My idea of heaven

 

Providing that St Peter hasn't read all the bad bits in my obituary resumé, I'm hoping that he'll allow me into heaven; even if it's to sit in the back seats. The alternative is not to my taste.

What I'm hoping he'll offer me is quite easy, and undemanding. I'm a simple soul.

Heaven (as everyone knows) is situated right beside our house in France, and once again I will be able to occupy my ancient sitting room. The huge fireplace will have been stripped of its wood-burner, and the fire returned to its original state with metre-length (everlasting) oak logs slowly burning over the ancient hand crafted fire-dogs.

In front of the fire will be a Golden Retriever Dog, playing with a Tabby Kitten (Billy is watching from his bed; he's not the playful type). 

Slowly cooking on the fire are some Lamb chops (sprinkled with cumin powder), with some Foil-wrapped potatoes amongst the glowing embers. There is an open bottle of Pécharmant warming by the fire, and the table is set with antique glasses, and dark green Biot plates.  

It is late Autumn, and still not too cold. In the woods there are Cepes and Chestnuts, and my fruit trees are permanently covered in Peaches, Figs, Apples, Plums, and Pears. Haddock's has come back to life, and all the vegetables that I used to grow, are now growing again. Heaven has no slugs or bugs!

Since moving to heaven, my aches and pains have gone, and I have returned to being 100% mobile. I have also regrown my hair, and my teeth are once again that perfect set of my youth. 

In one corner of the room there is a fully decorated Christmas Tree, with a few brightly wrapped presents beneath. On top of the tree, in place of the fairy, sits Mrs Pins; my daughter's Teddy Bear. Billy is looking at his own presents with his usual impatience.

Later in the evening there is a knock at the door, and I find holograms of my three children, and my six grandsons, all eagerly waiting to enter. We sit around the fire and sing carols together, and drink mulled wine.

I'm hoping that 'heaven' will be achievable. I've not been bad, I've never stolen anything, I haven't committed any crime, and I like to think I've been kind to my fellow man/woman.

It's all now in the hands of St Peter.

Muppets - Kermit - Its not easy being green.

Kermit is a hero of mine, and this song is a favourite.

I suppose his 'green' is in fact just 'individuality', and that is something we all possess. We all live our own versions of 'green-ness', and we need to embrace it.

I should add that green is by far my favourite colour, but that's another matter. 

Life in First Class; all right for some!

These snappily western-dressed private plane flyers (above) are allegedly just a few of the top Hamas Billionaires who live a life of luxury away from Gaza; mostly in Qatar, where their huge luxury marble-floored apartments, and very fat bank accounts, are legendary.

When the UN, USA, or Israel sent aid to Gaza, much of it ended up in the pockets of these charming folk. The UN recently claimed that only 29% of all aid sent to Gaza actually reached the people it was destined to help.

I do hope their supporters get to understand this, and don't simply use misinformation as an excuse for their antisemitic hatred. Most of the money donated to help the unfortunates of Gaza, ended-up in the pockets of those who planned the appalling October 7th atrocities.

This is not to say that I don't have huge sympathy for those who are suffering in Gaza, because I do, but until Hamas is eliminated, the search-and-kill process will continue; but now probably from within, rather than from the IDF. The ordinary citizens of Gaza know perfectly well who was responsible for the past two years of hell, and they will seek revenge.

When a new, more democratic and peaceful, government is 'in charge of Gaza', things will settle, foreign investment will pour in, and they will be able to rebuild a life for themselves. I also hope that all those secret bank accounts will be found, and the money returned to who it belongs.

So, did appeasing Hamas, by declaring that Gaza should be called Palestine, do any good? Did it change anything for the people who live there? Starmer mistakenly felt it would, but by alienating both the USA and Israel, he probably did far more harm than good for the reputation of the UK. But that's Starmer for you; he knows his tenure is limited, and he simply doesn't care!

I do see that already Hamas are sending their militants onto the streets of Gaza in the form of 700 'quasi-policemen'. Anyone they don't like the look of, or suspect of being collaborators, will probably be summarily executed (as above); nothing really changes! The different militia groups are already at war with each other, with reports of several killings.

I do hope that Tru*p's peace plan will work, and that those futile words of support for Hamas from Starmer will somehow be confined to history.

Of course, the terrorist billionaires in Qatar will still have their money, their fancy life-styles, and their fans, and I quite expect others will soon join them there.

Israel will return to calm (we hope), but Gaza's civil war is only just beginning. Any group that orders its foot-soldiers to 'cut throats with rusty knives' is not suddenly going to start stroking kittens. They will simply aim their venom against their own people.

Much more truth about Hamas and its hierarchy will soon be revealed, and no doubt their fair-weather foreign supporters will begin to distance themselves.

There but for the grace of god...

 

We have a TV programme in the UK where a large group of volunteer builders, plumbers, and electricians, give their free-time to improve the living conditions of a deserving person or family. The programme, called DIY SOS, has just started a new season, the first (I think) of which was aired a couple of weeks ago.

Isla (above) is an 8 year old child who has a rare genetic condition (Mandibuloacral Dysplasia?), and she needs a specially designed home to make her life more comfortable; which is what they delivered. They converted her unfriendly home into something far more disablement friendly.

Watching the programme humbled me! I suspect I'm not alone in moaning about silly things, but this young girl managed to smile through all her adversities. It made me realise what a charmed life I've led.

Like most people, I've had one or two blips, but in general it has been a smooth and comfortable life. I've achieved most of my aims, and have amazingly managed to do so without becoming bankrupt. I've done things that little Isla could only dream of.

Isla was so excited about her newly fitted-out home, she loved every bit of it, and never stopped smiling. You could hardly imagine a more excited and appreciative child. Her life will never really improve much beyond how she is now, but it will certainly be made far more comfortable. I can guarantee that she won't moan or complain.

We all need to witness people like Isla from time to time, just to re-confirm how lucky most of us are. And to ensure that we are kind to people who are not so lucky.

I send her my very best wishes.

The Final Request

It's possibly something that we've all considered at one time or another; what would you chose as your final meal before the 'death sentence'?

Most would probably plump for a big juicy steak, or a giant McBurger; but this is a serious business. If it is to be the final flavour you will experience (ever), then the choice must be carefully considered.

As I sat before my breakfast yesterday (below), I thought that it would now replace the Confit, or BBQ'd Lamb that I had previously imagined, and that a simple Bacon Sandwich would probably be absolutely perfect.

One slice of seeded wholemeal bread liberally coated with salted butter, a few slices of perfectly fried unsmoked Streaky Bacon, a splash or two of Lea & Perrins, and you have the ideal 'last meal'. You could go to the electric chair, or firing squad, a happy person (or as happy as is possible).

It's greasy, it's 'working class', it's delicious, and it's served in every 'kaff' in the country. It's even loved by Ed Miliband (below). What greater credentials could it possibly need!

Sunday round-up. Funny old world!

Some weeks are more bizarre than others, and we've had a few belters recently.

The whole world was SHOCKED when Harry and Thingy were pronounced 'Humanitarians of the Year' by some unknown US organisation. Have they been up to something behind our backs? I think we should be told! I quite expect someone will soon regret this very silly nomination, and prize.

The British 'Green Party' have been holding their annual conference. At previous conferences they have announced some very strange policies, including wanting to ban children from keeping pet Rabbits, and to reduce the length of artists 'copyrights'. This year they have declared that they wish to legalise ALL DRUGS (including Heroin, Acid, Cocaine, etc), and they also wish to ban private 'Landlords'. Of course, they don't stand a chance of ever running the country (thank goodness), but one can imagine the MASSIVE amount of homelessness this would create; as well as our streets becoming awash with drug-crazed smackheads. I imagine these policies were adopted after a seriously long night on their favourite mix of Ketamine and Coke.

The Labour party's slogan of 'Stop the Boats' continues to amuse everyone. Their latest policy of 'One in, one out' doesn't seem to be adding up as they imagined. Since this puerile scheme was envisaged, just 26 illegal immigrants (yes, 26) have been returned to France, and just over 36,000 were brought here by our Border Force boats (this year alone); who kindly pick them up mid-Channel, and bring them safely ashore. Like most people, my basic maths says that something doesn't seem to add-up; but then I didn't study at the LSE.

Why was I not surprised to hear that Labour MP Rachael Maskell's "stomach churned" at seeing fellow Labour MP's waving British flags at their party conference last week. "That's not the Labour Party" she said "they're just tatty bits of cloth". How do such people get elected to represent the country that they obviously hate so much?

And finally, Saint Donald of Washington seems to have brokered a peace pact between Israel and Gaza; and good for him if it holds. He is now aiming his peace-making skills at both Iran and Russia. Methinks he may be getting a bit big-headed. Threatening a bunch of Hamas terrorists isn't quite the same as threatening Putin. We'll see.

Canine ESP.

Every Friday morning, at 7 am, Kimbo joins me for breakfast.

The strange thing is that Billy knows he's coming. He sits by the back door and waits for him to arrive. He goes to the door at about 6.45 am; and patiently awaits his arrival (below was yesterday).

How he knows it's Friday, or how he knows that Kimbo will be arriving any minute, goodness only knows. It MUST be Canine ESP.

As usual we have a good belly-busting breakfast together. Bacon, Haggis, fried Egg, a few Mushrooms, and some mini Toms. We talk about the world's problems, and discuss how we can solve them. 

He's off to France next week so our breakfast will be put on-hold for a week. No doubt at the cottage he'll find something delicious to eat instead. He doesn't deprive himself. We could, of course, have an international WhatsApp breakfast together; I shall have to arrange it.

Mutual plates such as yesterday's (above) will have to wait for his return. This one was especially good!