Missing cat

 Cleo our three legged cat went out last Wednesday and has not come back. She has three legs because she came home months ago with a broken leg which the vet told us would not mend. He se the need to amputate. She was progressing well learning how to walk on three legs. She was upset in not being able to chase the squirrels off our garden or stalk the birds any more. We thought she would be content to stay in our garden but she was soon going to visit the rest of the Avenue. There was no way we could keep her in. 

It is a strange thing but there are certain times when I really miss her. When I get up in the morning to make a mug of tea for us both to sit in bed and drink, she was waiting at the door having gone out early. Every morning I expect her to be there waiting but my heart sinks when the patio is empty. I have noticed that a robin comes to sit on the wall round the patio now she has not been around for a week almost.

I live in hope that she will turn up though my hope is fading. There has to be a story in there somewhere. 

Going to Church

I am often asked why I give up my Sunday mornings to go to church. I explain about services and worship. Then I refer them to this passage from my novel A Ceremony of Innocence which is about the way a family dispute can escalate out of hand. This is especially true when the dispute is about the fundamental philosophy about how life should be lived. It is between the upper warily mobile brother and his ultra left wing brother.

" Do you still go to church when you are at home? " Karen asked as they climbed the stairs to her bedroom. " I can't recall you going to church while you have been at the university."

" Yes I still go sometimes when I am at home though I think it is more out of loyalty to mum and dad than out of any true conviction," Jim observed. " It is pleasant for us all to go together as a family."

He lent against the bedroom doorframe for a moment lost in thought. "Actually, I suppose it is not only out of loyalty to my parents. There is something about going to church on a Sunday morning that attracts me as well. I can't really explain what I mean to anybody else. Let’s face it. Most of my friends would wince if they heard me talk like this. When I walk through the door of the church after shaking hands with the elder, a sense of peace descends a peace that has nothing to do with the people in the church or with the building. It is something to do with the atmosphere in the room. As the elders and the minister come into the church preceded by one of their number carrying the bible, a feeling of expectation fills the air. It is not the same excitement and expectation which fills a crowd at a football match but a sense of being part of something far more important than mere earthly problems. There is a joy in the hymn singing that does not accompany even the most popular songs. It is as though the congregation is uplifted by their singing and the music, as though they truly believe in the words they are singing. During the prayers, the silence is such that you could hear a pin drop. There is this feeling that all would be well in the world if only everybody would listen to the message. It is strange for an iconoclast like me but during the communion I have felt the presence of somebody else, inside but outside of me so to speak. I know most Christians are sinners during the week and saints on Sunday but they do attempt to follow their creeds. So you see it is not only out of a sense of loyalty to my parents which makes me go to church with them while I am at home."

The novel can be purchased from Amazon as a paperback and Kindle to download. It contains sex scenes.

Where is God in the COVID pandemic.

Where is God in the pandemic?

As a practicing Christian I often get asked by people who do not go to church “ Where is God in this pandemic?” This is a very difficult question to answer. In my fantasy novel I tried to answer this question. Edward Eastland is confronted by a member of the Covenent the mysterious group of magicians. He states that his God has given them power and makes people bow down and obey the Covenenters. Edward stood up to his power when he tried to make him bow down and answered.

Stubbornly, Edward replied. “ My Maker is all powerful. He has given us all gifts in plenty. It is not in the nature of my Maker to bestow power but to give us guidance on how to live our lives and how to use the power we have for the benefit of all. If you believe in interference of a host of gods into the lives of men, we are no longer free agents to live our lives within the law or not. We have then become puppets. You have through your religion reduced mankind to mere playthings of the gods, a hollow vessel to be manipulated for the pleasure of the gods.”

 If we have free will God does not make us do anything. He has showed us all the way to behave by loving our neighbours. To my mind this has shown itself in the way people have helped others without the expectation of reward. If one good thing has come out of the pandemic it is the neighbourly spirit it has built up.

 

Racism in the church.

 We Christians have to own up to forms of racism in churches. It is not overt and many Christians would deny it happens. When we have new members there is a sense of welcoming but in some Christians there is an undercurrent of nervousness about people who are different. One of the problems might be the compartmentation of churches. Different denominations are reluctant to mix with other denominations. There is often a reluctance to admit that different ways of conducting services is right. They stick ridgidly to their way of doing things.

In my novel An Ordinary Life this question arises. Tom Houseman as a delegate from his church attends the Council of Churches committee. He meets the pastor of a mainly black church and they become friends. The black church is vandalised and Tom tries to get his church members to help clean his friends church. It is a Sunday and most of his church members refuse to help claiming it is a time of worship and anyway the black church is not their business. He wonders what would have been the reaction if the church had been predominantly white.

An Ordinary Life by Edmund Gubbins published through Amazon and available as a paperback from Amazon and as a download ebook from Kindle.

Listening to the wind

 Lying in bed listening to the storm outside with the wind whistling through the branches of the trees drew parallels with the storm we are facing in our lives. The virus has made us all change our way of living and wonder when it will end. Despite government’s assurances about the safety of leaving the house most people my age are still wary of venturing out. We have ventured a few times into town but it is a nervous time. It is not the people as old as us but the younger ones. They do not appear to understand social distancing. Some younger people get impatient and push the old out of the way. They are not wearing masks. It is as though they think because the young are not effected so much by the virus it does not matter about the affect on other people. Not all are like this and these keep their distance.

Our church has stair ted to hold services on a Sunday again. It is wonderful to be back in the building again after services on you tube or zoom. It is not the same. We all sit apart without masks on. We are not allowed to sing but must say the words of the hymns. The Lord’s Prayer is muted through the masks. There is no handshakes or hugging after the service just say goodbye and out of the door. I read the passages from the bible and was amused to find it was about a storm on the lake.

In my book of short stories, The Cigar And Other Stories, there is one about trying to turn a ship in a gale. That is the difference lying in bed listening to the wind of a night. On a ship the structure groans and rattles. As waves cross the deck and the bow digs into the water there is a bang. But as the song You’ll Never Walk Alone from the  musical Carousel says the storm will come to an end. We will conquer this pandemic but until we do everybody must play their part. 

My book of short stories is available from Amazon.

Fifty years of marriage.

 Is it really a year since we celebrated our golden wedding? Time flies by. My hairdresser asked me how I had managed to stay with the same person for tea length of time. I said because we love each other, are tolerant of each other’s faults and we are the best of friends. For our family dinner where not just my children And grandchildren came but many of my cousins, I wrote a poem:

Fifty

Side by side, hand clasping hand,

We have walked the byways of being 

Together for the past fifty years .

At times, sitting beside the still waters of life 

Relaxed, contented and gratified in our happiness.

Other moments we have lain in the sunshine

Basking in the brightness of our love for each other

Or slept in balmy, warm days of contentment.

Ignoring other people in our enclosed world.

We have stood on each side  of the raging torrent

Crashing against the rocks and rapids of our anger,

Separated, alone and baffled by our fury and ire

Starch stiff in the rightness of our cause.

Only to watch as the torrent slowly subsides

As a passing storm into our love for each other.

In ffifty years we have become more than lovers

But friends and constant companions.

Sharing each others  moments of triumph

Comforting one another in times of stress. 

Now with confidence and calm we find

The tingling of senses and the excitemen

As hand in hand we continue life's journey.

This has all been tested in the lockdown but we have come through still lovers and friends.

I read In the news paper some time ago about a couple who had been married for over fifty years and had then been separated by being sent to different nursing homes. From this came my novel Saving Grace where the man attempts to be reunited with his wife.

This can be purchased from Amazon

Poems and short stories

During the lock down I have been collecting together all the poems and short stories I have written mainly during my creative writing classes.

These are the three volumes I have self published so far.

Poems and the sea are written about my connection to the sea from the twelve years I spent as an officer in the British Merchant Navy and visits to the sea subsequently having moved as far away from the sea as is possible in the UK.

The Cigar and other stories are from my time at sea many of which formed the basis of my book Tales from the sea.

The Golden Age and other Poems is a collection of poems about life.

Purchase from Amazon.

Eddie Gubbins thrillers

Three thrillers as Ken Flood tries to help his brother.

Brotherly Love where Ken is asked by his brother to deliver a package to London. He finds he is pursued by people he did not know, Even worse he comes to regard anybody as an enemy except those friends who willingly try to help him. He does not know where to turn or where to hide. He as an academic is usually sure of what he is undertaking but now he is out of his depth. Should he help his brother or turn him into the authorities? That is If he knew who the authorities are. 

A Legacy From Mary is a situation where Ken gets involved again with his brother Norman when one of his research students is killed. A mugging gone wrong, the police told him. Then his friend Mary is killed in a car crash. A tragic accident, the police tell everybody. The one common factor is a country called Mengambi. Ken is asked to go there and organise a training programme. During his stay he tries to find out the connection and finds himself threatened with being killed.

For The Love Of Pauline where Ken’s daughter dies of a drugs overdose or so it is alleged. For once Ken in trying to find out who supplied the drugs which killed his daughter, asks his brother a Norman to help. This leads them into the dirty world of high crime where the top criminals think they are immune from prosecution. Threatened with being killed, Norman and Ken still seek to find out who runs the organisation.

Available from Amazon as paper backs and Kindle for downloading as ebook.

The environment

Once more the world is starting to think about the environment and the danger of climate change. This has been especially true during the lockdown in the Uk because the amount of traffic had fallen both on the roads and in the air. People are hearing birds song in towns and cities clearly. 

The commentators are still it seems reluctant to mention the elephant in the room. A great deal of the problem stems from the increase in population world wide. There are too many people now and there is an increase. One only has to look at refugee camps where crammed into tents are families with six or seven children. More people means more travel,, more cars and more energy used. All this pushes global warming and pollution to greater heights. Religious leaders like the Pope do not help by denying women family planning. They encourage bigger families.

More people more land needed to grow food, more trees cut down. More land needed to build houses for people to live in. More people more roads and bigger airports. There are technical ways to mitigate the effects of pollution, electric vehicles, electric heating of homes, cleaner energy. 

What should happen is that some of the aid budgets from international organisations should be channeled into helping women family plan and reduce the size of families. The Pope should be educated in 5he need for leadership in this. God gave us the ability to enjoy sex without creating babies. 

Let us hope some influential people take up this theme and start a movement.

A golden age - poem

The Golden Age?

There used to be pubs on Market Square

Named after heroes

The Lord Nelson, King George or Prince William,

Or mythical beings 

The Griffin, Green Man or Unicorn.

With a snug, a lounge and a bar.

Where smoke curled and swirled, round dark oak beams,

Like the smog in Bleak House.

Men in dull grey jackets and  shiny ties,

Lounged on wooden benches, 

By tables scarred with stubbed out fags

Topped out with over flowing ashtrays.

Drinking mild, bitter or boilermakers,

The consistency of the silt laden stream 

Which flowed at the bottom of the yard.

The drink went down to the thud of darts

Or the clack of dominoes on a board.

Ladies sit with their men in the lounge

Drinking port and lemon the colour of blood.

Or in the snug

Gossiping about the pregnant teenager from down the road,

Or Mrs. Smith and her brood and her men.

The barmaid wobbled her large breasts

As she pulls the pints for indifferent drinkers,

Thinking of rich men and sun kissed beaches.

A dyed blond night lady pulls up her skirt

Revealing nylon clad legs and smiling,

Hoping that some man would talk and take her home.

The other women turn up their noses, shake their heads,

Making plain that she was an outcast.

Now the pubs have gone.

Turned into banks and shops.

New theme pubs have been designed,

All chrome and leather,

With flashing screens and loud music,

Where drinkers guard their bottles of larger 

Which come from God knows where.

The girls prance around, Salome without the veils,

Attracting the boys in only their shirt sleeves,

Even when the ice is on the ground and breath freezes on the nose.

Once at ten thirty, people would stagger home,

Now they spill out onto the square,

Falling, vomiting, shouting, laughing, growling and fighting

Before staggering towards the night club

Where Mrs. Bennet's dancing school once stood, 

Teaching the young to twirl and prance 

To the beat of a dance band.

Now lights flash, mist spreads from hidden blowers

Bodies gyrate and grind.

Times change.

Poems and the Sea

These are poems written about the sea and my connection to the sea. They are a companion to my semi autobiographical novel Tales From The Sea. Many were composed during exercises in my creative writing class. Available from Amazon.

There are still dockers working at unloading and loading ships but they are becoming a dying breed in Europe as more cargo travels in containers. This is my salute to them. 

The Docker

Boxes, bales, crates, and bags

All shapes, all sizes and all weights

Grab, lift, heave, pull and push

With murderous looking hooks

All shining steel and wooden handles

Used sometimes to settle scores

Behind the shed way out of sight.

Aching muscles, creaking joints

A docker’s bane, a risk to take.

The patch of sky above our heads

Shows clouds rushing on the wind

Or sun casting shadows on the deck

Hidden, darkened as the next lift comes

On noisy crane and whirring wires

Another load to push in place

Stowed to reach some distant port

Unbroken, undamaged and intact.

Ten o’clock, a mug of tea

Then back to push and pull

And stow some more.

Lunch box opened one o’clock

In the shelter by the shed.

Just a brief relaxing break 

Before we descend once more

Into our small square world

Where we work

Home that night for dinner

After to the docker’s club

To talk of cargoes and of ships

Bound for those exotic ports

 Singapore, Bangkok Hong Kong

Then back to bed to get some rest

Before another stint 

Down in the hold.

Eddie Gubbins

Self isolating 5

Here I am still confined to my house and garden. At least the weather is sunny though with a keen easterly wind making it feel cool at times. I still see people walking by and wish I could join them. We in tgebUK are waiting to hear the statistics about those who tested positive for the virus, were sent to hospital but have survived. Surely these numbers will give people more reassurance than all this talk of dying.
I try not to criticise other countries elected politicians especially as the people of that country have voted for them. It is different with dictators. I have to admit that President Trump is acting recklessly in lifting controls on movement. We all hope it will not lead to a rise in cases but it is dangerous.
On a domestic note. We booked a holiday in Newquay in May with Shearings and the holiday is cancelled. They will not refund the money but offer another holiday instead for when the pandemic is passed. We do not want another holiday next year. The one we booked is the one we want. I think we should get a refund now. If this is how Shearings treat their valued customers, there should be a boycott of future holidays. Up to now we have been happy with Shearings.
Enough of my ranting. I will keep doing the exercises, gardening and my writing.

The Old Man By the Sea

A poem for all those over seventy who are stuck at home self isolating. watching the world go by.

THE OLD MAN BY THE SEA

The sound of the sea on the beach

The  swish, slap, swish of water 

Rushing in and rushing out

Like life, ever moving, never still

Elbow on knee, fist under chin 

A man sits lost in his thoughts

Hearing the sounds of the sea

Breeze stirring his grey hair

Thinking of life and liberty?

Of philosophy and beliefs?

Or daydreaming of times gone by.

Memories of things that got away.

He sits wondering at lost dreams

At meandering paths wandered 

And thinks deep in his soul

Life’s a bugger when we get old.

From my book of poems Poems and the Sea obtainable from Amazon.

Self isolating 4

I have been not leaving the house and garden for such a time now that I have started to organise my life.
I have found some exercise sessions for the over 60s on you tube and put myself through one of these every other day. If it does not get me fit at least it makes me feel I am doing the right things.
There are performances streamed by the Natinal Theatre and the Royal Opera House which I have started to watch. Last week One Man Two Governors and Cosi Fan Tutti. Next it is Jane Ayre.
It was a shame that church was shut. It is not the same watching a service via you tube especially Easter Sunday. That said I have nothing but praise for the service streamed on you tube.
Keeping in touch with the family is difficult. Face time video phone calls and messenger are helpful. At least we see our families especially the grand children.
I still watch people walking by and wish I could go out. I am sticking to the resolution that people over 70 and with health problems should not go out. As I have said before, at least we have a garden. The tomato seeds I planted are growing as is one corvette but my beans are not showing any signs of sprouting. I hear you say patience Edmund, patience. The seed potatoes I have p,anted a few weeks ago ate starting to show.
Having a routine Takes me back to when I was serving in the British merchant navy as chronicled in my book Tales From The Sea.

Self isolating 3

I watch people walking their dogs through the window, others jogging by and some walking for their daily exercise. I am stuck at home and wish I could go for a walk. Of course with me I live on a house with a garden which I can walk around in the fresh air. Even cutting the grass and digging my vegetable patch means I am getting exercise. I have to feel really sorry for those who live in apartments with no access to the outside.
My seed potatoes are on the windowsill chatting up. When they are ready to plant I hope the cold snap is over. I have planted some French beans in pots to bring on. My daughter gave me a pack of seeds with different plants like striped tomatos and purple carrots. I will plant these in pots soon.
Every day I undertake the exercises I was given by the heart smart medics after my heart attack. I hope this is helping keep me fit. I have been weighing myself regularly and do not appear to be putting on weight.
On Sunday it was strange not going to church. We watched a service which had been posted on line. It was different without a congregation. It reminded me of a paragraph in my novel Running After Maria. James has been through a really bad time, he suffers from depression and lashes out at anybody who tries to help. One day he goes to church something he has not done for years and hears this passage from the bible:

" Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." 

It makes him see life in a different light. Maybe we all need something like this to help us through the  times we are enduring.

We have wonderful neighbours who are shopping for us and bringing us cakes the girls have baked. And a friend who has fetched my repeat prescription from the pharmacy.
Ha well back to watching people walk by!

Helping the self employed

Helping the self employed

Now those self employed who worked for cash so they did not pay VAT or other taxes are feeling the pinch. When they told me I was a fool for refusing to pay cash, I reminded them that their taxes payed for the NHS. Now I hope they regret their actions!

Then there are those so called celebrities who used all legal and non legal means to cut their tax bill until they were paying less than the PA Y E people. Do they have any regrets about not paying their fair share and now seeing the NHS struggle to cope because of the cuts to their budgets. I suppose they do not care because they can go private and not have to mix with the dirty masses.

Finally there are the financial operators who helped them set up these tax avoidance schemes. Do they regret what they did? Are their parents struggling to find medical help because of their machinations.

Shame on you all.

Self isolating 2

No church today because it is shut. Missed it terribly this morning especially meeting all my friends. Listened to the Archbishop of Cantebury instead and wondered why he was so miserable. He is supposed to be giving us all hope and up lifted spirits. The only problem was his message might be full of hope but it did not up lift me at all.
I was cheered when Jenny and Paul delivered the food shop they had ordered and picked up on our behalf. What a contrast to the selfish people who are grabbing what they can without any thought for other people. I have met many people like that in my long life but then you are suddenly confronted with somebody who does something out of kindness with no thought of reward. These are the people who deserve our admiration.
It is a blessing that be weather is dry and I can go into the garden. Not like people self isolating in flats with no outside.
Oh my lottery was fetched for me by a friend but unfortunately I had no numbers. I was not using my lucky pen though my daughter laughs at the suggestion of a lucky pen as I very rarely win any thing.
Trust everybody is following the advise and keeping their distance or staying away from other people. Our friend is on a nursing home but we cannot visit which is a shame.

Self isolating

Day three of self isolating
It is Saturday and the restrictions are starting to come home to me. Tuesday was supposed to be my Heart Smart gym day which was cancelled. Wednesday a trip to the cinema was not possible. Thursday I was not able to play darts which may have been a blessing because we are second bottom and playing the top team! Then Friday my creative writing class was cancelled. Today there is no football on the television or at the King Power stadium. Tomorrow will not be the same when we have no church to go to.
On the bright side it has been dry and I have been able to cut the grass and help Anne start to tidy the garden. Also my book of short stories  The Cigar and Other Stories the proof copy has arrived. I will have plenty of time to make sure all is correct.
We are blessed with neighbors and friends who have rallied round to do shopping and get my lottery ticket. People are so kind in contrast to the savages who are hoarding food and stripping supermarkets. How much of this food will be thrown away? How selfish can people get? Even more worrying are the reports of younger people pushing old people out of their way to grab food. Is this a product of the me first age which comes from so called celebrities.

Poems and the sea by Edmund Gubbins

Poems and the sea by Edmund Gubbins

These are poems written about the sea and my connection to the sea. They are a companion to my semi autobiographical novel Tales From The Sea. Many were composed during exercises in my creative writing class. Available from Amazon.