, so we can continue on as before.
Now if the world were viewed as London of 1885 and there was a benevolent doctor like John Snow, who would go out and plot the areas of devastation, what kind of dots would he plot on his world map. What would the world map show when it comes to disease and famine, and would anybody care to do something about it?
He would find that in many countries in Africa they have no clean water, and gastrointestinal infections kills around 2.2 million people globally each year, mostly children in developing countries. That is more people than die in your average world war.
In a world where there are stockpiles of food going to waste, people go hungry to bed every night. What pill is available to make them all get better?
John Snow drew a map of the area around Broad Street and came to the conclusion that the disease was being spread from a certain water pump, and that people were drinking water contaminated by sewage.
He was a doctor who considered the environment as a contributing factor towards health. Bad environment equals bad health. Simple concept.
Doctors today very rarely get out and about. They remain stuck in their offices. When a patient arrives in bad health, a pill in prescribed to make them well.
The doctor does not see their living conditions, nor does he see the food they have been eating, or anything to do with their lifestyle. Whether they are extremely rich or devilishly poor. Illness is being viewed entirely from a biochemical point of view. Pop the right pill and you will get better.
Many of the major diseases have been irradicated by vaccinations, for example smallpox and polio, and pills will continue to be given for high blood pressure and depression and impotence, but you have to wonder about the real reasons for all our aches and pains, rashes and headaches, yeast infections, stomach upsets, broken wrists, cracking hip joints, acne, spots, cracked nails, missing teeth, bad breath, bad eyesight, warts, impetigo, constipation, skin blotches, sores, cuts, bruises, sprains, cancerous throats and lungs, ruined liver and kidneys, worn knee joints, asthma, runny noses.
In actual fact healthiness has got more to do with the way we live and the things we do. But then again some poeple have no choice but to become ill. If the only source of water is a pump contaminated by sewage, even with the best will in the world, and regardless of all their prayers, they will be brought low. But when we are ill, we all want a miracle to happen, a magic pill to take away the pain, to restore our well being, and make us better, so we can continue on as before.
Now if the world were viewed as London of 1885 and there was a benevolent doctor like John Snow, who would go out and plot the areas of devastation, what kind of dots would he plot on his world map. What would the world map show when it comes to disease and famine, and would anybody care to do something about it?
He would find that in many countries in Africa they have no clean water, and gastrointestinal infections kills around 2.2 million people globally each year, mostly children in developing countries. That is more people than die in your average world war.
In a world where there are stockpiles of food going to waste, people go hungry to bed every night. What pill is available to make them all get better?
Tea Time for Children
When we were so new
and I wanted to impress
we drank our tea green.
Having no money
I collected the leaves
of arab peppermint.
To celebrate we
put fresh red monardia
in our sparse white cups.
Lapsang Souchong was
eagerly drunk even though
it was a mystery.
Unexpectedly
when we had become older
Assam surprised us.
Children are like teas
to be appreciated
when age catches you.
and I wanted to impress
we drank our tea green.
Having no money
I collected the leaves
of arab peppermint.
To celebrate we
put fresh red monardia
in our sparse white cups.
Lapsang Souchong was
eagerly drunk even though
it was a mystery.
Unexpectedly
when we had become older
Assam surprised us.
Children are like teas
to be appreciated
when age catches you.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Don't buy anything day
In Finland they recently had Don't buy anything day. A simple idea and when I heard it on the radio I decided to not buy anything that day.
No petrol for the car, no food for the fridge, no entertainment. I decided to see the day through with nothing. It was easy, but who could do it day out day in, which is the reality for many people in the world.
It was all about awareness. The stuff that we consume it must come from somewhere, and somebody must make it, but do we care? Not really.
You see I am the logo man. I believe in brands. I've got Nike on my feet, and Addidas pants, my socks are by le coq sportif, my shirt is by Ben Sherman, my glasses by Ray Bann, my watch is a Tag, but when I wear my Armani suit, I put on my Rolex. I drive a Merc for business and for pleasure I have the BMW.
See this belt buckle it is encrusted with real diamonds, and this ring on my little finger is worth a down payment for a mayfair flat. I've had all my teeth capped, and a hair transplant to cover that small bald patch that was developing on the crown of my head. The botox has removed all the lines and crows feet from around my eyes, and of course my nose is much smaller now. The spare tyre around my waist was removed by liposuction, and I wear a very discrete corset to keep the stomach flat. No-one ever notices because my suits are so well cut they disguise everything.
Look at me I have class. You see I buy only the best, and not only the best, but the most expensive. When you look at me you add up all the price tags of all the items I am wearing you must think to yourself that I must be somebody. Somebody with class, someone with taste, someone who is well stacked.
But every night I sleep naked.
No petrol for the car, no food for the fridge, no entertainment. I decided to see the day through with nothing. It was easy, but who could do it day out day in, which is the reality for many people in the world.
It was all about awareness. The stuff that we consume it must come from somewhere, and somebody must make it, but do we care? Not really.
You see I am the logo man. I believe in brands. I've got Nike on my feet, and Addidas pants, my socks are by le coq sportif, my shirt is by Ben Sherman, my glasses by Ray Bann, my watch is a Tag, but when I wear my Armani suit, I put on my Rolex. I drive a Merc for business and for pleasure I have the BMW.
See this belt buckle it is encrusted with real diamonds, and this ring on my little finger is worth a down payment for a mayfair flat. I've had all my teeth capped, and a hair transplant to cover that small bald patch that was developing on the crown of my head. The botox has removed all the lines and crows feet from around my eyes, and of course my nose is much smaller now. The spare tyre around my waist was removed by liposuction, and I wear a very discrete corset to keep the stomach flat. No-one ever notices because my suits are so well cut they disguise everything.
Look at me I have class. You see I buy only the best, and not only the best, but the most expensive. When you look at me you add up all the price tags of all the items I am wearing you must think to yourself that I must be somebody. Somebody with class, someone with taste, someone who is well stacked.
But every night I sleep naked.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
A bunch of flowers for mum
This is one of the photos that I like of all the photos I have ever taken. It is tender and fragile. No face just a small hand holding a bunch of wilting flowers with badly bent stems.
Every child at one time or another will gather flowers for their mother. They will pick the best they can get. The idea behind giving flowers is to make the person receiving them feel glad or happy.
The camera only captures the external, and it very rarely captures the heart.
For me this photo for some strange reason is all about love, and that makes me happy.
Every child at one time or another will gather flowers for their mother. They will pick the best they can get. The idea behind giving flowers is to make the person receiving them feel glad or happy.
The camera only captures the external, and it very rarely captures the heart.
For me this photo for some strange reason is all about love, and that makes me happy.
Monday, November 29, 2004
Robert G. jr and Annie B.
Dug out some old photos of my father and mother, and some of me as a kid. Old photos really have a story to tell. I found a couple of photos of my grandfather and his brother on horseback when they were out in Argentina. They look a couple of rough characters, ready to beat the shit out of you just for a laugh.
When we visited my Aunt Marjorie she told of some of their exploits in South America. It sounded a bit like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, busting out of jail and fleeing the country back to Scotland. I don't know if any of it was true, since they were stories passed on from my grandfather to his children. Everyone wants to make their history more exciting tan it really is. But then again history itself can make your life more exciting than you would ever want it to be.
It has been said that for any Scotsman to succeed then he has to leave Scotland. That was what was drumed into me by my father, who felt trapped in the village, condemed to a life of unemployment. Get educated and get out.
Education was the key to open doors. If you had no education then all that was on offer was a life down the mines, and you could see too many old miners standing on the corners coughing their lungs up, due to the amount of coal dust they had swallowed in a lifetime. Mining ruined your health. Education made you healthy.
When we visited my Aunt Marjorie she told of some of their exploits in South America. It sounded a bit like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, busting out of jail and fleeing the country back to Scotland. I don't know if any of it was true, since they were stories passed on from my grandfather to his children. Everyone wants to make their history more exciting tan it really is. But then again history itself can make your life more exciting than you would ever want it to be.
It has been said that for any Scotsman to succeed then he has to leave Scotland. That was what was drumed into me by my father, who felt trapped in the village, condemed to a life of unemployment. Get educated and get out.
Education was the key to open doors. If you had no education then all that was on offer was a life down the mines, and you could see too many old miners standing on the corners coughing their lungs up, due to the amount of coal dust they had swallowed in a lifetime. Mining ruined your health. Education made you healthy.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Working or cooking?
Freud said that a persons mental health can be judged by their capacity to work. I think a better estimate can be made if you can assess their ability to cook.
Today I watched my wife make bread. I looked at her as she kneeded the dough, cut it into decent sized portions, and formed and patted it into the shape of a roll. Flour was on the table, and on her fingertips, and a smudge on her brow.
The rolls were laid out on a grease proof paper to rise and then placed in the oven to bake. The smell in the kitchen was good.
In the afternoon I made shepherds pie. Peeled the potatoes and boiled them, and when they were ready mashed them and added butter and milk. The mince meat I fried with onions and spiced with salt and pepper. I greased a earthen ware dish with butter and mixed the mashed potatoes and mince together, and topped it off with some breadcrumbs and cheese.
We ate it together with homemade beetroot. It was a fine satisfying meal.
What can you say about people who do not cook? Those that have the money to eat out... those that can't make dough or peel a potato or slice an onion. Those that have never cut an onion in half and looked at its layers... those that have never cut those layers in criss-crosses to obtain diced onion.
The ones who never lay the table for a meal, who throw something in the microwave, and eat it off their bellies while slouched in front of the TV. Those that eat alone, where eating is a chore rather than a pleasure. Something you do to survive. Something to fill in time.
It is strange to say that there is immense satisfaction to be had from preparing veretables for a soup. Working with a good japanese knife to cut and to slice... and what do you think about as you cut... you think of shapes and sizes, you think of colour. There are so many ways to slice a carrot. The Chinese even have time to carve roses out of carrots.
My father as he got older, first of all he stoped working, and as Alzheimers set in he stoped cooking, and when he stoped cooking he stoped eating, and he wasted away. That was when we had to get meals-one-wheels for him because he lost track of time, and did not know when it was time to eat. If it was dark and six o'clock it could either be morning or night to him. He did not remember anymore. When we visited him he told the most elaborate lies about the wondeful meal he had cooked yesterday. He would describe making soup in great detail, but the plain fact of the matter he had not cooked for himself in years. We would sit an politely listen. It would be pointless to challenge him on the matter. Only the things that he remembered were real to him, and if he remembered making soup yesterday then he must have made soup yesterday, and he would not be convinced otherwise.
I remarked to Maija that I found it pleasurable to cook a meal every day, and she asked me when would I find it pleasurable to do the washing up.
I think that washing up is just a short step away.
Today I watched my wife make bread. I looked at her as she kneeded the dough, cut it into decent sized portions, and formed and patted it into the shape of a roll. Flour was on the table, and on her fingertips, and a smudge on her brow.
The rolls were laid out on a grease proof paper to rise and then placed in the oven to bake. The smell in the kitchen was good.
In the afternoon I made shepherds pie. Peeled the potatoes and boiled them, and when they were ready mashed them and added butter and milk. The mince meat I fried with onions and spiced with salt and pepper. I greased a earthen ware dish with butter and mixed the mashed potatoes and mince together, and topped it off with some breadcrumbs and cheese.
We ate it together with homemade beetroot. It was a fine satisfying meal.
What can you say about people who do not cook? Those that have the money to eat out... those that can't make dough or peel a potato or slice an onion. Those that have never cut an onion in half and looked at its layers... those that have never cut those layers in criss-crosses to obtain diced onion.
The ones who never lay the table for a meal, who throw something in the microwave, and eat it off their bellies while slouched in front of the TV. Those that eat alone, where eating is a chore rather than a pleasure. Something you do to survive. Something to fill in time.
It is strange to say that there is immense satisfaction to be had from preparing veretables for a soup. Working with a good japanese knife to cut and to slice... and what do you think about as you cut... you think of shapes and sizes, you think of colour. There are so many ways to slice a carrot. The Chinese even have time to carve roses out of carrots.
My father as he got older, first of all he stoped working, and as Alzheimers set in he stoped cooking, and when he stoped cooking he stoped eating, and he wasted away. That was when we had to get meals-one-wheels for him because he lost track of time, and did not know when it was time to eat. If it was dark and six o'clock it could either be morning or night to him. He did not remember anymore. When we visited him he told the most elaborate lies about the wondeful meal he had cooked yesterday. He would describe making soup in great detail, but the plain fact of the matter he had not cooked for himself in years. We would sit an politely listen. It would be pointless to challenge him on the matter. Only the things that he remembered were real to him, and if he remembered making soup yesterday then he must have made soup yesterday, and he would not be convinced otherwise.
I remarked to Maija that I found it pleasurable to cook a meal every day, and she asked me when would I find it pleasurable to do the washing up.
I think that washing up is just a short step away.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
I love a rainy day
Have you every wanted to get soaked in the rain, and shake yourself like a dog to get the water off you?
There was one mid-summer we took all of the kids for a picnic in the forest. We had bread, and a rice and tuna salad. We cycled into the forest to find a good place. We climbed up some rocks and found a good flat place and as we spread out the food on the ground, a black thunder cloud rolled over our heads.
Just as we started to eat, large heavy drops of rain began to fall. The raindrops were warm, and they made a sound like bubble wrap popping as they hit the ground. There was no discussion about packing up and heading off home. So we sat there and ate our food, hoping that the clouds would pass, but the rain picked up, and soon it was bucketing down. That sheet rain you could feel when it hits you.
The kids were wondering what the hell was going on. Mum and Dad were sitting in the rain, getting soaked and eating their food. They were not moving. They were not giving instructions to pack up and head back home, so the kids got stuck into their food, and got soaked as well. Their hair got wet and was plastered to their faces. Their T-shirts took on that transparent wet look. Trousers and jeans became slick and wet. We were looking at each other, observing how wet we all looked. We didn't actually get around to laughing at the absurdity of the situation, but there was a giggle bubbling inside.
Lawrence Durrell once said that his ambition was to be very still on the outside and dance around on the inside. As we sat in that summer downpour. Not running for cover, not hiding or taking shelter, just sitting on a bare rock being drenched, it seemed to be the perfect thing to do on a perfect day.
There was one mid-summer we took all of the kids for a picnic in the forest. We had bread, and a rice and tuna salad. We cycled into the forest to find a good place. We climbed up some rocks and found a good flat place and as we spread out the food on the ground, a black thunder cloud rolled over our heads.
Just as we started to eat, large heavy drops of rain began to fall. The raindrops were warm, and they made a sound like bubble wrap popping as they hit the ground. There was no discussion about packing up and heading off home. So we sat there and ate our food, hoping that the clouds would pass, but the rain picked up, and soon it was bucketing down. That sheet rain you could feel when it hits you.
The kids were wondering what the hell was going on. Mum and Dad were sitting in the rain, getting soaked and eating their food. They were not moving. They were not giving instructions to pack up and head back home, so the kids got stuck into their food, and got soaked as well. Their hair got wet and was plastered to their faces. Their T-shirts took on that transparent wet look. Trousers and jeans became slick and wet. We were looking at each other, observing how wet we all looked. We didn't actually get around to laughing at the absurdity of the situation, but there was a giggle bubbling inside.
Lawrence Durrell once said that his ambition was to be very still on the outside and dance around on the inside. As we sat in that summer downpour. Not running for cover, not hiding or taking shelter, just sitting on a bare rock being drenched, it seemed to be the perfect thing to do on a perfect day.
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