Nostalgia and a Near Fatality

Being a blogger can have its downs as well as ups. Usually written during a Saturday afternoon, each one gets published by ten o'clock in the evening, although from time to time it's posted around 9.00pm. Then, at about midnight, I bring it back on the laptop screen to proof-read it. It's then when grammatical errors tend to show up, or a sentence or even a paragraph may need to be re-arranged for better clarity. Also, as every blog author on this site is fully aware, the exact number of views is displayed on the dashboard. It is this number which will determine whether the latest post will be a hit or a miss, even over just two hours after posting.

Getting a low turnout after hours spent typing away can be very discouraging, and I have been tempted to pack it in altogether. But if the following week's post turns out to be a hit, then that's a great motivator to keep going. However, blogging on a Saturday afternoon has become something of an addiction - after all, if I were to stop completely, what can I do to replace such a mind-enhancing activity? After all, it's a contrast to the swimming, gym and other physical activity which occupies mid-week hours.

Also, I could add here that I address myself as a blogger rather than a writer. Even if the title, writer, has a nice ring to it. I would love to call myself a writer. But I believe that there is one rather big difference. A writer normally gets paid for his work, usually royalties from the selling of the author's books or in magazines in which his contribution appears. A blogger writes to his own pleasure, normally on the Internet, and if I believe I'm right, he does not get paid for it. With this, I can quote from citations without breaching of any copyright.

Then also is what to write about. Being stuck for a topic is rare but it can happen. But all it takes is a newspaper article, or some conversation at church, in the gym, or elsewhere, and that can be enough inspiration for a blog. Often, current affairs can inspire, especially the present political upheaval taking place at Parliament over Brexit. But often it's the daily routine of life at home that lends a good dosage of inspiration. It can be quite surprising how an article of this kind can be written on what appears simply as an insignificant issue at home, yet a long blog can be written where such a particular issue connects with my faith in God which can catch the reader's eye.

But deleting a whole blog? Well, with over 400 blogs on this page, only two were ever deleted entirely. The first one was from several years ago, not long after I started blogging altogether. But the second one deleted? This week's blog. Rather, the one written and published only last night.

Two reasons for this. First, the number of views recorded on the dashboard was unusually low. But second, and more important, it was too intrusive on my wife's state of health and the sequence of analysis for potential treatments she may have to endure. Personally, I thought such a blog would provide a good read with the attempt to edify the reader, especially a Christian reader. But when I spoke to my beloved about it, she cautioned me. It was after this when I had to have to re-think. I suppose I still have to learn to discern between submitting a good read from being too intrusive. Then again, my whole life, as well as yours, is one whole learning curve. Even then, the arc still remains incomplete when the time comes for us to step off this planet.

Therefore, what did I write about? The few who did read my blog last night before its deletion will, of course, already know. Titled, Cry, Cry To My Soul, Cry, (and I wonder if such a title itself was a turn-off) I detailed my beloved's suffering, visits to hospitals, including the dentist, and a rather detailed set of analysis in order to draw up a diagnosis, and how all this had affected my emotional state. It was a couple of hours later when I realised that such a blog was too intrusive into Alex's private life and therefore had to be deleted before too many read it.

But one issue I will happily share, for this involves nostalgia, a topic I love indulging in! Maybe because I have always been a working-class individual living in a district populated with primarily middle-class families and individuals who, after graduating, have taken up employment in one of many high-tech companies who has established themselves here. A case of an inferior complex on my part? Especially during my bachelor days before marrying at 47 years of age? Maybe so, maybe not. But if making my lifestyle more colourful was somehow mentally and emotionally therapeutic in this society of greater sophistication, so be it. 

Thus, earlier last week, a cycling trip to Frimley Park Hospital, some eight miles from home, to collect a bottle of medicine for my wife, brought back a sense of nostalgia. A 16-mile round trip on the bicycle on an unusually warm February day with wall-to-wall sunshine brought wonderful memories - and also a scary experience. As for pleasant memories, I always found cycling a pleasant experience, despite the tiredness of uphill climbing, aching muscles, riding into a headwind, and the bane of all cyclists - flats!

Stock image.

It was with a friend of mine when we rode End-to-End of Great Britain, that is southbound from John O' Groats on the northern tip of Scotland to Land's End on the near-tropical corner of Cornwall. Near -tropical? In Britain? Well, I did see (rather small) banana trees growing there, along with a species of palm, the kind which finds a home around the Mediterranean. The only other place where I saw banana trees under full cultivation was near Coffs Harbour, in the Australian State of New South Wales. 

As for the End-to-End ride, the seventy-odd miles between Bristol and Exeter almost done us in, and I was tempted to throw in the towel. Nothing more than boring fields for scenery, under a heavily overcast sky, and a strong headwind. It made hill-climbing so challenging, that it could be graded as torturous. When we arrived at a small Devon town of Honiton, we felt relieved, as we knew that Exeter was not far away. But after arriving at Land's End two days later, we celebrated with a bottle of Champagne (or equivalent). It was a great achievement! 

And not to mention the trips to the coast from my apartment, a distance of around sixty miles, but longer rides to other destinations, followed by a comfortable bed at a hotel or hostel. Throughout the mid-1980s into the 1990s, I could consider being at the peak of fitness, when swimming, cycling and running were the three chief activities I partook in. Interestingly enough, my peak age of fitness correlates well with the age Jesus was when he died on the cross, implying that his sacrifice made was at its pinnacle time of his life.

As such, this bicycle ride to Frimley Park Hospital to collect a specific item has brought back such nostalgic memories. That is until I was overtaken by a huge juggernaut. Now as any rider would testify, being overtaken by motorised traffic is a constant, perfectly normal procedure whilst on the road. However, if the road you're riding on turns out to be a dual carriageway, with an extra lane specifically for overtaking vehicles, then you would expect that the overtaking vehicle to leave a wide enough berth between it and the cyclist.

But no, not this juggernaut driver. Instead, he veered to the left whilst actually overtaking, leaving me with hardly any room to pedal. I actually thought this was it. Indeed, I have read of quite a number of incidences when a cyclist was killed just by being clipped by an overtaking truck, or even by a bus. These incidences had taken place mainly within Central London as well as elsewhere in the UK. I think that these fatal lorry/bike contacts had prompted transport authorities to set aside bicycle lanes alongside main roads, something of an annoying stigma for many motor drivers.

However, in this case, I have wondered whether this truck driver actually failed to see that he was approaching a rider from behind. If that was the case, then I wonder how he had so successfully acquired his HGV licence after taking a provisional road test, which was reputed to be tough. It is through this kind of reasoning that I tend to lean on the theory that his clever manoeuvre was deliberate, a ploy to prove his macho superiority as a trucker over a cyclist by giving me a fright.

To me, that is incredulous! I wasn't even clad in the hated shining Lycra costume which poses a threat to many an ego at the steering wheel. Those days of wearing one had long gone! Instead, I was dressed in normal day clothes, and a pensioner to boot. Yes, a pensioner. How could I be a threat to anyone's ego?

I suppose that the apostle James was right when he wrote an exhortation not to be too confident for the future, for nobody knows what's around the corner (James 4:13-15). It was easy to say to my beloved,

"Sweetheart, I'm going to cycle all the way to Frimley to collect your medicine. I should be back after a couple of hours (to allow for a coffee at the hospital restaurant)."

Perhaps the usage of the word should be the most appropriate, rather than shall or will. Because James could have approached from behind, tap me on the shoulder and say,

"Don't kid yourself, pal. This very day you will be at home with your Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Then what will happen to your wife's medicine?"

And as I ride along, perhaps pretty fast along the highway, this trucker, in his attempt to give me a fright, slightly miscalculates and his heavy juggernaut clips my bike, sending me flying. Next, I find myself in Heaven with the Lord. How true James's word can really be?

However, I'm still here, having added this experience to all my past cycling experiences, and thanking God for the very breath of life. Over the years I have come to appreciate each day the Lord has allowed me to remain here, to love my wife dearly, to comfort and to care for her as my soulmate and as one in the flesh, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. In return, I can bask in her love for me, her submissiveness according to Biblical principles, and her support, especially in the time of need or in making a difficult decision.

I thank you, Lord Jesus, for giving me such a lovely wife who thinks the world of me. In you, Lord, I give credit.