Soup of the Day

Very little, or no light, at all, fell into my living room this morning, on what has turned out to be another very wet and very windy morning – as I sit by my window the clusters of bright red berries on the holy tree, bounce unrehearsed on the end of long slender arms, heralding in the start of another long winter day

We know not whether it be right, or whether it be wrong,

We only know when we grow old, winter days are long,

When every day is like a year,

A year whose day is long.  

The rain let up for a short time allowing me to venture out to the supermarket for milk and whilst there I scanned the shelves for something nice for my dinner. Decisions, decisions,

I chose a carrot. Once home I put on the soup pot – lentils, grated carrot, grated turnip, and it smells delicious, I wish it was effter.

Received my first Christmas card today (from a friendly neighbour) too many friendly neighbours now – still, at least I do not have the expense of (very expensive) stamps. I normally make my own cards (the personal touch) and drawings, and printing out sometimes with a little verse or a little personal Christmas greeting. But the inkjet cartages are depleted on my printer and at over £50.00 for a new set – it would be cheaper to buy a new printer (complete with new cartages) which would make homemade cards very expensive indeed.

I did wrap my first Christmas present today; reducing by 50% my Christmas present wrapping task (economy of old age) we old wrinkles don’t give presents to one another, except for the Christmas (present) message of love for our fellow man (and woman) across the earth.

And we are a long way from that, on Aljazeera this morning I watch firemen tackle a fire in an apartment block in the north of Gaza Strip (Jabalea refugee camp, and open prison) the people inside all died, from smoke inhalation or the fire itself. The firemen who had attended the fire had no breathing equipment to enter a smoke-filled building – we will never know how many may have been saved if they had.

Madagascar (I believe it is the third biggest island in the world if you discount Australia, being a continent) is a republic situated in the Indian Ocean with a population of some 33,417,000 souls. The average age for a male inhabitant is 68.5 years and for women only 68 years, (less than the biblical three scores and ten) – this is drastically being reduced year on year as the effects of global warming bite. A people that have had little influence on the effects of global warming have now experienced four years of drought, fields barren, with what crops remain berried in the windblown sands. Women and children walk for hours to the river each and every day to carry discoloured water home for washing cooking and drinking. Years ago the government built a pumping station in the village – when it was finished the workmen left – no pipe work was ever laid over the five miles, between the river and the pumping station.

America is firing a $70,000 missile from a $28,000,000 drone flying at a cost of $3,624 per hour to kill people in the Middle East living on less than $1 per day.

We live in a country where if you want to go bomb somebody, there’s remarkably little discussion about how much it might cost. But then you have a discussion about whether or not we can assist people who are suffering, and then suddenly we become very cost-conscious.

Suffer the children to come unto me,

The man who said that died on a tree,

Yet as we rejoice at this time of his birth,

His children still suffering all over the earth.

Charles came to the door yesterday – depressed, lost and in need of some company. I was making dinner so popped in an extra potato – so it was mince and tatties all around. I find it very difficult to have a conversation with Charles (slurred speech) so on went a DVD of Shirley Valentine; it was nearly 11 pm by the time he departed – Charles needs to get a life.

Friday I normally go over to Dundee and pop into Wetherspoons for a pint – Worthington’s is so smooth a real treat. Failing that it is the Criterion in St Andrews and a pint of John Smiths (twice the price) this is the cost of living in St Andrews – swings and roundabouts.

What to do with the remainder of my day, finish ‘the teeth of the tiger’ (by Tom Clancy) look for something to do in my workshop, get out my sketchbook and doodle? Decisions, decisions

The soup is now ready and boy is it yummy, what could be more heartwarming on such a dreich and miserable day.  

Stay safe.  


One thought on “Soup of the Day

  1. Your honesty about the state of the world certainly makes me think twice about all the trappings of Christmas. I think the older I get the less interested I am in celebrating Christmas when so much is wrong in our world.


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