Must really make an effort to make these reflections / ramblings fully honest (the Truth bit) and then put my ghosts to rest ( the Reconciliation bit)

Ergo, gone back over the blog listing the heroes and villains of my history with some amendments to the ‘Villains’ section / categories. There’s no point in being shy of the truth to save ego for someone else who may feel offended in the unlikely event of them reading it.

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This… as Annie Lennox sang. Song reverberating from Thursday’s Wedding Party in Greenwich.

Don’t know whether it was age, drink [lack of], or just the realisation that the kids are grown up and almost so adult that they superficially don’t need us that much; that I didn’t sleep that well overnight. Dropping Lil at the station at 5.40 for the train up to London and Chadwell Heath brought that home.  Shades of Intimations of Immortality! That’s for another ramble at a later date. The lines are too full to quote verbatim in this piece but:

Coupling that with having read the BBC article on the deaths of the great and good in 2016, I start to think that we are far too gloom and doom merchants than aught else and from last night’s dreams of the Lucy Poems variety only make worry and depression self-fulfilling. Once fully awake and conscious, they disappear. I’m not a great one for thinking in the physical dark of night. That is too depressing just as is trying to cycle in the gloom of winter mornings.

Well, it’s over for another year. The last tipsy relatives left by 10.00 pm yesterday and the sober, muslim branch left at about 8.30 am today. The house is peaceful but empty; shame really as the buzz from the youngest nephew and niece have kept us going for two days. Began my real ‘meaning of Christmas’ meal this morning with the obligatory turkey sandwiches. Not sure wholemeal brown rolls counted!

The whole bit about Christmas was strangely fragmented. Christmas Eve and mass were a bit of a let-down as it’s not the same as Midnight Mass from the 50s, 60s and 70s. Ok we miss the ‘great & good’ imposing their version of Christmastide; overlong service, music etc. but it did have tradition behind it. Maybe it died for me when we started a family or even further back in time when I left Carlisle for good. Anyway, for decency’s sake, I don’t like going to church half pickled or asleep on my feet. Mind you, this year’s sermon was a bit more alert; calling us all to be mindful of the disastrous situations in the middle east where migrants / refugees [like Jesus, Mary & Joseph] are under threat. No solutions except the urge to be more aware; if being more aware then leads to individual action, then all well and good. Anything better than Fr Gregory pushing the parish Pilgrimage to The Holy Land, two years ago!

During the Christmas DY conversations, Sam [ ] wasn’t too sure what I was getting at when I asked what her family did for Eid? “Same as you.” Didn’t understand the conext referred to was The Royle Family. My only experiences of Eid were 44 years ago and blood on the streets of Port Sudan from the animal ‘sacrifices’ or of Sir being unable to buy and slaughter a sheep in the midlands for Eid. All the same, it did reinforce my earlier post regarding the difficulties we have in empathising with other peoples’ cultures and heritages.[ Cross referencing The Good Immigrant.]

I also think that they may have fun coping with the girls  growing up as a teenagesr in multi- cultural Leicester or even university. As for the boy, just hope he has time with Nick & Tom as he gets older.

Khadija, Layla and Princess Lily off to Frozen On Ice at the O2

Long review of books concerned describing  the uses of drugs in modern warfare. The bit that really related to me was this extract below:-

Kamieński confines the use of alcohol in war to his prologue and wisely so, or the rest of the book would risk becoming a footnote to it. A historical sweep from the Battle of Hastings to Waterloo or ancient Greece to Vietnam suggests that war has rarely been fought sober. This is unsurprising in view of the many different functions alcohol performs. It has always been an indispensable battlefield medicine and is still pressed into service today as antiseptic, analgesic, anaesthetic and post-trauma stimulant. It has a central role in boosting morale and small-group bonding; it can facilitate the private management of stress and injury; and it makes sleep possible where noise, discomfort or stress would otherwise prevent it. After the fighting is done, it becomes an aid to relaxation and recovery.

Any young man could tell you that alcohol makes you braver, less inhibited by danger and more aggressive. The usual morning after effects bring an awareness of what you did. Countless court cases reflect this in their reportage. ” My client had a large amount to drink and this affected his ……………………. for which he is truly sorry!” The Evening News and Star are full of this piety. As a former ‘young man‘ and possibly a not even reformed un-young man, this is manifestly untrue because I did know and still know how beer works on my brain; badly.

The whole article is in this link

http://www.lrb.co.uk/v39/n01/mike-jay/dont-fight-sober