Monday, 6 July 2015
Sunday, 5 July 2015
It's unfortunate, isn't it? I mean this hasn't the least pretence of impartiality and the interviewer often tries to trap the children with words and bogus, cynical analogies, and they're too stupid to argue back. The children all know the vocabulary; "gender" for "sex;" "LGBTQ+" for what used to be called simply "the gay community," or just "queers;" and so on. Also, the only one interviewed who expresses any real doubts about the transgender problem is a black youth who comes across as a bit thick. This is the future! A generation of well-meaning, but misguided, young people who are slowly losing the grasp between right and wrong; between truth and falsehood; between man and woman; between classes; between races; between religions; between all distinctions. Everyone is everyone, and everyone is nobody. You're "assigned" a "gender" at birth, and your actual biological sex is a personal choice like any other, like what you choose to believe about God, or your breakfast cereal. I can say that I believe in religion; you can say that you believe in science. The fact that that is completely hollow is beside the point. But this is just the beginning. Soon you'll only be allowed to think what the governing elite of Bourgeois Bohemians tell you to think. These days that state of things is supreme only in most public services and the media. But soon, no doubt, there'll be a government employee listening at the back of churches to inform the government about the content of Fr Smith's sermon, and whether he did in fact say "male and female created he them." Then maybe something unfortunate will happen to Fr Smith. And the next generation of young people, having this generation of ill-educated, largely amoral young people as their parents, is going to be even worse. What will they be like? What new moral evil or mental illness will be brought from the netherworld of taboo into the common light of day by some pioneer? We can only dread.
Saturday, 4 July 2015
Since the beginning I have controlled the publication of comments on this blog. That won't change. I am quite liberal about that which is published. I am not interested in comments that are personally critical; it's water off a duck's back when it is not constructive, but so long as standards of decency are maintained I have no qualms about publishing them. But I will not publish abuse, sarcasm or long-winded tangents, especially from people who are utterly and invincibly convinced of Rome’s claim to be the true church, let alone a church. One such contributor is "AnthonyMunday." You will follow the link to his profile in vain, since it is not available on Blogger, but we can expect as much from such a one. Since vowing to give up his persona and move onto better things in a hissy fit a few months ago, I have refused to publish his comments. Now, you'd expect most trolls to just give up after repeated attempts to impose their unwanted, feeble points of view in a forum in which they aren't welcome, but not he (assuming it is a man)! At first, like any other reader, I let through his comments. I disagreed with them, and made plain my disgust with any person who tried to drag me back into the Papal communion, but it transpired that his long-winded tangents degenerated into insults and personal abuse when it was made aware that I would not tread the Romeward path. I'll give readers a sample of his wit this once, so that they can shun him (shake the dust off your feet, &c), and my advice to other Bloggers would be to delete any comments he leaves on your blogs without reading them; they are clearly left to cause a nuisance.
"I feel your pain, Kallistos! You’re having a bit of a crisis at the moment. Be assured, I have prayed for you, as requested.
"It’s such a shame (I’m being selfish now) that you’re not Catholic anymore. Otherwise, we could have met up at Westminster Cathedral one Saturday for the 10.30am Mass. I could have given you a hug (no funny business, please – I’m unacquainted with the works of Dorothy), then we could have got in line for confession with the Caribbeans and Asians, lit a votive candle at St John Southworth, raided the Catholic bookshops, and then I could have treated you to a boozy pub lunch in Pimlico, you on the Margaritas and me on the real ale.
"Oh well….. such is life. “Farewell, Tadzio....it was all too brief”."
What a prat!
Art: Ted Nasmith. Bilbo's trolls. Not his best painting but given the subject...as my father would say in his assiduous way, "you can't polish a turd."
This is an iconic scene from Scent of a Woman, which I'm sure most of you have seen at some point. Shortly after I told my mother about my "predicament" this film was screened on the television. I remember my mother said something like: "the young lady is beautiful and it astounds me that you don't feel anything." I don't think I said anything in response, being quite used to the many barbed comments on that subject and general condescension. But I thought then, and think now, that it is tragic or unfortunate, or any one of those words, that the young lady, Miss Gabrielle Anwar, is indeed beautiful and lofty, but that I truthfully feel nothing about her beyond some reminiscent or faint sense of maternity or companionship; similar feelings I felt about dancers at the Irish dance academy I attended as a boy (specifically Sinead and Taylor). What stirs me more than anything about this film is the young Mr O'Donnell.
This post is for the benefit and remonstrance of those of you who stupidly think that there is no such thing as homosexuality. It is true that you can only speak significantly of actions as being homosexual, and repeated actions lead to a homosexual lifestyle, but the dream remains. And I suppose the dream is an extension of some underlying problem. Do I bear the brunt of the idolatry of this post-Christian society? Who knows.
Friday, 3 July 2015
This article by Dr Michael Scheuer is a brilliant and succinct analysis of the last week's events. A sample:
"...Cameron, Obama, and most Western leaders will publicly speak as if their nations, populations, and military capabilities currently equate to the united and powerful nation-states they were during the Cold War. They will speak in this manner because they are willing to lie to hold onto political office. In reality, most Western nations are bankrupt; each has knowingly eroded its national unity, internal security, and societal cohesion by allowing nearly unlimited immigration by people who refuse to assimilate and who are often anti-Western; and most have degraded their militaries by starving them of much-needed cash in order to pay for social services and fanatically pursue the nation-killing policies of diversity and multiculturalism."
No wonder Dr Scheuer's enemies think he's a stupid nuissance. He sees more clearly than them!
The photo is of Broadstairs beach. I was there on Wednesday and spent much of the time bemoaning the lack of public indecency laws in this country.
Tuesday, 30 June 2015
UPDATE: I should very much like to know what the mainstream churches have to say about this. I can't imagine they really give a crap, to be honest.
You might say I am a fussy eater. You might say I am conscientious. You might think it hypocritical for a person (I have always found it difficult to say "man") like me to feel so strongly about this seemingly ephemeral issue when I profess carelessness about so much else.
Let Muslims eat halal meat if they want. It has nothing to do with me. Just don't bring it into my house and expect me to eat it.
"What?! Surely chicken is just chicken?" Asks the secularist.
And there it is. Those six words could not convey more the reality of our disintegration into apostasy and barbarism. The apathy about certain ethnic foods in the West is not just a symptom of multiculturalism. It is the prime token of a complete lack of conviction and belief in God. Most people who have anything at all to say about halal object to labelling and such things on "animal rights" grounds; the same people who lobby against foie gras for example; and the propriety of eating the flesh of an animal that has been sacrificed to a Middle Eastern tribal deity soundly rejected in the West does not enter their imaginations. And when the point is pressed they don't care. But I do; I do care! The trouble is, my convictions are treated as frivolous and prejudiced. But that's not surprising. When eating is reduced to a bare necessity to keep functioning in a pathetic, meaningless life in which our actions have no consequence beyond their immediate effect (the secularist position), what does it matter what we put in our bodies? Does St Paul's admonition about fellowship with devils have any significance beyond the apocalyptic days of early Christianity? It's marvellous that everybody hates the Muslim world nowadays but nobody seems to care about eating Muslim food. Am I just a lonely voice in the wilderness? Does anybody else feel as I do? Comment below!
Saturday, 27 June 2015
The Ultramontanists will argue that these are mere "ecumenical gestures," as opposed to doctrine enshrined in praxis. I fail to understand the difference. If the Roman church believes that women's ordination shouldn't take place, why countenance it in the Vatican, of all places? If the pope had a spine he'd summon his Cardinals and Swiss Guards about him and order these women out of the old Papal State as an affront to his dignity. Just look at them! Hair unkempt and uncovered, dressed in men's clothes. Pius XII wouldn't have put up with that! But no, in this time of relativism we're so accustomed to the pope's smiling face and all those hearty, well-meaning embraces. He'll be shaking hands with gay lobbyists next.
Do you know, it's images like these that add credibility to the Sedevacantist position. "Neo-Modernist Rome," and all that. In fact, of all strains of traditionalism I have a slight respect for the Sedevacantists (that is not reciprocated, I assure you!). Their arguments are all wrong but at least they understand that Rome itself is a stumbling block and must be reformed or restored in some way. To that position I would add that these images are just another example of the constant tendency of the Papacy throughout history to have its fingers in every pie. It just wouldn't do to turn the trendy Lutheran clergywomen out, would it? After all, what is doctrinal integrity compared with a photo opportunity? And we're to believe that Rome is the "true church?" Don't make me laugh!
Friday, 26 June 2015
I think we've all seen the news about the Greek Orthodox turned Episcopalian choir director. I read the story with the same boredom I get when listening to the likes of Shirley Williams ranting on about gender politics and equality because these stories of enlightenment or apostasy or transcommunionism are all the same. Over the last six years, when the spider's web of traditionalist propaganda began to disintegrate around me (due in no small part to the ineptitude and bad attitude of traditionalists themselves), my attitude to my own latent homosexuality has gone from shame and concealment, through burning pride to a kind of bland acceptance. These days I think it is of supreme importance that people know about my predicament not out of a sense of pride or solidarity with people of my own kind but so that they are aware that not all of us are the same. The catalyst for my severing the communion of Rome (unfortunately not at the root; would that I had access to a firearm and the apostolic palace!) was indeed homosexuality. It is unfortunate that this occurred during the "burning pride" phase because things might otherwise have been at least slightly different. I was turned out of my parish by a Lawrentian bigot because I had committed the cardinal sin of openness. I then used this as an excuse to actualize my already fierce internal contempt of the pope and just give up trying to reform his communion in my modest way. I burned Summorum Pontificum and publicly announced my apostasy.
Unlike our unfortunate, like-everyone-else Episcopalian choir director though I have never looked upon other homosexuals with admiration or solidarity, and I have never really thought of homosexuality as something innately praiseworthy. Whenever men have made known their sexual desire for me my first reaction is usually revulsion. Whenever I have been in the company of other homosexuals and am witness to their camping about my first reaction is, "well, this is all a bit silly and frivolous, isn't it?" And whenever I condescend to read their sob stories my first thought is, "well, homosexuals are always complaining of one persecution or ailment, or another. Let's talk about something else!" When I went for my training with the bank there was a woman present from that cosmopolitan paradise South Africa (a professed Christian, in fact) who said that her homosexual brother had suffered some form of phobic persecution, the token, she thought, of a backwards-looking, intolerant society. I thought "shew me all the scars and bruises in the world; my heart is stone within me." Naturally, my mind went back to the vestry expulsion but I thought better of adding to the homosexual's never-ending tale of woe. It angers me.
But this clone of the typical modern homosexual claims overflowing gratitude for a decent formation in Hellenism and Byzantine liturgy as he walks consciously and voluntarily into the arms of death but at the same time complains of feelings of insecurity over his Greek parish priest, anxiety about being denied communion, and even mentions "gay marriage." It's as though he's listened with cloth ears to the Gospel narrative all his life while going "la la la la la." Nothing substantial can have really rubbed off. Now, he and I might both be sprinting down the wide and easy path but at least I protest my homosexuality and don't buy the LGBT rubbish! You can't enjoy being homosexual and expect God to approve! Making my own concentric circles around the Wisdom of God I have come to the conclusion that all this progress to acceptance of homosexuality is the token not of enlightenment but of barbarism. Just like the hotels that hide away the most dangerous criminals, the stories of senseless violence and menace we see in the news, the wind farms (a clear example of a country consciously regressing), being wished a happy Ramadan by a BBC weather reporter and a happy "Pride" weekend by the next one. The arrow of time points always in the direction of diminishing difference. Christians are exactly like Jews and Muslims; women are indistinguishable from men, so too is this young Greek pervert like most other homosexuals. So let him go and see how he fares in the not-quite Episcopal Church! It is the Good Shepherd who compasses land and sea to fetch the lost sheep; it has nothing to do with the sheep safely in the fold. You can pray for his soul if you like. Personally, I pray that he fails of all his hopes and ends badly.
Thursday, 25 June 2015
I know I said I would read this encyclical with assiduous detail like no other since Humanae Vitae but I got to about page twenty and lost interest. I can honestly think of better ways to spend my time than in the reading of a two-hundred page document, in translation, on a subject I have almost no interest in and expounded within an ecclesiology I reject. With the Gandalfian axiom "the wise speak only of what they know" firmly in mind, however, I venture to make a few comments on the general topic of global warming, climate change and anthropogenic human activity from the perspective of one who likes to be surrounded by green. I claim no especial knowledge on the matter; just the freedom to doubt what cannot be proved and to acknowledge that science is not an infallible oracle. Please be aware that I use the terms "climate change" and "global warming" interchangeably.
To be perfectly frank, I don't know what to think about the issue or theory of "Global Warming." All my conservative instincts tell me that this is a bogus, unscientific dogma thought up by left-wing, politically correct scientists, of the kind who promote sex reassignment surgery, to coerce governments and local authorities into investing in various forms of so-called green energy, subsidising those hideous and ineffectual "wind farms," and an excuse for cut backs in basic services such as the scandal of fortnightly waste collection. These pale satanic mills, apart from being an unreliable source of energy - they clearly depend upon strong winds - are singly and collectively a waste of productivity and resources; a blight on every hill, moor and sea; and are likely to cause more harm than good in the long term by sheer expense and reliance on auxiliary energy sources. We might as well rely on millions of hamsters on running wheels! And the sheer lunacy of bowing to this possibly mistaken dogma in this way is that here we are in the United Kingdom, sitting on huge piles of coal which is an incredibly cheap energy source which we produce ourselves, and we're not allowed to burn it because of successive EU directives that claim that it contributes to global warming. I don't know how many coal-fired power stations have closed down in the last twenty years but they are closed not because they don't work but because they burn coal, which emits Carbon Dioxide, which is a greenhouse gas and therefore, putatively, contributes to global warming.
At the same time, we have a national transport system which enshrines the motor car. With one exception, I hate cars. I cannot stand them. If it were up to me the vast majority of them would be impacted, melted down, with the metal and rubber used for worthier purposes. I hate motorways too. Why is this, you ask? Well apart from the irritation at seeing at almost every major junction in London some shrine of wilted flowers and a bittersweet photograph taped to a lamppost in memory of the latest crash victim and the kind of male plumage, bolstered by Hollywood, that goes with car ownership; motor cars are ugly, wasteful, dirty, bulky, noisy, over-used and altogether unnecessary and motorways have destroyed the peace, beauty and silence of the countryside - forever. Why should one of my neighbours personally own three cars? Why is it that I can't go for a walk in the country, as is my wont in the Summer, and stand and listen to the natural sounds of Nature such as wind in the trees, water falling over stone, and birdsong, without the interruption of the distant, but never-ending roar of a dual carriageway? Ten years ago, when I was learning to drive, I remember my mother's constant nagging about getting my driving license, and owning a car. It was so important to her as to seem a rite of passage, a kind of moral litmus test of adulthood. Needless to say I don't have a driving license, and have no intention of obtaining one, and the nagging eventually waned with the years but this attitude has not disappeared and is so widespread. A few years ago I was talking to a boy who had recently come into an handsome legacy, and I asked him what he was going to do with the money when he was old enough to spend it. Without hesitation he said: "house and car." But since when did taking one's place in society entail owning a car? These are just some of the moral questions that go with car ownership but it goes deeper than that, overseas and underground.
I cannot understand why we have made our transport system so wholly dependent upon supplies of oil from one of the worst places on earth. Petroleum supplies in Saudi Arabia are notoriously controlled by crude despots whose puritanical beliefs, morals and whole way of life are not dissimilar to the world's latest, greatest enemy - "Islamic State." Our loveless league with the Saudis, which came to an especially low ebb during the 1973 energy crisis (nicely done, Lord Balfour!), has significantly altered foreign policy and has ostensibly contributed to the irrational mess of the motorway and the suburban neighbour who owns three cars. Now, I said earlier that cars are unnecessary. This is ultimately true but I do appreciate that in some of the more remote places of the world, places with which I am myself familiar such as Inishowen and parts of Cornwall, cars are useful. But I cannot see the sense in the dominance of cars in dense, highly-urbanised, intensively-farmed landscapes for which cars are not built. At what point does this just become decadence and laziness? How it it excusable for someone to drive five minutes to their local shop just to buy milk? The fierce arguments I've seen between late mothers on their way to school with the bin men spring to mind. And now that fuel is so expensive I cannot see the sense in owning a car in suburbia at all!
I don't drive. I am clearly a moral and social failure so like the elderly and the weak I am forced to use public transport; in most day-to-day routines the bus. Now rural bus services, such as I have experienced in Cornwall, are infrequent, at odd hours (in some places two a day) and likely to be cancelled at no notice. Suburban and urban services are unreliable, due to the dominance of cars, not very welcoming and extremely uncomfortable. About three years ago, Stagecoach...who has anything to say about privatization?!...rolled out a new bus model. It's called the "enviro-bus." Well anyway, this new bus, a model of global-cooling efficiency in that it runs mostly on electricity and only partially on fuel, is slow, breaks down frequently, and the seats have only the thinnest cushioning which my brother, a bus mechanic, attributes to cases of vandalism and theft. With the wisdom of experience I can tell you that those seats are not for people with piles. Clearly the designers of these red monsters think that passengers deserve shabby treatment as opposed to selfish motor car drivers with leather seats and air conditioning. And as for being good for the environment, my brother says that that may be so in the short term, but what happens when the buses need to be scrapped after a five to ten year life expectancy? Apparently the batteries contain a molotov cocktail of toxic vapours and have to be professionally disposed of in a way that diesel-fueled buses do not, at considerable expense to the tax payer. So much for due economy! And all in the worthy cause of preventing global warming. And trams, which have seen a revival in France, are scorned for being uneconomical and hindering cars!
What would I see? I would see an earnest study of the economic and environmental benefits of switching, over the next twenty years, to a public transport rail and tram based system, nationalized, powered by electricity generated by home-produced coal. That means re-opening the coal mines stupidly closed during the Thatcher years. I would see car ownership restricted to one per family, with a greatly-expanded and increased congestion charge to discourage driving in major cities. I would see more people cycling and walking to work. And would it be too much to expect trains to have dining carts and proper carriages again?! Modern trains put me in mind of those poor souls shoved into high rise concrete flats (which should all be demolished); we're not cattle!
And that brings us to light bulbs. We've all seen how ugly and useless wind turbines are; what of these new light bulbs forced on us by the European Union a few years ago? Well, for a start you pay more for them and when you get them home, you fit them, they don't work with dimmers or with some old lamps, and even a 60 watt bulb gives off a "corpse light" and no more. They don't last as long as traditional bulbs either, despite claims to the contrary. There's nothing more to really say about this other than to observe that this is yet another example of the price we pay for fanaticism, and for being stuck with a political class of inept, self-selecting Bourgeois idealogues who spend their days systematically making the country less English, less British and less Christian.
And where is the empirical evidence for Global Warming? Why should we sacrifice so much for the sake of a theory contested fiercely within the scientific community? There are so many dogmatic exponents of this theory; shouldn't they bear the burden of proof? We've all seen their unfortunate mascot: the polar bear floating on a melting ice floe, trapped beyond hope of escape as it contemplates a watery grave. What is that but a yawning maw for the credulous? We see similar propaganda in the form of television adverts of negro children emaciated in parts of Africa as a celebrity reads a carefully prepared script in a spuriously concerned, melancholy voice. It doesn't wash with me, I'm afraid. Naughty, greedy, carbonic Man! In fact, these "doomed" polar bears prove nothing. How do we know that the melting ice is not due to some other factor, like volcanic activity? Perhaps the photos were taken in the Summer time? And do people expect us to believe that polar bears can't swim?
Eminent naturalist Sir David Attenborough presents the contrary view in favour of global warming. "A disaster," in fact. It is certainly not my place, or indeed anyone's, to gainsay people in matters of their expertise but I can't personally see the connexion between hurricanes, floods and other natural disasters and general climate change. It's like the claims I've seen about some islands that are (apparently) on the verge of submersion because of rising sea levels, as a result of "man-made" climate change. Surely there are true, scientific reasons for this such as litoral erosion or general tipping of the landmass? If the sea was really rising at an alarming rate because of melting polar ice I'm sure the people of East Anglia might be on to Whitehall about it! And as for one's "carbon footprint," by far the most important greenhouse gas is water vapour and NOT Carbon Dioxide, and, albeit I am not a scientist, I was not aware that water vapour contributed to a substantial change in the global climate.
Nobody can seriously deny that climate change occurs. It is a demonstrable scientific fact, proven historically. I expect you have all read about the "frost fairs" on the River Thames in the palmy days before industrialization and the rebuilding of Old London Bridge. What fun they must have been! The Thames hasn't frozen like that since the fell Winter of 1963, and not centrally because of the power stations at Battersea and Bankside. My father vividly remembers that Winter, when snow fell in the Autumn and Spring came late and cold. He described being wrapped up at night in every coat, blanket, towel and bag that my grandmother could find! Contrast that season of death with the famous Summer of 1976. My mother had a fun time everyday at the (now demolished) Danson Park lido. My grandmother complained that the heat ruined the garden. I'm not using these two years as the stimulant for a serious argument, just as an amateur observation that climate changes even within living memory.
What is in dispute here is rather the alarmist, majoritarian and intolerant zealotry with which the climate change lobbyists present their case and whether there is any substance in their argument that climate change is caused solely by human activity. And what I resent, and I expect you do as well, is the way in which we're forced to conform our lives to this possibly mistaken dogma. One major factor in my personal dissent from the accepted view is that it undoubtedly comes from the same source as multiculturalism and aggressive secularism. One might be more inclined to believe the lobbyists if we were not also told that "gay marriage" is right and normal. So I'll stick with this. I am skeptical, naturally, but I am open to wise, fair and true remonstrance from people who know better than I. But political partisanship on the part of the scientific community seriously undermines the case for truth. As the Scripture says, we all have a responsibility for Creation (Gen. 1:28) because we are part of it; indeed our part is enhanced by our unique covenant with God. In my own small way, I try to live as "greenly" as possible without making a song and dance about it. I do not need to march with any lobbyists to feel moved by felled trees, oil spills or ravaged countryside. My views, especially about motor cars, I believe to be objectively and eternally true but I think that the answer to the many and various environmental and meteorological problems we are faced with in this post-Christian world go far beyond that, but also beyond wind turbines and light bulbs. I suppose it rests ultimately upon the question of Modernity, and how to live an authentically Christian life according to the precepts of the Gospel in a post-Industrial world in which everything is so easy. In sudore vultus tui vesceris pane, God said; and this seems to be cruel, but natural.
I can end this only lamely by advising readers to be conscious of Creation because it is our collective responsibility under God to do so. If you recycle, for example, for any other reason than your sense of God-given responsibility towards the trees, grass and water whose beauty God made in antient times then maybe you're doing it all wrong? I suppose it's just as well that I don't know either way! I don't think about this issue much except in a general way of longing for the land about me that was and bemoaning creeping suburbia, and the fortnightly rubbish collection. Only a century ago where I am seated now was farmland, and all the lands about. No more, and it will only get worse. But to such days we are doomed. May God be with us.
Monday, 22 June 2015
Point the first.
Do you know, only this morning, while sitting in the bath, I was having a conversation in my mind's palace about two hundred years ago with a young man I met in Turin. I imagine it to have been about 1770 because the Revolution in France hadn't yet put an end to the Grand Tour and the city was still French. Anyway, the young man (let's call him Dr Fell) and I were discussing, among other less noble things, the degradation of Oxford and Cambridge, the opera, what we'd seen in the Italian states, and Christian society. He initially professed a nominally Christian morality but as time went on this started to crumble as, living up to his macaroni coiffure (almost two foot high!), in grandiloquent style and affectation he disclaimed that he thought little of marriage and seemed to suggest that mos Graeciae was good for the soul. I wondered if he'd met Monsieur de Sade? I should explain that this conversation took place in an area of my mind where there are mostly images and smells rather than books of lore, lyrics to musick and other sounds so I cannot produce particulars, I'm afraid. If it seems an anachronism then that's because I thought of Dr Fell as a 1920's Anglo-Catholic throwback to the 18th century. The only thing that I can clearly remember saying to him was, "have a care, then, lest you do the will of the Devil in your pride and remember that you are of the Church." I then remembered that my own imagination was not quite as fecund or articulate as all that, and that my admonition was itself a paraphrased Tolkienism. I was inspired by Fr Hunwicke to relate this...daydream, I suppose. These are the things that go around my head in the bath. I ought to have been born in 1731.
Point the second.
Without in any way wishing to denigrate the Word of God expounded so beautifully here but tangential to the point of "lover and beloved," even the paederasts of the antient world understood this and made this application to their romantic attachments. Lover, beloved; top, bottom, with the distinction (by all means a moral one) being so sharp that any blurring or reversal of these rôles would be an unspeakable sin. You might argue, with Scripture as your Witness, that this was nature turned in on itself but at least, unlike the modern Gay Equality rubbish, there was no illusion of normality. Not that I'd know but I suppose it's like bloody buggering public school boys who grow up and get married. I think it was only Nero, who was clearly insane, who thought up "gay marriage."
Sunday, 21 June 2015
Of your charity, please pray for the repose of the soul of my uncle and godfather Barnabas ("Barney") Padmore who died twenty-five years ago to-day. I wish terribly that he'd lived if, for no other reason than he had finally found the desire to do so. Otherwise, I can think of no other words to say than those of the hymn that was sung at his funeral and which words were inscribed upon his headstone:
And all through the mountains, thunder-riven,
And up from the rocky steep,
There rose a cry to the gates of heaven,
"Rejoice! I have found my sheep!"
And the Angels echoed around the throne,
"Rejoice, for the LORD brings back his own!"
Number 584 in The English Hymnal.