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Stones and Plants

14/06/202514/06/2025 / Matters Blog - Things that Matter to Me / Leave a comment

Having reached what is known in common parlance as ‘a ripe old age’, there occurs to me certain insights about the nature of human beings.

Principally, one is given to conclude that human souls, during their own short but sweet personal evolution, consist of two types;

The first might considered to be ‘stones’; that is having as much knowledge and personal charm as a stone. This is not to ‘put down’ the mineral kingdom through comparison with those who are more obviously ‘alive’ and ‘should know better’. Indeed I have personally a great regard for stones of all kinds, as a result of my scientific theoretical understanding of ‘geology’ and ‘geomorphology’ and an artistic appreciation of the significant contribution of stones to the beauty of landscapes. Indeed I have in my possession companion stones, exhibiting curious colours, shapes, sizes, weights etc., as well as natural crystals of miraculous hues and geometries, precious minerals derived from 0res, and indeed a house made entirely of stones giving me shelter from whatever the weather and life is inclined to throw at me. Stones, in short, rock.

More metaphysically, I am one of those stark-raving-mad-nics who regard the mineral kingdom as having a complete social structure. This comprises of a noble King and Queen, courtiers and other ‘hangers on’ who are likewise, to be found in the human realm, where matters of high office and rank are ‘out for grabs’. It is true for me, and no doubt certain other ‘cranks’ party to ‘outlandish persuasions’, that the entire earth’s crust and what is below, goes about it’s business in a most conscious, caring and controlled manner. What I am trying to say is that the whole mineral kingdom is as much alive as you or I, but slower…look at a geological time chart to see how aeons pass by as stones do, in short, very little. As one who is a mere butterfly in comparison to the length of life of minerals, I believe that conscious evolutionary changes are almost impossible to observe in stones due to their considerable slow rate of change in all aspects of their lives. From another perspective, we to stones are no more than a spark lifted out of a metaphorical camp fire, which exhausts itself on oxygen in less than a second.

It is this particular quality of stones that brings them to mind as an apt metaphor for the subject of this essay; which I promise I shall come to when the twinkle of the moment is ‘right’. You see, in my unique and therefore unusual opinion, there are certain human beings who are born, live and die with much the same enthusiasm, as a stone. Their brief nascence appears to be a complete quandary to them; to and about which they show little curiosity or even care. They probably are not conscious that ‘existence’ is, in contrast, an issue of considerable fascination for others in their society. As a result, their life consists of certain fixed stations and ideas, about all and nothing, with which they bore those who are unfortunate enough to be within earshot of them. The aspirations of these ‘stone people’, one might conclude, are summarised in the word, horizontal.

Such stones are not the type with whom you wish to spend time in awkward situations, such as ‘stuck-in-a-lift’ or ‘drifting-in-a lifeboat’, following the occurrence of a power cut or submersion of a poorly navigated ocean liner.

Least of all to be desired, is the idea of forming a relationship with them if you any have a regard for wonder in life; with all it’s twists and turns and curiousnesses. Should you mention in polite conversation or correspondence to one of these mineralised munchins, a matter of considerable interest to yourself, you can certainly expect a glazed expression in place of an informed response, followed by a ‘passing on or over’ your interests in order to talk about something more agreeable to themselves, such as the price of cheese or cucumbers.

On the other hand, patient reader, as you probably are, up until now, eagerly anticipating information about the alternative human type; ‘champ at the bit’ no more. For there is a type of homo sapien sapien who exhibits a completely opposite metaphorical disposition to life than stones; these are ‘plants’. In a sustainably organic way, these merry souls plough through life, planting seeds, irrigating fields, de-pesting, fertilising and generally invigorating life’s very soil, in extremis. Naturally they pass on this envigoration to all fellow humans with whom they come into contact.

Theirs is a life exhibiting a general compulsion to explore ever aspect of their inner self as well as the eminently curious and absorbing exterior world. If change of direction is needed, they will mentally and emotionally transform themselves upwards, in order to enjoy new vistas and ways of seeing, much as in the manner of a broad bean plant escaping the humdrumness of ‘root consciousness’. One is reminded of the wisdom of Jack and his fabled ‘Stalk of a Bean’ through the ascent of which, he returned with a notable harp and a hen that laid solid 24 carat gold eggs.

picture credit: Jack and the Beanstalk – a silent film – (1902)

Being ‘rooted’ is no more an insurmountable challenge for humans of the plant-like nature, than it is for a physically disabled person to overcome their ‘limitations’ and discover wonderful gifts, that otherwise would have been unknown or unavailable to them.

In summary, plant people are eminently the best to grow with, and if you let them, they will lift you out of any circumstance in which you might find yourself ‘rooted’. They will always find out about some thing or matter if they do not know the answer, because they are aware of the fluid nature of knowledge and the fact that ‘not knowing’ carries no shame or closure of opportunities, but is eminently instructive and a ‘good moist and shady spot to start’. In an entirely organic manner, a plant person will carry you along with a skip in their step and a smile on the tips of their leaves, waiting to respond to a challenge, good or bad, and in so doing, gaining the attitude and skill of being able to overcome anything.

With a small amount of reflection and observation of future meetings and relationships with those whose nature is enclosed in a homo sapien sapien animal body, you should, I advise you; be acutely in remembrance of these two human types.

The magic of Mother Earth and Plants meeting;
Spherical Plasma Information Vortexs’s at work in Wiltshire, England this month.

picture credit: fr.news.yahoo.com

Perhaps this knowledge begins some self reflection as to in which corner you reside? If it does, then it is my personal understanding and belief that we are all to different extents and purposes, sometimes a rock and sometimes a plant and sometimes neither; the latter, from which, nothing good will happen.

Agro and Shampoo

05/09/202111/12/2021 / Matters Blog - Things that Matter to Me / Leave a comment

What is it with Hotels? I have to admit to having a problem with them.

The clue is in each hotel room. Central to the arrangement of most hotel rooms is a bed and a bed is generally, for sleeping in. And there we have the crux of where I find most hotels get it wrong. The whole notion that their guests basically just want to comatose, appears to be foreign to them. Because of this fundamental misunderstanding, much of what hotels provide becomes a waste of effort and money for all parties. People who want to sleep and or are asleep, do not require a conference suite, a swimming pool, a spa, a restaurant, a dining room, a library, a grand view of the city, an entertainment programme, a stage, a discotheque, wide screen television for sports coverage etc. etc.

We just want a bit of peace, and a toothbrush.

Instead, you get aggravation and cheap shampoo.

The problem with so called ‘facilities’ is generated in part by the hotel star system, which awards stars not on the quietness of the hotel and politeness of its staff, but on the breadth of it’s facilities.

I can accept there may be families and business travellers who intend to spend days and weeks in the hotel and need these things. In this case these quests should be directed to hotels which do not provide an environment for guests to sleep.

If I were head of the United Nations Peace on Earth Commission (if they don’t have one, they should), I would categorise hotels between places of rest and the rest. I would award ‘bed’ symbols for quietness rather than ‘stars’ for what are sources of sleep deprivation.

Perhaps it is time to give some examples of what I mean. I look back to earlier last year when I went with friends to a charming town in the Alpujarras in Southern Spain. The hotel where we stayed the night had a central courtyard around which corridors accessed private rooms. The floors and walls were compleltely tiled. This meant that every footstep was amplified depending on the size of guests steel toe caps. Every cough, conversation and slamming door, was heard by everyone. My friends in the morning, complained that they had to endure a woman talking for two hours on her mobile phone in the corridor, before they could get to sleep.

Continue reading →

A Christmas White House Carol

12/10/202014/10/2020 / Matters Blog - Things that Matter to Me / Leave a comment

It is Christmas Eve in the Whitehouse. The view across the famous lawns sparkles in the street lamps. Squirrels hop playfully from tree to tree in the thick snow and at the front door, a line of limousines wait patiently.

If we approach one of the snow hung windows we can look in and observe the scene. Bedecked with all kinds of seasonal decorations, the long mahogany table is encompassed by seated guests. At the head of the table is President Biden. His calm manner brings a sense of peace to the room and his family and guests converse quietly to one another. In the distance we hear the faint clash of kitchen ware as staff prepare to bring in a most special meal.

Suddenly there is a commotion on the steps of the Whitehouse! A tall cloaked figure is gesticulating frantically and pleading with the Secret Service to let him in.

‘Oh come on! Let me in, please. This used to be my home! Let me speak to Joe. I want to apologise for everything. I have been a bad, bad person but no more! Tell him I am here to see him…pleeease.’

Could this be Donald Trump? He is bent down on one knee with his hands together, as if in prayer.

If we quickly move back to look through the dinner scene window, we can see an aide whispering in the Presidents ear. Joe Biden’s jaw drops and his eyes stare into space. Without hesitation, he pushes back his chair and rushes out of the room.

For a few minutes nothing happens. The hooded figure on the steps, which is indeed, Donald Trump, has been allowed to step in out of the cold.

The guests sit bemused looking at each other before two embracing figures burst into the room. When Mr Trump sees the assembled guests he falls to his knees and sobs.

We must press our ears to the glass and listen carefully for he is talking, not in his loud manner, but softly.

‘Oh friends, dear sweet friends. Hear me just for one moment and then throw me out if you want to. I am nothing. I have been a bad, bad boy I know and I am so, so, so sorry. But since that awful Corona Virus thing which almost killed me, and the First Lady and had us both in our graves, which is all we deserved I must say, I have seen the light!

A gasp went around the room and then subsided.

I know I upset a lot of people. I know I did. But I didn’t know what I was doing because I only cared for one person all the time. I am ashamed to say that was not my beautiful wife Meliana. No, no, it was worse than that. It was me. I was proud, deceitful, ingratiating, ignorant, manipulative, vengeful, greedy…why am I telling you all my secrets? Because I was also stupid and I didn’t see you could see all those bad characteristics of my bad character.

But you know what? When I was lying in my hospital bed with tubes going into my lungs, an angel came to me.

There was a pause for dramatic effect and Donald looked blankly at the window as if deeply moved by the memory. He continues;

Well two actually and they sat at the end of my bed looking at me as if to say, ‘we know what you are like and we want to help you change.’ I listened to them for hours. They showed me lots of things, terrible things that I have done, there on the hospital ward ceiling like a movie. I behaved so badly. I hurt everyone including this beautiful – sooo beautiful – planet by not listening to those climate change scientists. And the way I put down the great President Obama and the wonderful – so kind – Obama Care plans he had for poor sick people which I just trashed all the time and promised to get rid of. I was so unkind. Even to the tax collector of the United States of America, I thought I could pull the wool over everyone’s eyes and have more money for myself. Money, yes, money and lots of it.

Well tonight that has all finished. I have just come from meeting all the staff who work for me in Trump Tower. I gave them all wonderful amazing presents and new clothes for their children and theatre tickets and anything they asked for, because they worked for a monster, yes they did, who didn’t even know their names or shake a hand and say thank you, ever. Well that has all gone. I am telling you now that that Tower of Babel is going to be sold and the proceeds given to the sick children of America. Every single one of them so help me God!’

You could see from the shocked, but caring expressions on the faces in the candlelight, that the speech had affected each of them to the core. President Biden called for another chair and a new place was laid at the table. A rather stooped figure sat on the chair and smiled in a way no one had seen him do before.

It was a happy smile straight from the heart of a man who had come to value truth and the simple virtue of being himself and loving all other beings, more than himself.

Cuckoo Cats

16/05/202016/05/2020 / Matters Blog - Things that Matter to Me / Leave a comment

There is something very strange about cats. Now don’t get me wrong, I am one of the half of the population who adores furry felines – the other half giving allegiance to cuddly canines. Like Brexit, this is disunity within the United Kingdom, is unlikely to ever go away.

However, let me explore the enigma of cats. I am going to express an opinion that some may find absurd, but I crave their indulgence as I describe the facts as I choose them to be.

Firstly, isn’t it odd that cats turn up in large numbers in Ancient Egypt – getting on for 5000 years ago?

‘Get in you basket – Bastet’

So many were mummified, that their swathed remains were once used as a form of domestic heating. There was even a minor god who was a cat – see above. Being a cat in Egypt in those days was probably a pleasant incarnation – provided you kept away from the embalming and mummification factory.

But it is odd that prior to the rule of the pharaohs, domestic cats even existed. Some how the ‘big cats’ of Africa, had been genetically engineered to become ‘small cats’ or ‘pussy cats’. Were lions somehow persuaded to model for the famous Sphinx ( a lion before it was repurposed as a blokes head ) ?

Did big lions take up sitting around the camp fire at night with the nomadic tribes? Were these lions engineered through unnatural selection to become – small, domesticated lions?

What is also interesting is how small they did not become. There are no mouse size cats. Such a creature would have to put up with a fair fight with the mice – rather than the easy kills the cats enjoy today. Yes, cats were decided to be the size of a human baby – almost exactly – a small mature cat weighing in at around eleven pounds. Picking up a cat and supporting the hind legs by cradling the arms, is exactly how human babies are carried. Cats and babies look up at you and then around the room from a this new view, in exactly the same way.

Warning to cat owners how cats explode if on the wrong diet

It gets more odd. Cats and human babies make the same high pitched screaming sound when requiring attention. Any one who has been accompanied by a cat in a car, on the way to the vets or next ‘forever home’, will know how deeply unsettling the cat will make the car occupants. The whining will be near enough constant and totally disproportionate to the level of comfort the cat is being afforded by the air conditioned, smooth, silent ride. ‘What is your problem!’ you will hear people say both to their babies and their cats. Ultimately, both species get their way, whatever the time of day or night.

Then I realised what was going on with cats. All of this ‘babyishness’ is a deliberate ploy to make humans think, unconsciously, that they are not cats, but babies. It’s a brilliant stroke of unnatural selection, to force humans to ‘take in’ cats – whether welcome or not.

My own experience of cats is that there is no system of choice or purchase when becoming a cat owner. A cat, somehow – from somewhere – turns up and demands entry into your home. Very soon the game starts where it explains to the besotted human that the price of stroking it’s fur is food – regularly and plenty of it.

And in this way, I extend the parallel between cats and babies (who also want food regularly and in vast quantities) to birds. Not just all avians but one species in particular. Can you guess?

‘Doesn’t he look just like his Mum?’

Yes, it’s the cuckoo. Well the clue was in the title I know but you might have forgotten it by now. Yes, cats operate in the same way as cuckoos. The name for this technique of seeking foster parents for spare eggs is an ‘obligate brood parasite’. And the cuculos canorus is not the only one playing this game-for-the-innately lazy.

Mother cats push their brood out at some point; into the big wide world. Kittens on Facebook have unaturaly selected to look both frail and fanciable – a kind of Marilyn Monroe come hither look. ‘You want to prrrrrrrrotect me – Mr. Prrrrrrrrrresident’ delivered in husky tones before the high screaming begins in the kitchen post coitus.

No, I am not saying MM was a cat – although ‘pussy cat’ might be the right badge of honour – no, I am saying the kittens / ergo cats, are full on con-merchants, checking out every nook and cranny before calmly adopting a pre-dinner sleeping position in what was once, your private home.

I have four cats whom I adore, and every one of them – I now realise – has obligated itself into my home with the natural charm of a film star come used car salesperson. Thanks to the Ancient Egyptians or whoever first thought up ‘baby sized lions’ – half of the human race has become cat crazed.

The other half of humans? Well they have to own up to the fact that they have adopted a baby sized wolf-monster, that uses every trick in the book -like ‘undying loyalty’ to get the human to obligate as well.

Woof! woof!

The Fishdemic of 2020

05/05/2020 / Matters Blog - Things that Matter to Me / Leave a comment

Once upon a time – like now – there was an Ocean full of fish. Over the years some fish grew bigger than others. Eventually there were seven large fish and millions of small ones. The big fish consumed most of the food and lived in the warmest and sunniest parts of the Ocean, leaving the small fish to live in holes in the coral and sea bed. Here they made as much of their lives as they could, but there was constant quarrelling and fighting for territory because they had so little.

The big fish were not happy with this ‘chaos’ amongst the masses so they thought up a plan to keep the little fish in their control. They decided to spread a story that the water was poisoned and the little fish had to stay in their holes and in the sand, to keep themselves and their families safe. To make the story realistic they showed the little fish pictures of hospitals full of little fish dying of poisoned water. This was something that happens all the time in the Oceans but little fish have no idea of how big the problem is and whether they should worry. So the big fish exploited this ignorance and employed scientist fish to show how plastic particles were in the water and little fish were dying. Each day the counter was displayed on their televisions of how many little fish had died that day. Up and up and up went the numbers and the scientists drew graphs to make the problem easier to understand.

The little fish obeyed the strict rules not realising that these numbers of fish die every year and the situation was unfortunate but normal. They stopped doing their work amongst the coral reefs and lived on whatever food the big fish let them have. They felt terribly sorry for themselves. They watched graves of little fish being dug in front of their holes, which was actually a clever plan by the big fish to frighten them more.

The big fish knew that when fish are frightened they are more likely to die and the whole sorry business became self fulfilling.

Eventually, after several months, the big fish allowed the little fish to come out under very strict rules. They took away most of the freedom that the little fish used to enjoy. If there were complaints, the big fish reminded them of how they had solved the problem of the plastic in the water and how arguing and quarrelling amongst the little fish had now stopped.

The big fish kept the little fish alive on crumbs falling from the warm and sunny surface waters where they lived. The seven big fish lived happily ever after.

Agro Soap and Shampoo

19/01/2020 / Matters Blog - Things that Matter to Me / Leave a comment

What is it with Hotels? I have to admit to having a problem with them, however hard I try explain what I expect and need when booking.

A great big sleeping thing called a BED

The clue is in each hotel room. Central to the arrangement of most hotel rooms is a bed and a bed is generally, for sleeping in. And there we have the crux of where I find most hotels get it wrong.

The whole notion that their guests basically just want to comatose, appears to be foreign to them. Because of this fundamental misunderstanding, much of what hotels provide becomes a waste of effort and money for all parties. People who want to sleep and or are asleep, do not require a conference suite, a swimming pool, a spa, a restaurant, a dining room, a cinema, a grand view of the city, an entertainment programme, a stage, a discotheque, wide screen television for sports coverage etc. etc.

We just want a bit of peace, a toothbrush and a razor.

Instead, you get aggravation, a piece of soap and shampoo.

The problem with so called ‘facilities’, is generated in part by the hotel star system, which awards stars not on the quietness of the hotel and politeness of its staff, but on the breadth and extent of it’s facilities.

I can well imagine there are many families and business travellers who intend to spend days and weeks within the confines of the hotel and need these things, in which case these quests should be directed to hotels which are not focused on providing an environment for guests to sleep.

If I were head of Tourism in the United Nations International Peace on Earth Mission (if they don’t have one they should) I would categorise hotels between places of rest and unrest. I would award ‘bed’ symbols for quietness rather than ‘stars’ for what ends up being sources of disturbance.

The clue that you don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to notice

Perhaps it is time to give some examples of what I mean about a hotels lack of sympathy to some guest’s needs and expectations. I think back to earlier last year when I went with friends to a charming town in the Alpujarras in Southern Spain. The hotel where we stayed the night had a central courtyard around which corridors accessed private rooms. The floors and walls of the corridors were tiled which meant that every footstep reverberated ten fold depending on the quality of the steel in toe caps. Even worse, my friends in the morning complained that they had to endure a woman talking for two hours on her mobile phone in the corridor, before they could get to sleep.

Last month, I booked a hotel on line seeking quietness above all other features. After as extensive a search as possible in a holiday town full of hotels and hostals of all descriptions, I decided upon a hotel. When I arrived I discovered it faced a busy main road, a feature no included in the photographs or descriptions. Worse than that, there were only five rooms and these were directly above a restaurant and bar.

When I asked the owner for a quiet room I was told that they were all quiet and if I didn’t want to listen to the traffic I only have to close all the windows. I said I liked fresh air, just to put myself amongst a minority of guests. She informed my that no noise would come from the bar except that tonight there was a Liverpool football game on and it might get noisy.

Leeeeeverpoool!

Later that evening as the game started, I wandered down to look for the source of the excitement. The door between the boisterous football fans and the corridor to the sleeping guests had been propped open, as if there was no issue at all for those in the restaurant. I had to ask the owner to close the door – which I suspected should be closed under fire regulations in any case. The owner was obliging but I had to wonder why it was necessary for me to ask. What is going on in the heads of people who rent out rooms for people to sleep in?

I abandoned this hotel as quickly as I could and appeared at another in the same town, that I had booked on line. It was the right time and day but the hotel stood adamantly closed.

I telephoned and knocked repeatedly but nothing I could do could help me. So, dragging my suitcase along the paving slabs I set off to find another. I was fortunate to find one open and rang the reception bell. I explained that I was tired and just wanted a quiet room at the back of the hotel.

The male receptionist said this was no problem and lead me key in hand, to a room at the front of the hotel overlooking the road. I was too tired to argue and eager to get an early night under the thick duvet and crisp white sheets. It was probably an hour before the problem began. Somebody started practising the piano in my room. Well, it was so loud it sounded as though they were in my room, or at least in the corridor. I peeked into the corridor expecting to see a smiling child on a piano I had not noticed earlier. Nothing. So I had to dress and bang the reception bell once more. I explained my problem of not being able to sleep. The receptionist said that it was not late in his view and that there was an apartment in the hotel. I reminded him that I had asked for a quiet room and suggested he give me another one. He quickly retorted that the hotel ( which appeared empty of guests ) was full and there was no question of having another room. He tried to compromise by promising that the piano practice would end in half an hour. Here he was giving me a clue, that he knew more about the mysterious piano than he was letting on. I suspected the apartment was occupied by his family, one of whom was learning to play the piano and had been told to practice vigilantly. I reluctantly agreed to listen to the piano for one half of an hour, returned to my room and hid under the bed clothes.

Within a few minutes there was a knock on the door. I dressed again and opened it and there was the receptionist who said that the piano would now stop in a few minutes. He had arranged this reluctantly though for he reminded me that, ‘this is Spain’, meaning that noise of all kinds is acceptable, even in hotels. I said that I knew it was Spain but that this was also a hotel where people were invited to sleep and I had never been in a hotel before where there were apartments with music practise taking place.

Sure enough, the piano quickly stopped and I was able to finally, sleep.

I have to wonder whether I am being unreasonable and have a false expectation of hotels? Am I in a minority of guests whose main priority is not to be woken to the refuse lorry collecting at two in the morning and the recycling lorry collecting at five in the morning?

Obviously I am not alone

If I am, then I am willing to pay for the privilege of uninterrupted sleep at a five bed hotel. Let the party goers and sports event fans, boogey on in the hotel down the road – if for them a hotel is a mini version of Las Vegas.

A quiet night in the Venetian

I would give those hotels one bed in my scoring system, indeed, if it provided no beds at all, I expect there are many who would not care. Think how much more money hotels could make if guests were never allowed to sleep!

Jesus Loves Computers

18/01/202018/01/2020 / Matters Blog - Things that Matter to Me / Leave a comment

The following events are entirely fictional and set in modern Palestine where an enlightned Spanish chap called Jesus, is giving a group of his friends and followers a piece of his wisdom.

An early computer

And it came to pass that some of the disciples were mystified by the whole thing around ‘computers’, for much of Palestine was then buzzing about them and their unique qualities.

So they said unto Jesus, one Sunday afternoon when it had begun to rain and all around had gathered together in someone’s house,

‘What about computers?’

And Jesus replied, ‘Oh, ye of little understanding. Don’t you know nothing?’

And those who heard this looked at each other in a quizzical fashion and were confused by the double negative in the question which believe me makes no sense in Spanish any more than in English.

John, who considered himself a bit of a computer expert, stood up amongst them and cried, ‘please tell these ignoramuses Lord, so that I no longer have to ‘fix things up’ for them for I am weary of their attention seeking and quizzing.

And Jesus was compassionate towards John for he was also ‘up to here’ with quizzingness but knew it was just his Father having a bit of a joke so he asked those who were then gathered together and enjoying a round of hot drinks,

‘What is it you want to know?’

And one man who was a shepherd from the hills all his life asked, ‘tell us how a computer has a RAM, for I have a Ram and am confused.’

Jesus thought for a minute or so, making a pattern of little dots in the sand with his finger and then looked up. ‘The RAM is like unto a Juggler who stands in the market place. He has in his pockets sixteen sponge balls whose colour is red.’

Jesus eyed his audience and saw that so far they understood.

‘And he starteth juggling with three balls and the crowd is amazed that he can keep them all in the air at once, until he picketh another from his pocket and continues with four balls.’

‘And so the juggler keeps his concentration sufficient that soon he has extracted all sixteen balls from his pocket and is keeping them in the air by throwing them higher and moving as fast as he possibly can.’

The disciples and a few other goat herders who had heard about the hot drinks and had slipped in to get dry and warmed up, looked at each other and saw that no one knew what Jesus was on about. So one of them stood up and said,

‘Eh?’

Then John, seeing the vexation on the face of his Lord, and the gnashing of his teeth and clenched fists and all the signs of high blood pressure, did turn to this ignoramus and said, ‘Look, it’s simple, the computer has to make many tasks work at the same time and that is the Random Access Memory which is limited but can be expanded simply with a larger RAM card in the RAM card slot or an additional card if there is space, making the users computing experience faster and smoother.’

Looking into the heart of a computer does not need to be confusing;

Jesus looked around at the glazed-over eyes in the room and implored John to not confuse the situation further, and John sat down mumbling to himself and grabbing his hot chocolate that someone else had been holding for him.

The Lord continued, ‘And if you are in pain to understand about other parts of a computer fear not, for all shall be explained unto you.’

‘What about CPU’s then?’ came a voice from the back of the room and prompting a sustained mumbling of approval at the question and some nodding of heads.

‘Mine’s 1.6 Ghz dual core. What does that mean?’

Jesus looked like he knew the answer to this question and rubbed his hands together.

‘The CPU is like unto the heart and lungs of a camel.’

‘Mine isn’t!’ came a shout of surprise from amongst them. ‘A camel? Bloody ridiculous. Why’s he on about juggling and cam…’

‘Look, it’s a parable you numbskull. Jesus is explaining using an extended metaphor to help dispel the mystery of something which defies understanding in ordinary language.’ John was always quick to defend Jesus’s teaching technique.

‘Creep!’ came a muffled response but it was not heard by all, for they were anxious to learn more. Jesus continued, ‘And if a camel has a small heart and lungs, when it is asked to carry a heavy load at a high speed, it creates much heat. This heat might be dispelled by a camel rider holding a large palm leaf acting as a fan or perhaps throwing a bucket of water over the camel…’

‘Where do you get a bucket of water in a desert!’ heckled a disbeliever.

Quoth John instantly ‘It’s a parable donkey brain!’

Jesus lifted his arms up and continued, ‘and if that camel had a larger heart and lungs, like if it had a better central processing unit, it would be able to run up sand dunes at great speed with heavy loads and be only slightly overheated and out of breath at the top of the dune.’

The next course of sweet things made of pastries and dates was passed around and Jesus sat down for a while, for he was in need of a sugar boost.

At length, when the final course of wine and cheese had been enjoyed and all assembled were nicely relaxed and leaning against, on, or in improvised pieces of furniture and things scattered in the room like storage urns and camel saddles…someone asked, ‘What about Operating Systems?’

Jesus stood up and looked down amongst them as if the room was circling around his head, although it was not.

‘I’ll tell you about Operating Systems, for they are like unto a system of rules and beliefs that form a religion. These rules are given by Divine command, from someone like William Pearly Gates who started in a mates garage and now owns most of Palestine. He looked out of the window and saw a Window and called his inspiration, Windows 4AD. And he formed a series of commands and programmes that were readily understood by the computer and made an interface between the Father, William and ordinary people like yourselves gathered in this room.’

‘What, all of us?’ came a gasp.

‘Yes, even the most humble amongst you, who has had little education past nursery level, and perhaps is unable to even read or write due to some incurable incapacity like dyslexia or ADHD leading to anxiety and behavioural problems…Ye are those who will be first to understand exactly how to open documents and save them properly.’

And all in the room were moved because they thought computing was for the educated and rich who sat around in Palaces and hobnobbed with the senior military ranks in their secluded villas with pools and fine Sea of Galilee views that turned out to be rather too distant to truly impressed but looked good in the sales literature and sold houses quickly…they realised that such people would be the last to understand how to use computers because their heads were all in a muddle…whereas, the most stupid members of society like themselves were in line to be first to enter the Pearly Bill Gates because of their humility and frankly, lack of fear, and understanding of how computers could change their lives from simple peasants to men and women of wisdom and high ethical standing.

And the angels stood around in the room and applauded those now gathered there asleep, for their fear and anxieties about computers had been destroyed once and for all eternity.

Not Dead Yet

07/09/2019 / Matters Blog - Things that Matter to Me / Leave a comment

I have just come from my psychologist after a long and painful session. I was advised uninterrupted rest, in sympathy with my recent trauma.

It all started when I read the latest advice for 19 to 64 year olds. According to the BBC News website ‘strengthen muscles as well as heart to stay fit and healthy say top doctors’ – I am considered to have the same body as a 19 year old despite the fact that I am 64. This body requires the same amount of physical exercise as when I was young and they don’t hold their punches with their recommended exercise regime.

It starts badly. Each day I must be ‘physically active’. This means, presumably, that my normal day of lying in bed holding my breath, is not a good idea. Wow! I wish I had heard this advice before. OK. That was sarcastic I am sorry but really? Do we have to be told to move? Yes, we do so, I have spent the last month not only ‘active’ but taking exercise. Number one on the list of advice is to do ‘heavy gardening’ ‘carry heavy shopping’ or ‘resistance exercise’ at least twice a weak.

I am not sure what heavy gardening is. It sounds a bit like heavy petting and I don’t like the implications of that, so I skipped both.

Heavy shopping sounded appealing. Instead of my normal half trolley full, I filled up with chocolate, cakes, bread, beer – heavy items – so that walking to the car was going to provide my twice weekly exercise and maintain my nineteen year old body. I don’t think I have eaten so much chocolate and drunk so much beer in my life but I consoled myself with the fact that I was doing my muscles and heart a great deal of good.

As for joining the Resistance? Well I have never been much of a political activist preferring to totter to a polling booth and put an x (or is it a tick?) next to the party candidate who stands no hope of winning. It’s what being a Liberal is all about. But as for joining the Resistance? I can see that the average pimply nineteen year old who has had little chance to sort out what makes life tick or even tock – will find this appealing. Me, I have never felt I could wear a black beret with quite the tilt that Che Guervera managed. As for planting bombs on railway tracks. Well as someone who regularly writes to his MP complaining about my daily rail commute being delayed for unforeseen reasons – such complaints would become somewhat hypocritical. I couldn’t feel good, even if it was good for my muscles and heart.

Then comes the double whammy in the advice. Not only do you have to be ‘physically active’ – so breathing – but the advice hammers home a list of unrelenting and unnatural amount of activity. On offer is ‘brisk walking or cycling’. Now I have never liked walking ever since I first tried it as a baby – in fact my first few attempts were down right embarrassing. I guess I have the hang of it now but really it’s not much to write home about and raises little admiration and praise from family and friends. The idea of brisk cycling is more appealing.

I set out yesterday on a jaunt and gave myself twenty minutes to achieve it. After twenty minutes getting the electric bike ready, due to flat tires, rust etc…I realised that if I was going to be sincere to my task like a true Resistance fighter, then I should use my ordinary push bike. That took another twenty minutes to prepare but finally I was ready. I balanced the recycling bag on the back and headed uphill towards the recycling bins. I mused for the first hundred metres about the irony of cycling with recycling and thought it would make a good joke sometime – then I spied Jim filling up my neighbour’s swimming pool and I stopped for a chat. I explained what I was doing and how the last hundred metres had been a challenge. He suggested I sit down and he had some cold beers in the car – all of which I accepted.

Well, the next hour passed very amicably and I thanked him but said I needed to do some more muscle and heart exercise. I explained how I had to do 150 minutes every week, and he asked how much this was each day. A simple question and maybe the beers hadn’t done much for my brain but I had to pause and then ask if he had a pencil and paper.

If it was 140 minutes a week then 20 minutes a day. Easy.

But these ‘top doctors’ had thrown in another ten minutes, seven times a week. Eventually Jim found a calculator on his phone and read out in full – 21.4285714286 minutes.

‘How many seconds is that?’ I asked. Well, even with a calculator he couldn’t work it out. We settled for twenty one and a half seconds each day so as not to offend the top doctors.

Jim asked what the hell was a top doctor and I said I had never met one. They must be like ordinary doctors but much much cleverer…which in human terms these days is probably not very clever. Anyone who thinks 21 and a half minutes is easy to calculate is either dim on theory and dim in practice or unbelievably clever on theory and dim in practice.

I reached the recycling bins about an hour later since most of my cycle ride became a slow walk pushing the dam thing up hill. Coming back was a breeze though I resolved to spend more time going downhill than up in the future – the kind of wheeze a nineteen year old would think of.

I ignored the next top doctor suggestion on health grounds, which was 75 minutes of running each week. Surely the invention of the motor car means that no person has to be humiliated by running along the road in their mid sixties. I can see switch boards being blocked with calls for emergency services to attend this wreck of muscles and bones, every ten minutes.

Lastly, the top doctors pulled out all the stops with their crowning piece of advice. ‘Minimise time spent being sedentary’. I was pleased to read this one as it is clearly the same as ‘be active’ but in reverse. Why, if you were so brainy to be a top doctor, would you advise; ‘don’t lie down too much’ and ‘stand up a lot’? It’s the same advice twice!

Never mind, it just means an easy tick in the achievements box.

What the top doctors did not reckon on was the massive guilt complex that developes in those challenged mentally and physically by this ‘do or die’ advice. How could an old wreck like me ever match the muscular and heart exertions of my nineteen year old doppelgänger? The guy doesn’t exist any longer and if you want the older version, he will be lounging in the hammock on the terrace at the back of the house for medical reasons.

And the medical advice I have been given by my psychiatrist, called Jim, is to wait until my next birthday before attempting physical activity. The reasoning is that on that day the exercising regime becomes considerably more lenient. All it says is that ‘some physical activity is better than none’.

Yes, over 65 years old the top doctors have a suggestion that frankly, a hospital porter on their first day at work could come up with. But I am not complaining.

Another activity befitting the muscular physique of a 65 year old is ‘bowls’ Fortunately I can ‘bowls’ is doable as I have a fine collection of ceramic bowls in my house; I presumably only need to look at them.

Then they advise ‘Tai Chi’ and I have always been keen on these oriental things. Whether there is room in the garden for a Tea House I am not sure. I might have to move the shed in which I store the sun loungers but never mind. The tea ceremony is very calming and promotes mental as well a physical inactivity. Very Zen.

But I am not so sure with the last piece of advice I am going to have to follow. ‘Break up long periods of being sedentary with light activity when possible, at least with standing.’

The longest period of inactivity is a close call between watching Net Fix and sleeping, but I think sleeping tips the scales the most. How I can be expected to either sleep standing up or wake up at intervals in order to stand up and lie down again, I am not certain.

What I do know is that it is all good practice for the grave, in which there is no requirement to stand up.

Bring it on.

Time Traveller

29/07/201929/07/2019 / Matters Blog - Things that Matter to Me / Leave a comment

Good evening and welcome to another edition of Time Traveller. In this programme we ask a well known personality which seven items they would take into the future as their personal memories of today.

Our guest in the studio with me is Mrs. Teresa May, the recently deposed Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.

Welcome Teresa May and let us start by introducing your first item which is a film you have liked of admired and wish to take into a time in the future.

Well Robin, firstly thank you for inviting me onto your programme and giving me a chance to talk on one of my favourite subjects, myself. My most memorable film would have to be For Whom the Bell Tolls. Politics, as someone once said, is ‘war by another means’ or was that me? Anyway, I recently have discovered just that. I knew that I had a slim chance of achieving anything let alone the Brexit debate. Now with a career worst legacy of a failing health service, failing prison service, failing criminal justice system (in particular the probation service), failing police service, failing education system, failing defence services (those aircraft carriers oh dear), failing transport infrastructure, failing social cohesion, failing high streets and housing provision, failing agriculture and fisheries, failing trade deals, failing immigration policy, failing universal credit benefits system – I feel that there I have done enough for the country that I love (tear). What a pity that even the Houses of Parliament are leaking and in a bad state of repair in particular the Big Ben bell that has not tolled for quite a long time.

Well, what an extraordinary legacy and one which few people could be less proud, so let’s move on. Give us you favourite piece of music that you would take with you into the future.

Ah! Yes well this would have to be one of the places I would like to visit which is the Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd. I believe the Chinese have a little something walking around there already and I would like to make similar ever decreasing circles in the dust bowls and craters so abundant there and not be asked awkward questions by members of the opposition and press.

A fine choice and somewhere we hope you will be able to go and stay perhaps, in the future? Your next choice is to consider a favourite meal that you would want to enjoy on the moon.

Ah! Well that’s a easy one because I expect it will not be so abundant in the future as it is now – good old British ‘fish and chips’. Because with the Fisheries and Farming policies of my previous government will mean that there are hardly any fish left in the seas in the future and no casual labourers to pick the potatoes rotting in the fields.

Extraordinary to contemplate no fish and chips but yes, perhaps you have sown those seeds not least when you were a disastrous Home Secretary who did little to reduce uncontrolled immigration (nervous laugh). So let us move on to your next choice which is a painting you would like to take into the future.

Can I have The Last Supper by Leonardo de Cohen, even though it is painted on a wall?

The whole wall is yours.

Yes, because whilst I don’t think I am Jesus (well not yet anyway) I have to consider my last appearance in the House of Commons and how nice the other disciples, I mean politicians, were to me. There was so much praise for my character and policies, saying how clever I was and how much I had done for the country I love selflessly – I know it was all untrue but what a lovely fantasy.

OK, a good choice and one which will remind you of your prophet like status at least in your own household if you include your cat. So next we have a poem for you to choose and take into the future. What would that be Teresa May?

Well Robin, I am not really one to read poetry mainly because I can’t understand most of it written with so many words missed out. But I think the words of the hymn Jerusalem by William Blake would remind me of the ‘green and pleasant land’ that England once was before my inept environment policies to reduce climate change turned England into a burnt and unpleasant desert.

What about the other countries of the UK?

I can’t see that they will still want to be part of a Brexited desert by then and will have gone off in their own directions to maintain the models of prosperity that I strived for and never achieved.

Great, so nearing the end of the programme we just have two more requests for you. What novel would you bring with you into the future?

That’s a simple one. I’d like the Secret Life of Walter Mitty because I can identify so closely with the main character whose name I forget? Is it Teresa…

No it’s Walter Mitty.

Yes, so there is this fantacist who dreams of all sorts of accomplishments way above his or her real life potential and abilities and creates all sorts of confusion amongst the people around him or her. That so reminds me of the me I love!

Marvellous, how interesting and finally then we have to ask what play you would take into the future.

That would be The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde. I have always found in my career as a politician, that it matters little what you say and more how you say it. If you sound unsure of yourself it will show, even if it’s the most obvious and benign policy you are suggesting people will want to shrug it and you off. However if you come up with the most bizarre and unpractical ideas but are completely and utterly earnest in your pursuit of them, well, doors open, as they did for me.

Astonishing. An one luxury item you would like to bring with you into the future you describe so well?

Can I have a Tesla submarine. I do believe that in the future we will no longer be living on the land on account of global desertification and will have moved into the seas to earnestly carry on the destruction of the planet to the very end. Therefore I think a nice shiny Tesla submarine powered by the phosphorescence of tiny planktony things will be the perfect place to contemplate the last days of my life.

A little domed perspex window into a world of dying coral and empty abysses?

Oh, yes, what a wonderful legacy.

Teresa May, thank you for causing all the worlds problems and being on this edition of Time Traveller.

English-ish

11/07/2019 / Matters Blog - Things that Matter to Me / Leave a comment

Now I want you all to come and sit in the story time circle children. Come along now! Timothy! Don’t scrape your chair. No, it is not a Roman chariot crossing the finishing line made of the bodies of slaves, it’s just a chair. That’s right. Thank you boys and girls. Sitting up straaaaaight! Good.

Now this morning we are going to learn some new words. This is part of our Easy English Learning Year 2 book exercise 11. No Jonathan you don’t need your book. Well because it’s a simple lesson so you don’t need your book.

So listening…my arm is up Peter! What can we say to make the sentence ‘the cat sat on the mat’ sound better?

No Simon, dead cats do not sit on mats. Well they sort of fall over – but that is not the point – it is not nice to think of dead cats. No please don’t cry Susan. There isn’t really a dead cat, nor a real cat at all. It’s just something we are trying to talk about and the boys are being silly.

So now, how can we make ‘the cat sat on the mat’ a more interesting thing to talk about?

No ideas? Well has anyone heard their Mummy or Daddy or Carer say ‘to be honest’ before a sentence? You all have! Except you Carol…because your Daddy is in prison. Well that doesn’t mean he is not honest some of the time. Susan , stop crying now and go and help Carol stop crying. And whilst that is happening look this way; and I want someone to try out my suggestion. Wendy…how about you.

Wendy ‘To be honest, the cat sat on the mat.’

That’s really good, thank you Wendy. Do you see class how by saying ‘to be honest’ the meaning of the short sentence sounds more likely to be true than not true? Yes Giles, it might not be true at all. You think there might not be a cat…or a mat. But I am saying in this case there is. All RIGHT! Sorry I didn’t mean to shout. Let me have a hanky please Carol. Thank you.

So, now we can say, ‘to be honest’ in front of any sentence can’t we children? Just like our Mummies and Daddies and Carers do, and don’t they sound clever people when they do? Yes, of course they do and they sound really, well, honest.

Well sometimes grown ups are not honest so by saying ‘to be honest’ makes people believe what they say, John. No, not just amongst Gangsters. Nor criminals like Carol’s Dad. Nor corrupt officials or members of parliament. Look I don’t know why I am saying this. To be honest I want you all to listen carefully. See what I just did to get your attention? Yes, clever wasn’t it?

So, now our simple sentence has become longer.

To be honest the cat sat on the mat.

Who is clever enough to think how we can make this sentence more true sounding? You can Penny? Have a go then and all listening to Penny, class please.

Penny: To be honest, the cat actually sat on the mat.

Well done Penny. How did you know that? Your Mum actually says actually a lot actually? That’s clever of her.

And can you see what Penny has taught us children? Timothy don’t lean back on your chair like that. It’s dangerous. Yes, it is actually dangerous, actually.

So, what other word can we add to our simple sentence?

Your hand was up first Annabel…yes you may be excused but be quick! Anyone else? Simon?

Simon ‘So, to be honest, the cat actually sat on the mat,

actually.’

Good Simon. I don’t think we need two actual actually’s in the same sentence actually…what is it Timothy, put your hand down. Oh, did I just say three actually’s, twice? Well, that’s the good thing about our English lesson today. No one is going to notice how many times you say ‘So’ and ‘to be honest’ and ‘actually’ because everyone is saying these words so many times that it’s difficult to notice them any more.

Yes, even an English teacher like me doesn’t notice them Simon, because they are such useful words and expressions. Grown ups think it is clever to use them so I think you children should learn to say them as well.

No it is not ‘inane padding’ Peter. Who did you hear say that? Your Dad is an English teacher…yes I already know that actually…because he taught me when I was in big school. OK, call it secondary education if you want Peter. I am not going to argue. Well, since you ask, I am trying to make my speech simple for those who are not as fast as you at English, that’s why. Now can we review what we have learnt in our work books? Go back to your tables and open your English books to a new page. Slowly Stephen, it’s not a race! And as you are getting ready I am writing our new improved sentence on the board and I want you to copy it.

Peter. You are not writing? Where is your pen and book? It’s not drivel I assure you. Well there is nothing wrong with ‘the cat sat on the mat’ it’s just that in 2019 it’s a bit old fashioned. It’s much more normal to say, to be honest at the beginning. Even when you are an honest person, yes, even then because the other person might not know how honest you might be. No it’s not an absolute proof of honesty. No, I don’t think I would buy a used car from someone saying this, they could be dishonest just like any other person. It’s just an expression. Yes, possibly an expression that is not true but when it comes to cats and mats it normally, in fact most likely, is true. And that is also why we say ‘actually’ as well, yes. We actually do. We really really really do say actually.

When you do actually get to University to study English, you can write to me in my retirement home and tell me how wrong I was today. Until then Peter I want you to write the word actually on the last page of your exercise book one hundred times.

And the rest of you can go now. No running!

Peter, start actually writing actually.

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Original thoughts on a variety of subjects that matter to me

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