Apologia Paucitas

I guess it’s a combination of omnipresent distractions and feeling rather drained that has led to the paucity of blog postings of late. Sometimes, it seems as if the PC suffers almost as much from “brain fog” as do I. When the computer has its silly little glitches, I get so hung up on resolving them that fiddling about with programmes etc. takes the place of purposeful use of the machine. I love those moments when, after hours of frustration, one can simply rest back on one’s laurels having thwarted its best laid obstacles; oh the glow of self-satisfaction!

Mind you, there are always more little tasks to perform, around the house and in the garden, than stamina reserves permit the serious contemplation of. Or to put it another way, the contemplation is as great an endeavour as I can manage.

Recent weeks have seen an increase in my already sizeable bed-rest requirement; although I’m usually managing to remove myself from the duvet realm whilst it’s still morning, my hour of retirement has advanced somewhat. It’s strange how exhaustion suddenly overwhelm one; by the time I get up the stairs, I no longer have the stamina or patience to brush my teeth. The effort of getting undressed, without confusing myself, is challenging enough. The more exhausted I become, the more fitful the sleep pattern but, this doesn’t preclude an abundance of vivid naturalistic dreams at some point when a more general somnolence yields to the arms of Morpheus.

No matter how prolonged the bouts of sleep, it almost invariably proves unrefreshing; mid-morning usually finds a distinctly under par Malcolm, headachy, catarrhal, painful sinuses, ears, and tender glands. Apart from that, the sundry other muscular and joint pains proffer only a minor degree of discomfort at present, so maybe some things are picking up.

Sorry, I don’t want this to sound like I’m complaining; I really do enjoy my more alert moments and, thank God for the gift of family, friends, food in the belly and the privilege of observing all the piscine and avian activity in the garden. Just having the time to sit and stare is a rich gift in and of itself.

I trust that somewhere, in that jumble of words, you will discover the reason / excuse for the paucity of postings.

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This post also appears on 'Mals Murmurings'

SFO wrong to drop BAE inquiry, court rules | World news | guardian.co.uk

Surprise, surprise ... it's wrong to yield to blackmail ; admittedly the bribes that were to be investigated are probably par for the course.

"In a stunning victory for the activist groups that launched the legal challenge, the two judges said Tony Blair's government and the SFO caved in too readily to threats by Saudi Arabia over intelligence sharing and trade."

SFO wrong to drop BAE inquiry, court rules | World news | guardian.co.uk

Looking Forward

Blossom Time - Harrogate Stray

Now that's what I'm looking forward to! Don't get me wrong though, I generally love all phases of all seasons but, as our temperatures have dropped somewhat the last few days, decided on a sneak preview of changes to come. (Strange that I should go back to an image from last spring to do so).

We enjoyed a little walk this afternoon, appreciating the new shoots and buds as they gently unfurl.

Meanwhile, a little question. When does an apple tree become a thorn tree?

Answer: When it's branches are wrapped and bedecked with thorn branches, in an attempt to prevent a couple of neighbourhood cats climbing up to the blue-tit's nesting box.

No matter what cat deterrent device we utilize in the garden, our endeavours always seem to come to naught!

Fishy Business on 'Mal's Murmurings'

An update on our calico fantail, CALLIE'S PROGRESS, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

Houdini's Release

Houdini, the uninvited furry house guest, on his fifth trick failed to escape. This morning, very early by my standards, I ventured up to the wild area of the garden, live-capture mousetrap in hand and, released the charmed little critter into the undergrowth.

The Houdini title was well-earned, although I suspect his first visit (to) and escape (from) the trap owed more to the friction of the floor covering than the meeces innate skill. On that occasion the door failed to click into place and, young Houdini beat a hasty retreat. On another occasion he managed to tip the trap onto its side, thus enabling easy access to the lure bait, of which not a single trace was left.

Two further times, the little ‘un visited the trap and, managed to evade capture. Last night, shortly after we’d retired to bed, I decided to create my own live capture trap. No use contemplating sleep when my mind’s buzzing so, having donned dressing gowns, ma belle et moi, returned downstairs to bring this idea to fruition. Of course, it was far from easy to work out the best positional strategy for the new creation. Our discourse on this matter proved quite hilarious, even the proposition that little H could climb up onto the arm chair and dive down, as if from the high board, to sample the delights nestling far beneath the one way opening seemed almost plausible.

My beloved muttered, within presumed earshot of the little critter, “don’t you realize we’re trying to save you. We don’t really want to bring in capital punishment!” We duly positioned the new device, in close proximity to the original live trap, and bade our unwelcome house guest “good night”.

Come early morning, young Houdini, obviously regretting the discomfort he was causing his human friends, surrendered him self to the lure of the original live-capture trap.

Having released H into the wild, we decided to err on the side of caution and, once again baited a couple of the humane traps, just in case our guest had invited more of his friends to enjoy our domestic domain.

Creature Discomforts

Reptiles, I love them, such a rare kind of beauty. That feel of silken sunshine as you handle a snake, a skink etc., straight from the warmth of its vivarium; the sensation’s just so difficult to describe. Much as I love handling reptiles, I’m not sure that I’d have the necessary skill and dedication to look after them. One side of me hates the idea that they should be captive* but, they’re so wonderful to observe. Feeding’s another problem, especially as they like live bait, ranging from crickets to mice, to day old chicks, dependent on size and species, is a bit of a turn off but, the only vegetarian lizards I’ve considered seem to have been the larger ones. Strange that I should want the reptile to be vegetarian when I’m not!

Having said that, were a reptile suddenly to slink across my living room floor, I suspect my immediate reaction would be to flee the scene. And as for the little meeces that I’d have to consider feeding them with, fresh or frozen, I love those little creatures (in their right place of course). When a mouse suddenly scurries across the room, that’s a different matter; my response proves irrational, feeling slightly queasy. Last evening, in the dining room, both my beloved and I witnessed a scampering little furry creature heading away from a packet of wild bird feed. On close inspection, I find that the little critter has developed a taste for the suet balls.

Both Helen and I kept glancing around the room as we ate our meal, looking for further sightings of this tiny foe; all the time hoping, of course, for non-sightings! A trip to the hardware shop was called for to acquire a couple of live capture mouse traps which I duly baited and, by morning one of the traps had tilted but, the carpet prevented the trap door from slamming properly shut. The live capture traps have now been placed on smoother surfaces and, I’m just hoping we have a swift capture, otherwise I might have to resort to the more conventional type of trap (which I understand has a higher success rate – but do I really want the mouse executing?). We try to keep the wild end of the garden friendly for all types of creatures; I wish they’d respect their boundaries, and ours too!

*Of course, come to think of it, there’s an apparent contradiction between my concerns about whether reptiles should be held captive, whilst no such concern crosses my mind about keeping fish in both pond and aquarium.

An earlier posting for today, Callie's Return, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

A Matter of Chance?

No matter how much we may think we freely choose the time and place for our actions, there are times when a specific action (in terms of time and place) quite simply had to be. Yesterday was a case in point.

Regular readers of my blog will realize that so often my decision to go out, perform a certain activity etc, is determined as much by the vagaries of my resource of physical and emotional stamina as it is by my will to do so. Yesterday afternoon I had determined on a certain goal but, a choice had to be made as to whether ma belle and I would walk there (a venue slightly further than my usual brief brisk walking range) or go in the car.

The day being beautifully sunny, and noticing the pond had survived the winter with an absolute surplus of oxygenating weed, I was almost distracted sufficiently to abandon the aforementioned goal, tidying up the pond instead. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, I decided it would be better to walk to the pre-planned venue rather than do any work on the pond. It was definitely decided that we should walk, rather than use automotive power for this little errand.

A couple of hundred yards down the road, a voice called out “Malcolm, Malcolm”. We turned around and, at first I didn’t recognize the lady who was calling out. As we chatted, she told us of her worries and anxieties and that she’d lost two stone in weight through the stress of recent events. She seemed close to tears as we chatted and asked if we would like to call around to her place for a coffee and a chat.

Having performed our little errand, we called in on our way back home and sat and chatted for a couple of hours. Although it was quite an exhausting experience, well past my usual socializing limit, it was also most rewarding. By the time we left it was really great to see her smiling. The problems she’s been facing seem some way from resolution but, at least the problems have been shared.

The timing and direction of our little venture seems almost to have been pre-ordained. Yes, I had to make the choice to venture out but, I had no idea that the exercise would prove so fruitful.

Gently Does It

The penny has finally dropped. For the past week to ten days, a physical shattered-ness has forced me to retire au lit at a marginally earlier hour, although my nocturnal bed rest requirement has remained somewhere around 11 hours. Last night, I performed the task of resetting the clocks for the advent of BST (British Summer Time); I now have a strong suspicion that my biological clock was gently adapting me to this man-made leap!

Whatever the clock may say, I can guarantee that my body will continue to forcefully state when it requires rest. For far too long I’d ignored these promptings, and look where that got me!

On the general health front, things have been on a pretty even keel and, apart from taking my regular medications, I’ve been resorting far less to pain-killers. To tell the truth, the analgesics don’t seem to cope too well with the nauseatingly intermittent nature of the pains and discomforts my flesh is heir too. On the other hand, I’ve overcome the quirky guilt feelings that used to overwhelm me on those occasions when I’ve found it absolutely necessary to take them; I’ve also discovered that they can sometimes be used to make an essential pre-emptive strike against intense discomfort.

The not infrequent involuntary leg crumbling spasms, nine times out of ten, I’m able to find amusing … “look what the little bugger’s doing now!” The nagging bruising aches emanating from the armpit seem to have re-emerged with a vengeance, a couple of weeks after my last acupuncture treatment, ending in a sharp numbness of the inner upper arm and around the elbow joint.

Most importantly, I’m enjoying life as long as I accept my limitations. A couple of years back, I never even dreamt that I could feel this good again. Now I’ve just got to work on the ….. what’s the word I’m looking for …… concentration!

I rejoice and am glad in this day the Lord has made.

Thinking Aloud : Substitutionary Embryonics

"Using one as a means to an end is never justifiable, it is morally wrong!" In this instance the person speaking on the radio was referring to the human embryo,  apparently ruling out the possibility of any stem-cell research.

If using an embryo as a 'means to an end' is so abhorrent, how much more horrific is the story of a Father who allows his Son to be born, and grow to maturity, in the knowledge that the Father will send Him to a grisly death, or (at the least) the Son  lives life in the knowledge that he must die this same awful death. Such is the substitutionary theory of the atonement, a good man has to be punished (in the case of penal substitution) or else willingly dies (substitutionary atonement)  for the redemption of all. What sort of immoral ogre is the Father in the penal substitution theory?

Of course one could refer to the Resurrection as cancelling out this evil act but, by the same token one should acknowledge that a person healed from a cruel degenerative disease, as a result of embryo research, would provide a resurrection moment in response to the 'sacrifice' of the embryo!

Easter Day

By malcolme at 2008-03-22