Coffee Culture

Meet me for coffee

Said the friend

and we shall sit

where poets sat

and talk of love and life and art

For

In that black brew

Swims music and thought

And as we hide

Behind our cappuccino froth

And sip Mocha - expresso - double decaf - latte

Arabica - Kenyan - Blue

Cafe-au-lait avec creme

We are all artists

Travellers

Lovers

Who meet in boulevards

In squares

In avenues

In morning after hotel rooms

Where

We dream our

Fitful

Coffee flavoured dreams

(Not original - found on paper coffee cup at the Eden Project, Cornwall, UK)

Blue - a view of Manchester, England

Chaz - you have made buildings express the heart of the city without making the cry they make a dismal one.

Too often cities are described in terms of pollution, rape, commercial exploitation and places from which to escape.

Your cities have a life, a depth of colour, an expectation.

Urban landscapes by Chaz Newton-Smith

The Beauty of a Grateful Heart

Neil Edbrooke pays tribute:

I remember we were all somewhat subdued. Alison was coming to join our prayer meeting but the discovery of the resurgence of her cancer had been a huge disappointment. Once again she and Jim were facing difficult decisions regarding treatment regimes and the impact of the illness on their life and future.

But we needn’t have been despondent. No doubt Alison had times of struggle – she told us she did. But here she came like morning sunshine – radiant, colourful. She often dressed in what seemed to me to be flowing robes: scarves, wraps, skirts, cloaks – all flowing and “swishing.” Not sure anyone could “swish” into a room like she did. Despite everything else that was happening in her and Jim’s life through this difficult experience, that morning Alison communicated an irrepressible spirit of gratitude. She spoke glowingly and appreciatively of her “men”, Tom, Chaz, Pete and of course, Jim. We talked and laughed freely over stories and enjoyed praying with renewed confidence. Whatever comes, Alison was saying, I know that God is trustworthy and He has made me wealthy – not in terms of money and possessions – but on deeper and richer levels, in friendships, family and through the people that I love. In her typically unselfconscious way, Alison showed us the beauty and attractiveness of a grateful heart.

Give Thanks with a Grateful Heart was the first song Jim chose to be sung at the Service of Thanksgiving for Alison’s life. The words do not deny our weakness or call on us to pretend to be strong when all is collapsing within. Rather, in the spirit of Jesus’ beatitudes, they speak of a different dimension to life, more substantial. In times of bereavement our sorrow and weakness cry out to someone who understands and who has gone ahead, who walked the same path: a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. Jesus identifies with our sense of loss and comes alongside.

The church was full with family and friends, coming to say goodbye, coming to give thanks. There were many tributes. Many more continue in our conversations. We shall miss Alison deeply.

High King of Heaven when battle is done
Grant heaven’s joys to me, bright heaven’s sun,
Christ of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, thou ruler of all.

DO YOU NOT KNOW

Do you not know
Have you not heard
The Lord is the everlasting God
The Creator of the ends of the earth
He will not grow tired and weary and his understanding no one can fathom
He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak
Even youths grow tired and weary and young men stumble and fall
But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength
They will soar on wings like Eagles
They will run and not grow weary
They will walk and not grow faint.

Tea With Daisy

Its another hot and sunny day with a hint of thunder in the air, but a good end to a difficult week.

So what do I do - I have tea with a very lively but sweet two year old. Daisy wants me to eat sand, play pretend catch and talk to her imaginary friends.

In the hurley-burley of a busy day "at the office" one has little time to consider the philosophy of the things we do, but how often do we find ourselves doing stuff that has no more or less merit than doing the adult world of eating sand, playing pretend catch and talking to imaginary friends.

Eating sand, playing catch and talking with imaginary friends is like the times we respond to business colleagues in a rather off hand and professional way just to keep them happy. We agree to do "stuff" in the hope that they will be satisfied, for at least a while, and then we can get on to do something REALLY important.

Except Daisy does it all for fun!!!!!

I wonder what global shift needs to take place in our thinking to allow us to bring back the fun into the serious things we do. Sure, be job focussed, but lets have a lot more fun doing it.

Wouldn't it be just great if a S.W.A.T. or S.M.A.R.T. analysis demonstrated the missing element, the key to increased efficiency or the magic bullet of success lay in chilling and having fun.

OK if I were Chief Executive of my organisation for one day I could demonstrate my decision making prowess by setting the Senior Managers the task of bringing fun into Financial Audit Control, Project Risk Analysis and Monthly Status Reports.

Or maybe I should hand everything over to Daisy!!!

First Thoughts

It is just four weeks since Alison died.

So far I have been rather too busy to let it all sink in. First there was the funeral arrangements to organise and then the sorting out of her personal affairs, letting the bank know, her former employer, the Dept of Work & Pensions etc, etc.

As Alison had been ill for some time, in fact since before the brain tumour was first diagnosed in 1999, I had begun to prepare myself for the worst and asked myself the big "what if" question, but being too afraid (perhaps) to actually come up with an answer!

I'm still not sure how I am going to react. The thing that I have reacted to most are the comments in her Book of Memories. Peter our 22 year old (and youngest son) gave Alison a smallish but brightly coloured hand made note book with loads of pages for Christmas, which he suggested we used as a book for people to sign and write tributes and recall fond memories at the Thanksgiving Service. This is our Book of Memories not Condolence.

I have been deeply moved, touched, inspired and all those sorts of wonderful words by what people have written. In fact it has taken me until now, nearly three weeks after the Thanksgiving Service, to summon up enough courage to read them. I tried a week or so back but found it all too emotional. Yesterday I managed to read them all, but then cried a lot.

I have found it difficult to know how to describe the loss and grief following the death of my beloved. I find it much easier to feel the emotion on behalf of other people. The friends she has left behind. The tributes shared at the Service showed how inspirational Alison was, how accepting and inclusive she was. I feel for many of these people because I had time to prepare, but for many the end of Alison's life was such a sudden and catastrophic event in the context of her fighting spirit and confidence in recovery that they have felt more trauma than I. I feel so much regret for them. Alison had the ability to make friends easily and have a number of "best" friends. She could adapt and show genuine interest in a variety of people's different interests and for her a day out shopping with one was just as important and exciting as helping another with a sewing project or encouraging a young friend in some particular area of concern or mutual skill.

Alison died aged 53, but she had friends in their 70s, 50s, 40s all the way through the age bands to include some teenagers and from all walks of life. Quite remarkable.

I have to ask myself whether I'm allowing them to grieve, as it were, on my behalf; vicariously.

So far its been little things that have triggered my emotions. The bird fluttering its wings in the hedge in the garden that sounded like the swish of a long skirt, the lack of a hello when I come into the house - even when she was really poorly there would be a weak smile and a "hello Jimjim". Oh how I miss that smile. The trouble is it had all but disappeared during the last year or so and I could see that Alison was changing, with the person I had known for 33 years being somehow shrouded by the illness.

Sleep is a problem. I feel so unsettled in most things, but particularly at night. Not because I'm overcome by sadness in the stillness of the night, I'm just unsettled. During the day I start lots of things around the house but flit from one thing to another. I'm unsettled. Its not right, there's a something missing.

Like a corner piece of a jigsaw; its needed to make sense of the other pieces.

Relections on a Life, Death and a Cross

With Regret

It is with much regret and emotion that I post this to let you all know that Alison, beloved wife and daughter, precious mother and dear friend died on Monday 19th June 2006.

Good Memory of a Long Summer, Shallow Water and Deep Talking!

Resurrection Morning

The Other Wedding Perspective

I had been up extra early that morning.

Yes, I know we have to get up before anyone else – it’s our job – it's my job.

But on that morning I resented it more – after all most of the people who came to the wedding were no better than me; builders, farmers, shop keepers, fisherman, you name it, they were there and oh yes, a carpenter.

A servant’s job is never done and if that’s my job, my station in life, that’s fine. I’ll serve my master and do what he bids, sometimes I grumble more than other times but overall its OK, I have a roof over my head and I don’t pay taxes!

But that day I was up a couple of hours earlier than usual to prepare for the wedding and also by the time the guests began to arrive I was felling pretty knackered, knowing there was still hours and maybe days to go before all the celebrations finished.

But you know what it’s like at weddings, people take advantage of you and even the small kids try and trip you up as you pass by balancing trays of food and drinks. You no sooner finish one job and you get told to do something else.

And what’s more: first thing that morning I’d been told to move all the water jars out of the way. That’s no easy job you know, they are all really big ones and an odd shape – not for the largest water jars as you know but they need those big three legged metal stands – neither the jars nor the stands are that easy to move, specially when its only muggins here having to do it all. Then, just as things seemed to be quietening down for a while and I thought I might be able to slip out to the barn for a quick nap, the Head Steward grabs me and tells me to get them all out again.

Go get them all I was told, “what all 12” I said. “Yes all 12” he said “and remember who you are talking to” he said.

It seems that the carpenter chappy wanted to do something. Well I thought, what would a carpenter, of all people, want with clay jars. Maybe he was going to do some party tricks – maybe it was some sort of entertainment.

It was his mum though who seemed to be in charge.

I was puzzled, the Head Steward was puzzled, the Master was puzzled and even the carpenter seemed a little puzzled – at least from where I was standing. He seemed, well, a bit reluctant.

I was looking from one to another, not quite knowing who was in charge, waiting for someone to say something.

Then he caught my eye, the carpenter that is, and suggested I went with some of the lads and filled the jars with water from the well.

As I turned to go I’m sure I saw him wink at me…………..

Books by Charles Dickens

When my mum died in 1993 I inherited a complete set of the books written by Charles Dickens. They have been on my bookshelf for the past 9 years, untouched and unread. They must be read, that’s what books are for!

Random Acts of Kindness

Have you ever been in line of traffic waiting to join the main highway and got cross because no-one would let you in?

Have you ever been at a supermarket check-out wanting to buy something and you only have cash and its not quite enough?

When did you last hold a door open for someone who was scruffy and not very polite?

I have started to look out for everyday and unusual situations when I can do something for somebody which is unexpected and helpful even if it appears not to have a significant value to me.

http://www.actsofkindness.org

Memories of Autumn Dew on Pink

 
 

Why Diets Don't Work

“The reason diets don’t work, no matter which one you contemplate, stems from the fact that diets are a short-term solution to a long-term problem.

Anytime my patients informed me that they were going on a diet it implied that sometime in the future they would be going off that diet. Often diets fail due to the tremendous amount of willpower required. Whenever you rely on willpower, you will generally not do very well. Diets also fail because many eliminate, or dramatically limit, a major macronutrient like carbohydrates or fats. Such diets are out of balance, and, sooner or later, our bodies begin craving the nutrients they have been denied. The most significant reason diets don’t work is because diets do not address the major underlying cause of weight gain, which is insulin resistance. So what is the answer to this obesity epidemic that will allow us not only to lose weight but to lose it permanently?”

Extract from Healthy for Life by Dr Ray Strand January 2006
www.bionutrition.org