An emergency and an adventure

 

Emergency surgery to repair a blocked bowel and corresponding inguinal hernia followed by six days on a ward with a diet of mushy vegetables with dubious sauces, always followed by a somewhat tasty pudding as a reward for downing the first round. When I was a boy, so it was. My mum made lovely puddings but traditional English dinners with meat and salt,  butter, suet or dripping were to be removed, so my mum kept up with the times and widely advertised medical opinion, thinking she was doing good.

The surgery was only an emergency due to my neglect., but since one cannot live with a blocked bowel, it was classified as emergency. So I was operated on in the evening and in the hospital ward before midnight (guessing, because I was asleep). I awoke from the most comfortable feeling, Warm and totally relaxed. It lasted as long as the morphine did, which was long enough. They then gave me a morphine drip with a button for self-dosing. I might have pressed that a bit more than necessary, until I became concerned.

 

I'm counting my recovery days from the night of my great escape, when I was also a bit terse with a duty nurse or matron.

I had been discharged earlier in the day, but my medication wasn’t ready. I walked down to the entrance for a smoke – quite a distance – and felt exceptionally weak. When I returned to the ward I noticed blood in my urine for the first time, so I freaked out and the nurse asked me if I‘d like to see a doctor and stay another night , to which I gladly agreed. Then Andy came and we went for a smoke. He wheeled me on a chair back up to the ward. He was going to take me home, but I told him there had been a change of plan. I wasn’t looking forward to another interminable night on the ward, but there seemed to be no alternative so I was resigned to it.

But something happened to change all that.

The ward matron and head nurse, neither of whom I greatly cared for, started ordering patients around and speaking of the need for disinfection on the ward. New signs were installed and the ward doors were closed for the first time. My friend Richard was unceremoniously wheeled into a private room and sternly told not to complain. There was to be no discussion whatsoever. Other inmates were pushed around a but. These were orders from on high, and no discussion could be countenanced.

A great bile arose in me coupled with a sense of panic. I have always been aware of the risk of another lockdown, and getting stuck on a hospital ward for the duration seemed absolutely terrifying. Suddenly I had the energy to get dressed, gather my stuff, and get the collaboration of Krzysztof, who was a dynamic sort of man who liked to talk aloud, although he was hard to understand in detail because he seemed to only know Polish, and a few simple expressions in English. The name for going out for a smoke and to hang out in the lobby was “plan B” (he had invented it) so I called out ‘Plan B?’ and we set off together for the very first time. Me to freedom, he just for a smoke, because he had a serious complaint in the gut and also emphysema. The matron called out “Where do you think you’re going?”, and I felt sufficiently bold to remind her that it was none of  her business. That final point is actually untrue. She needed to know whether to check me off the ward or not, but I was in my full Shakespearian flow  and had no time for mere reason, evidence or due consideration.

Down at the entrance it was bleak. It was late, wet and cold. After a while I was alone with some rough looking coves. I considered going back inside to try to call a taxi – I was struggling with that simple task because I had no number and was unable to install the Uber app after three attempts. I ended up getting my card blocked temporarily.

Luckily, I caught sight of an approaching security guard and wondered if the doors were locked at night. I sidled out and, sure enough, the fellow locked up at around 10.30 pm.

A few folks remained outside, some wild, some waiting for a taxi. Finally, I called Andy and he gave me a couple of numbers for more traditional taxi services.

I got a guy with a nice older Mercedes – very quick and comfortable I thought. We chatted about cars and driving. Then, suddenly, I was standing  outside my house. It was very dismal when I went inside, untidy, strange odours, I had left the heating on. I felt like an intruder. But I was finally out of that place of torment and suffering.

I went shopping on day 2. Shon took me up in his car so I picked up some random supposedly healthy options, strictly organic.

We then went to Spoons for a traditional breakfast, which is packed with anti nutrients in the bread, sausage, baked beans and hash browns.

Last night's abdominal pain led to little sleep. But during the morning I received a message, though I clearly failed to understand it or forgot about it:

Strict carnivore is the healing diet par excellence - most primarily in relation to the gut.

It was only on the next day that the significance and provenance of this realisation became apparent to me. 

Immediately, I felt great peace and reassurance flow into me.

I will eat only meat from this day forth. I am at last safe at the feet of the counsellor, my redeemer Christ Jesus, all praise to His Mighty Name.

I will give most of the shopping, except for the whole chicken.

My carnivore diet seemed to be suboptimal a few months back, so I branched out. Like all paths followed unconsciously and feeding the flesh, this one was leading me to destruction and pizza, a preferred destination. It was certainly my poorly baked homemade pizza that finally put me in the theatre. Centre stage. And isn’t it odd that surgical suites are called theatres. Perhaps like the public spectacles supposedly held in London when learned men of science would slice up fresh cadavers for a shew of proud erudition.

The problems I was experiencing at the time were likely caused by the hernia, which  had become increasingly troublesome through the years. Even adding the occasional banana, which I did, can greatly impair the healing action of the fats, not to mention all the stress of an impending house move, but I think it would have anyway required a surgical procedure to fix this problem. Carnivore is good, not magic.

What to do with the BP meds is deserving of investigation. In hospital, I discovered I was something of a celebrity among the medics and nurses due to my exceptionally high pressure values. They always emphasized that I was risking heart attack and stroke at my current levels. They often said "the silent killer" in my ears. It was creepy.

They struggled to lower the values but finally hit on a combination of pills that did the trick. I shall continue to take them.

Hunted

 

I made a video about how difficult it must be to survive, as a fox, in a wood infested with dog walkers at all hours of the day and dusk.
Under these circumstances the foxes simply leave the area.
I too am planning to leave the area in which I live because I have started to feel hunted.

It occurred when I learned that I was to become the last white man in this group of five homes opening out onto a shared forecourt, suitable for parking and for children, who can play far from roads and traffic. When I moved here there were two other white families. But one lady died and was replaced by Muslims. My remaining kinsman will be gone soon, his house purchased by a Muslim. So I will be alone, encircled by the heathen.
This has happened to many of my brethren throughout this great city, where many areas have become Islamic enclaves because they promote their own culture and communities in all their trade, relations, and properties. Birmingham city council provided the funds to build large mosques and continues to finance their endeavours. Any contract work required on any building under their control will be carried out by Muslims. Perhaps for religious reasons also. For this reason, I have become critical of my kinsmen when I see that they have engaged a cut-price Muslim firm for their home improvement plans. I always prefer to deal with my own people with only two main exceptions: I get my tyres from a Sikh man, who I think is a solid fellow. And I get my weed from my West Indian brothers (because).

So I started to feel hunted and surrounded by the Lord's enemies. Indeed, I am mainly surrounded by the Lord's enemies regardless of race, including many of my kinfolk, but as the Children of the Promise we have a pledge: The Promise. The Lord made that promise to our race in ancient times and we must make sure we are worthy of it, whatever it means or implies.

I wonder if my neighbours will feel any sense of shame?
They must look around at this bedraggled city and surely recognise that they have usurped our natural position. They will know the reason when my house goes up for sale. Have they no compassion on my brothers and sisters? They return to their native lands to pay their respects to their elders. Their lands are still their own. Their towns and villages continue to be a haven for their people (I treat tales of war with suspicion).

They were enticed to these lands by our wicked rulers, bent on destroying the emerging Kingdom of Christ and defiling His children. They were offered incentives and benefits of every imaginable hue. But that might prove to be their undoing - it is a poisoned chalice. Their growing Europeanization has persuaded them to adopt the corrupt lifestyles that abound. Eating the poisonous foods and relying on the health service. Many of their people train as doctors, seeking riches and status. They have aped our worst aspects and missed our best, in a measure, perhaps because we have failed to produce them. But they know our streets are cleaner. Because we clean them. We keep a tended front garden. We mend the fences. We take the rubbish to the tip. Not always, but these are the accepted practices among our people.

The Parade through the village is lined with Muslim food outlets. Dessert bars, ice cream parlours, steak houses, chicken grills. The patrons are almost exclusively Muslim. On Sunday morning the streets are lined with discarded bottles, half-eaten meals, plastic bags  of rubbish simply flung from car windows.

Also on Sunday morning, a small team of volunteer litter pickers do what they can to clean up the mess. There are people of all races in those groups, but my brothers and sisters are generally in the fore. I don't participate. I pick up litter when I can do it unobtrusively. On the sly, as it were.

Gradually, as the Islamification process nears completion, the neighbourhood starts to go downhill, so up and coming Muslim families move further from the city, and the process is repeated.

We are a shepherd nation but we are not fulfilling our God-given role of custodians and teachers. Our own teachers are blind and deaf and foolishness reigns in their heart. Our wells have been stopped. Our holy men mocked, their voice blotted out. Our Muslim neighbour must come to understanding or be removed from our midst, Perhaps removal is anyway required. I don't know, it's in the hand of God. But this land was indeed given unto my people and that matter will not be forgotten.

Whatever we can teach our heathen neighbours they can take to their own kinsmen and women in their native lands. Many of these people once followed ancient and effective dietary and healing practices, but they have been seduced and persuaded to abandon them and replace them with harmful practices and conceits. I wonder if they realise that they are just pawns in this game. 
They too are hated.

In these days and perhaps forever, we are the watchman in the tower.

There cometh a time when we must sound the trumpet and take up that sharp two-edged sword of truth that is given into  our hand.

Insurance companies greedy, or the law misapplied?

When a taxi passenger opened the door into my passing car, gouging the wing and ripping off the mirror. I'd never had an accident before so I had no idea how to react. The driver offered a private settlement but since the damage looked quite bad and I was perhaps in a state of shock I didn't know what to suggest. As it turns out a cup of coffee would have been worth it, but I suspect the offer would have been a couple hundred. I asked someone with "more experience", and I was given the incorrect advice to claim unless the price offered was identical to the repair cost, so I got a quote and then politely turned down any offer under 500. I then faced the tedium of phoning the insurance company, with the inevitable keypad based call routing and endless questions and formalities. I explained the situation and was about to make the claim, but when I asked for reassurance that my premium would be unaffected I discovered that no guarantee of that would be offered.

So that was that. Having heartlessly turned down any offer below market value made by the taxi driver I simply forked out 50 quid for an aftermarket mirror and retained the dents.
On a more positive note, I can imagine the taxi driver's relief when he realised that no claim had been lodged so he suffered no loss (his car was fine)

But it served me right, really.

Car insurance is ultimately about serious accidents resulting in loss of life or disabilities. That's really what it's for. Also those cases may end up in legal wrangling, being the love of money the root of all evil, but I think most settlements will anyway be substantial and hopefully ease the lives of those affected.

The Bible recommends that we should agree quickly with our adversary and discourages the recourse to legal redress. 

A resolute or stubborn citizen can perhaps simply accept higher premiums and then make more claims. I think higher-equity people driving very expensive cars might do that, so I pray that I will never damage another's property if a reasonable financial settlement and a handshake will not be accepted in retribution.

Birthday gifts

I'm not a fan of birthday celebration.
I think the Bible would bear me out in attributing little importance to such matters, although great age is always honour and therefore must be acknowledged and accepted in prostration before the Lord.

I will soon reach my three score and ten, so I will view every day and even minute thereafter as a special blessing.

I have developed a strong dislike for churches. They are dark and foreboding, despite the forced gaiety. There are urgent matters that remain unaddressed in the assemblies. I have tried to interact, but I am always rejected because my views do not suit their statement of faith, as drawn up by a council of elders, most of whom do indeed, I have come to believe, walk in darkness, while professing themselves to be wise.

Suffice to see that most self-confessed Christians today follow the wicked coming rapture / tribulation interpretation, which is an outright piece of mischief perpetrated by John Darby and Cyrus Scofield among others. This doctrine saw the formation of the wicked Jehovahs' Witnesses cult, which has ensared so many with its lies. 

The Bible does not teach this at all, as I discovered with my repeated careful readings, also in Italian. I then discovered that our people had only started to believe this since the mid 1800s and, inevitably, it hastened the decline of the Church, since the flock was told they would be preserved only through the intervention of our Lord and Saviour on some terrible future date, so they had better make sure they stay in his good books. All those fellows shuffling around with those miserable "the end of the world is nigh" signs. There are thousands of books that have declared various dates for the end of the World or the coming tribulation. It is an industry. But it us pure tomfoolery and even witchcraft, the very stuff of the enemy, to distract and terrorise our once valiant warriors - men and women, in their roles. 

This is an absolute travesty of Biblical interpretation, in my own view and in the view of many of my peers across the world. 

It is also blasphemous, because it is casting doubt over the validity and sufficiency of the finished work of Christ, who said "It is Finished" on the cross.

It is completely disregarding the Psalm verse most frequently repeated by our Lord during his ministry:

The LORD said unto my Lord, sit though at my right hand, until I make thine enemies thy footstool.

God has spoken here. It is unacceptable to me that almost every church is unwilling to listen.

I also consider the complete rejection of the scientifically proven and provable facts concerning the nature of the Earth and the Heavens, which rational and scientific inquiry will reveal to be precisely as described in the Word of God, as we must expect, as believers, but the programming is deep. Globe images have been implanted in our mind day after day, at the start of every movie and newsreel. They were mandatory. The globe was a key tool in the classroom... greatly admired.

My translation work has tailed off lately, so I am thinking of applying for a job in a bar, when I feel physically fitter. I am currently training hard and amending my diet for the utmost health, having finally realised the importance and indeed necessity of that practice. I have been considering getting a road bike with fatter tyres, but my fitness is not yet such as to feel confident riding a bike in or near traffic. I have bought a sports car, which I had been planning to do since selling my MGTF about ten years ago.

This aside, I cannot hold my tongue in the matter of Scripture when I am speaking to fellow Christians, although I don't like to bother people. I should perhaps issue a warning at this point. I have twice stood up in different assemblies and cast down carefully worded rebukes for acts and omissions that clearly dishonoured the Lord Jesus Christ. I didn't plan to do that. I was stood up and given words, on both occasions. And I had all the necessary volume to reach every corner of the churches in question. The risk would be that I am witness to any sort of overt and communal false teaching and acceptance of false principles. Apparently, I can't shut up.

Even the Islamists are not immune.

I accuse them all. Of error, which is another word for "sin". Lack of diligence. Over-reliance on the words of man and gross under-appreciation of the very Word of God.

Slothfulness. Reclining in comfort. Many people of my age are quite unwell, but they do not use diligence and wisdom in searching out the truth and the reason for their sickness. The food they eat, the medicines they take. The very water from the tap. The hum of EM energy from overused smartphones

The EMF stuff is or was a great focus in the new age, also because it gave some men and women the opportunity to sell stuff by ascribing arcane properties to natural materials. Perhaps their allocations are reliable, but they produce only confusion because there is no leader in the new age movement and no standard of truth. There is no King, merely a fallen angel.

Many of my kinsmen and women follow pagan, neo pagan, druidic, heathen, return to nature paradigms. Pick and choose. Some like crystals - very pretty for the ladies. Copper, silver, (gold was generally absent due to its high price). Pyramid structures provide a protective cocoon or concentrator of energy, understanding and health. Perhaps they work. I did sit under one when I was chatting up a witch, so she could show me how good she was at reiki healing. She was very good at doing those sinuous types of movements with her hands and arms while she seemed to be doing squats and stretches around me without ever touching my skin. I suspect she was showing off her trim physique to any  casual onlookers.

The therapy didn't affect me (unlike her physique), but when I went outside and sat down on a bench Shon came over and pointed out that it was dedicated to someone of precisely my name and surname and I was sitting beside the plaque, although my middle name was not mentioned. Surely a coincidence. I had been speaking quite intensely to a young woman  on the subject of our freedom in Christ. She was a volunteer of some kind of group that was engaged in providing aid for families persecuted by the court through child removal orders and such sorry matters. Salvation through works. She seemed to be contemplating the idea. 

I don't presume that there is no power in magic, but I don't fear it because the Lord will always sustain us in the valley.

I think it's a shame that so many people have been drawn into these cultish practices, because all of those things are ultimately futile and meaningless. They are performative, and they only thinly conceal all the usual pride and nastiness that characterises much of modern society, with public displays of virtue and private displays of ignominy.

True joy and meaning comes from the Word of God. That's the first step. All other benefits flow from that source. And those benefits will be so manifold that there is no need to distract the mind because we will be showered with such abundance.

Life becomes exciting and dynamic. The blood starts to flow in the veins.

That's a life worth living. 

Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved.

I don't speak from any personal high place. I am a fool, and the matter is plain for any to see. I am a man of no importance, a pilgrim and a stranger. But I have something to say nonetheless. A man must be free to speak his mind, if he speaks fairly and honestly, without offending the name of our Lord.  If people will listen to me, I have something to share. And I will share it from the Bible, line by line, here a little, there a little.

But no one will listen. I mean hardly anyone. except for a few people on YouTube with The Gnostic Amen or The Rational Rapture, but most of my videos only get a handful of views - deservedly really - I am not a very accomplished speaker let alone videographer. I am practicing at best.

I am a translator, and I take my profession very seriously indeed. I think that has helped me see through the mist a little, with my necessary professional focus on detail in wording and meanings. I have been vindicated in my career with my success. It has provided a very good livelihood for thirty years or more. So I have external validation of my ability to interpret writings of all types. I also learned something of philosophy when I was drawn into an online philosophy forum that turned out to be a cult. So the philosophical consequences of Biblical precepts became clearer. I know that philosophy is a Greek art, it is nonetheless useful, allowing us to refine our understanding of nuance and interests. 

Likewise psychology, having undergone two separate psychoanalytical therapies lasting around three years, I have learned how to probe the psyche and discovered how it is voluble.

All wisdom and understanding comes by the grace of our Lord, but we are discouraged from folding our hands to sleep, and study is valuable for the aim of self-improvement and becoming wiser. We are instructed in Proverbs to seek wisdom, as the most precious gift, better than rubies! I think we have to do the work (self-work, not community "works"). That is the inevitable consequence of our dedication and shows our trust in the hand of God. He will provide the health, happiness, strength, and wisdom that we all need, but we have to exercise the muscles and faculties he has so gracefully dispensed. Lip service will not suffice. Surely it is sinful (error) to not use our gifts to their full advantage and I suppose hardly anyone does that - the bar is set high.

The Nature

Our understanding of the nature of animals has been interfered with by the adversary through literature and movies to which my generation has been heavily exposed.

When I lived in the mountains in northern Italy (2009) I realised the older people lacked the tendency towards the sentimental anthropomorphism that pervades in today's Western culture. Perhaps it was because they had not been exposed to the propaganda - televisions were rare in the mountains, traditionally poorer areas, even up to the 1970's and much of the population was "semi-illiterate", speaking dialect among themselves and so reading little more than a sports newspaper in the bar.

Walt Disney (DYODD) populated our homes with talking animals. They were charming and we were charmed (a practice of witchcraft)

I think the Bible teaches us that animals are dumb beasts; they cannot reason. They are empathetic sometimes. Perhaps they exhibit instinctive behaviours that mimic emotional expression. Also, those animals that care for their young must be empathetic, for their very survival. I now think that it is dangerous to invest animals with human properties, even in our mind.

Today, we have animals as pets, but the practice was unheard of in older times. The idea of keeping a dog for anything other than gun work, farm work, guard duties and so on was seen as an affectation. Wealthy ladies, I was told, started to want a lap dog that they could pet. I suppose they'd seen them on the movies. And so dogs were gradually brought into the heart of the home as companions.

In the Bible, dogs are not recommended for this purpose at all. They are seen as scavengers, licking up the blood of various ill begotten souls or even their own vomit (which dogs will indeed do of course).

Animals have a spiritual nature, and we can enter into communication with it, but I think that is extremely hazardous and I would not personally do it. I know many new age pagans who get into these practices, but even as an ex dog owner and lover, after coming to Christ I prefer to keep things separate.

In the UK, I have not so far seen any veal for sale. I'd like to ask the butcher, but I think it might not be readily available. Its loss is due to cries of cruelty, because of the "stalled ox".

The fatted calf, which is on sale in Italy, is rightly considered the very finest of meats.

Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith

When I first read this I thought the hatred may be related to the "cruelty", so I used it to reassure a vegan I was frequenting at the time instead of setting her straight.

Mind you, no one likes getting set straight, man or woman, because they like it just the way they are. Their chosen way. A man may be persuaded (and he may not), but only some external event or circumstance can change a woman's course. She cannot be persuaded by reason nor logic, she scoffs at them as imposters.
There is armor to pierce, and only the spirit has that power.

Tattoo

[Update: I had two tattoos on my forearms: 

Ave Christus Rex (right)
and
Peace on Earth (left)

When the tattooist saw the verses I had prepared he suggested they were probably a bit too long for a first tattoo, and I had to agree]

Today I will go to the tattoo parlour for my first marking.

I have decided to forgo graphic illustrations of any kind, for now, and use words only.

So I have been attempting to find suitable Bible verses and the list is, of course, endless.

Although the first Latin phrase is not in the Bible. It is generally used by Catholics but the meaning is precious to me; Hail Christ the King!
The only Bible reference is just before the Crucifixion in John 19:3 
And said, Hail, King of the Jews! and they smote him with their hands.
So it is potentially Catholic trickery to use this verse to praise our King, also because it parodies the classic Roman greeting of "Hail Ceaser".
But the words are plain. So it's edgy.

Therefore, my skin marking, forbidden by law, can potentially have many effects: 
I am stating my belief that I am no longer under the law and may act freely in the grace of my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ and in His Holy Name.
I am offering a conversation starter to people raised in the wicked - although no more wicked than the Anglican one - Catholic faith.
I offering a conversation starter to those who know the Italian Bible
And I am sharing some powerful verses, which anyone who cares to approach me will probably read, at some point.

Here is my shortlist:

Ave Christus Rex

Psalm 23:

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me

L'Eterno è il mio pastore, nulla mi mancherà.

Psalm 23:1

Bless the LORD, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy name.

Psalm 96: 9

Benedici, anima mia, l'Eterno, e tutto quello che è in me benedica il suo santo nome.

O worship the LORD in the beauty of holiness: fear before him, all the earth.

Psalm 96: 12

Let the field be joyful, and all that is therein: then shall all the trees of the wood rejoice

Ecclesiastes 3:1,8

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

Ecclesiastes 7:4

The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning; but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.

Ecclesiastes 9:7

Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart; for God now accepteth thy works.

Ecclesiaste 12:14

Poiché DIO farà venire in giudizio ogni opera, anche tutto ciò che è nascosto, sia bene o male.

John 5:24

Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life.

John 8:12

I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.

Ephesians 5:23

For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body.

Ephesians 6:12

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.

Hebrews 4:12

For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.

1 John 5:7,8

For there are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one.

And there are three that bear witness in earth, the Spirit, and the water, and the blood: and these three agree in one.

Genesis 1:1,2

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. 

And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

Proverbs 25:15

By long forbearing is a prince persuaded, and a soft tongue breaketh the bone.

Giovanni 3:16

Poiché Dio ha tanto amato il mondo, che ha dato il suo unigenito Figlio, affinché chiunque crede in lui non perisca, ma abbia vita eterna.

John 3:16

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

To go camping to go

 

I took the six o'clock train from my preferred station rather than the nearest one. My station is about a mile and a half from my house. The walk is invigorating. It's the one opposite the record shop and a very good full-English breakfast place,. Closed.
I had eaten egg and bacon before leaving because I knew the shops and cafes would be closed. In this, Italy is much to be preferred. There is always a bar open somewhere and they keep proper hours, nice and early.
I was carrying about 14 pounds in a knapsack, and walking with my regular cane. I think walking with a cane is sensible for me, because I feel a bit unsteady sometimes. It could be psychological and it surely is, in part, but my muscles don't seem to respond as readily as would be needed to have good balance. I have been exercising and walking 4 miles every day for the past 4 months in the attempt to correct this, and sometimes I can walk very freely and I put the cane across the top of my satchel. But I always get it out again when the ground becomes slippery or uneven. It is also very helpful for crossing roads. Drivers are generally more attentive if they see an elderly man.

I learned recently that it is ill-advised to use the expression " elderly man". I am to refer to myself as an older man and I will do that in the future. It is actually important to sound compos mentis and there is nothing wrong with injecting a bit of art into the practice of speaking. And I would like to leave the cane at home sometimes. It may be a question of practice.
Today, a cane is perfectly suitable for walking in the hills. It is my father's hiking cane. He would never use it unless he had his hiking boots on his feet. 

The train was almost empty and thus very comfortable. I could choose any seat and spread my arm across the backrest.
It is already light at that hour in the summer months.
There are many stations and stops on the line, so I had plenty to look at, with a few people on the platforms and some train staff, or maybe it was the guard.
It was more luxurious than the little train I used to take in Italy when I stayed with my friend out of town. On that train, you had to go and knock on the door of the driver's cabin and organize your ticket on boarding if you had been unable to buy one (there was no machine on the platform). I found out later and I apologised. I said I didn't know about it. It was a wartime train and the local people called it by a moniker. Everybody knew about it and said they liked it, but they avoided it and drove their cars, so mainly young folks and poor people used the train.

I was headed for a small village I knew well, because it had been home to my mother and father for the last forty years of their life.
It's still called a village, and even though it has grown quite a bit it's  hemmed in by the green belt, a golf course, two busy arterial roads, the railway, and the two wooded hills that overlook it.

Those hills were my destination, and I planned to visit the more easterly of the two. When I reached my station I checked my kit on the platform, shouldered the knapsack, and set off.

I peered hopefully down the high street, which I only had to cross, to see if the new trendy coffee bar was already open and I thought I saw some signs of life, so I strolled down to check. It wasn't too far and a coffee would be good.
I got lucky - they weren't open but the woman that runs it made me a coffee anyway. She was hot. Cougar figure and stance. I think she was running the place with her husband who was perhaps also present because someone called out a question and she turned to reply.
Men hit on women like her all the time. Especially if they don't know she's married. But maybe she isn't. A married woman should be more discreet. She shouldn't give her husband any cause for concern. But in the modern world, marriages are just longer long-term relationships and mostly end in a few years. Or are declared to have ended by some petty scribe lacking any such authority.
I was glad I had gone in. The coffee was great and she was nice.
I left after about 10 minutes and went back up the high street and then turned right. This is where the road starts to climb, but I kept up a good pace and took a longish break when I got to the bench near the top. I now had to cross a busy road, but there are lights for pedestrians on both carriageways so it's quite safe.
I pressed on through a small cluster of more modern homes and then into the lane, where the houses are stylish, larger, and older. The setting is rural, although very near the action available in the city. I once considered applying for a house in the second picturesque lane leading to te farm. The accommodation was too cramped and costly for me in the end. It was a tiny cottage with stone floors and a fireplace. I looked at the advert longingly for a couple of weeks.

...work in progress