Am I Becoming A Brexiteer?

On a typical weekday evening when all scheduled programmes were taken off air simply because the powers-that-be decides to hold the Six Nations Rugby Final on a Friday evening instead of a Saturday afternoon, we made our own decision to switch to the BBC iplayer. Not that I was totally uninterested in rugby - I prefer to watch rugby rather than Association Football. That is Soccer to all American readers. The Final was between France and Scotland. I guess that anyone with a trace of common sense would conclude that either France or Scotland would lift the trophy. Not so. If Scotland wins this game, then the trophy would be lifted by Wales, who didn't make it into the finals.

Six-Nations Trophy - won by Wales, 2021.

Confusing? Maybe I should be, but again, for a game which is played among posh boys attending fee-paying private and public schools, we plebs wouldn't understand, would we? Indeed, Scotland did defeat France by a narrow margin, and so all the Welsh celebrate with jubilation.

And so, what did we watch on the BBC iplayer? A movie based on a true story. The movie was called The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind, which tells the story of a young Malawian teenager, William Kamkwamba (played by Chiwetel Ejiofor) who saves his family from poverty due to the deforestation of the land for industrialisation. And the son's dream was against the wishes of his father, Trywell Kamkwamba, who was hostile to his son's ideas and even gave him a beating.

When the boy was escorted by his proud father into his bedroom, my heart fell, as he saw, for the first time in his life, his school uniform arranged neatly across his bed. It was identical to the uniform worn by any English schoolboy. Not surprising, as Malawi was a protectorate of the UK for 73 years between 1891 and 1964. Therefore, his new set of clothes would include a tie - to be worn at school even within a tropical region. But his wearing of the uniform was short-lived. His family was unable to keep up with the school fees, and he was eventually expelled.

But during his short spell at school, he saw a dynamo fixed to a bicycle belonging to one of the teachers. And from there, he crept into the school library (after he was expelled) to find a book on how electric power was generated. Eventually, he developed within his active mind a way to salvage his family's welfare and fortunes during a time of drought.

His solution was a windmill, which he designed and built with the help of his friends. Once fully erected, and as the sails rotated by wind power, this turned the wheel of a bicycle on which the dynamo was attached. This charged the batteries which powered an electric pump, itself found at a local dumpsite. This pump drew water from a well and irrigated the field on which the family would grow their own crops - even during a drought.

The beatings the boy had received from a sceptical parent turned into a tight hug from a believing and very grateful father. Even the school staff came to visit to inspect the windmill. Both Alex and I were taken aback - feeling rather aghast, really. This was a true story. It actually happened - an intelligent young black teenager and his incredible active, optimistic and reassuring mind, who can shame the so-called "civilised" minds of some English public school students. 

As the family was sliding into poverty and hunger, yet it took a bright teenager with an imaginative mind to turn around his family fortunes. Despite having formerly been expelled from school, he did end up at university - Dartmouth College in New Hampshire. What a contrast all this is to a report I read in today's Daily Mail.

The report, from two journalists, Paul Bracchi and Clara Gaspar, centres on two schoolgirls, Izzy Myatt, a former pupil of the James Allen School for Girls, and Georgina Edwards from the same school, who were both sexually harassed by the boys of the neighbouring Dulwich College, a prestigious public school. According to their testimonies, the frequency of such misogyny has normalised into a culture of its own which was kept under cover - that is - until the recent rape and murder of Sarah Everard after being abducted from Clapham Common by a Metropolitan police officer, Wayne Couzens. This had motivated many of the girls to bring into the light this kind of misogyny to the public's attention. The kind of harassment that had taken place among public schoolboys was not only at Dulwich College, but also at Latymer Upper School, St Pauls, Eton, and Westminster, among others.*

It is this type of misogynic culture which had made me look upon this glorious country with an element of embarrassment. Then to add the 1993 killing of Stephen Lawrence by a gang of white racist youths, along with the institutional racism among the Metropolitan Police dating as far back as the post-war Windrush generation entering the UK on June 22, 1948. With such imperialistic history associated with the UK which many an Englishman holds with pride, I find the concept of European Union membership an excellent idea, in a sense being one in a kind of international family.

The real William Kamkwamba

The same nation that dipped its hand into black profits during the slave years, denouncing the Negro to that of a mere animal, and then having the audacity to show African children how to dress smartly for school - wow! That beats me! Hence my sense of disappointment when William Kamkwamba, a son of a family of farmers, was shown the uniform for the first time. I know this is just me, and most likely alone in such thinking, I'll admit that.  But when considering that the tie was worn by the criminal fraternity. Ron and Reg Kray, for a start, of the notorious East London gangsters, wore suits and ties during their active career of crime. The killers of Stephen Lawrence wore ties as they walked from Court as acquitted men, due to a lack of evidence from the racial-motivated Met Police, who also wore ties. Then not to mention the Mafia and other corrupt business tycoons who normally wear ties.

Then you wonder why I thought that this Malawian teenager wearing an English-style school uniform would corrupt his innocent mind, hence my disappointment. Thank God it didn't!

Back in the early 1970s, I voted for the UK to enter what was then the European Common Market. The EU, which grew out of this, was meant for all nations - all 28 of them, to allow all trades to flourish easily between them, along with the ability to settle in any country within the EU. On top of this, the issuing of the EHIC medical card, allowing for free healthcare across Europe, had mitigated much anxiety over the possibility of falling ill while on holiday or business. Furthermore, the Schengen Agreement allowed a traveller to enter different countries without border checks. Thus, when we crossed into Belgium from France on the Eurostar in 2019, the train didn't even slow down. What a contrast to 1973-1975 when the train stopped for a long while at the French town of Modane for individual passport checks before crossing the border into Italy. Schengen has done away with such delays, but how unfortunate that the UK was never part of it.

And thus, with a closer tie to my ancestral Italian home, I have always been an ardent Remainer. And I get annoyed whenever I read the words, Remoaner, Remidiot, or Remainiac (although only the first word was commonly used.) And should I be surprised as such words were coined up by the smug Brexiteer whose gloat over the other side's loss would have been shamed by the likes of young Kamkwamba?

My crushing disappointment after the 2016 referendum was never allayed. Even at present, there's that lingering wish that we had stayed in the EU and carried on enjoying the benefits such membership would have offered. But it's more recently, with the present vaccine fiasco, that I'm wondering whether we had done the right thing to leave the European Union. Whether we would now benefit economically or not, or whether trade tariffs would get in the way at our ports, this is not the point. The Concept of EU membership, to me, is magnificent. Just as the idea of internal combustion is the best way to get a vehicle moving without involving horses or bulls. But if the car breaks down, you don't question the concept of the internal combustion system. Instead, you fix or replace the engine.

Three principal leaders have brought the whole of the EU into bad repute. Ursula von der Leyen, who is President of the EU since December 2019, along with German Chancellor Angela Merkel, and French President Emmanuel Macron, has each hesitated to allow the rollout to go full power while, at the same time, threatening the exportation of the vaccines into Britain, hence heightening the risk of a rise in infections over here while our own rollout slows down as a result.

I won't hesitate to admit that the UK had done extremely well with the vaccine rollout compared with the bloc. I think the main contribution to this was instead of hesitating, as the EU leaders did, we signed contracts with various companies for the import of vaccines as soon as the pandemic began, long before any vaccine was developed.

I'll be clear:

Due to a crisis in the vaccine rollout, voting to leave the EU in 2016 was the right thing to do.

But that doesn't make me a Brexiteer. It doesn't make me a patriot. It does not make me a Royalist or even a supporter of the Monarchy. It does not make me believe that the English are superior in nationality, race, moral, religious or civil ethics. It won't change my bloodline from Italian to English. Neither would I ever embrace the delusion that England is God's country (this claim is for Israel only.) Rather, I'm pointing the finger at the bad leadership under which the EU is suffering.

As I'm aware of the incorrigibility of the human heart, the presence of sin and the need for atonement, forgiveness, and reconciliation. Therefore, it's no surprise that such behaviour arises from these leaders - the feeling of jealousy, and envy towards Britain for first voting to leave the EU and then setting contracts in place while across the Channel, the leaders over there baulk over the safety of the vaccine and hesitate.

The dynamo used by Kamkwambo

However, instead of sitting smugly on our sofas and with arrogance, gloating over Europe's misfortune, perhaps we need to follow the example of William Kamkwamba and make efforts to assist Europe in the manufacture and distribution of the vaccines - and that done in compassion and gritty determination - even when faced with opposition. Together, we need to fight this virus and make efforts to save the lives of these Europeans, as they are too made in God's image, just as William Kamkwamba is made in God's image, as we are.

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*Daily Mail Newspaper, Saturday, March 27, pages 10-11.  

Thankfulness Arrives - After 63 Years!

Every weekday morning up to September 12th, 2015, or at least nearly every weekday morning throughout our then sixteen years of marriage, just before rising, I ask my sleeping wife in bed next to me: 

Would you like breakfast, dear? Or more realistically: Breakfast?

When she normally answers in the affirmative, often with a sleepy hum which tone I can interpret, I then utter a groan:

Doh! Another day to face! - As if such was another day on the battlefront, in prison, or attempting to teach, without much success, a class of rowdy and verbally abusive pupils while at the same time forbidden by law to keep a cane in my desk drawer, as many staff members did half a century earlier.  

No, it was none of these. Rather, as one self-employed and depending on my own initiative, and without a boss to tell me what to do, or to cover for me if anything goes pear-shaped, to set out to the street I'm currently working in to ensure that I return home that evening with enough cash in my bag to keep our stomachs full, to keep our bodies clothed, to keep a roof over us, and to satisfy all creditors.

A bowl of Malted Wheat for breakfast is ideal for both of us.

And so, a typical morning in the life of a window cleaner. Hoping for a smooth sail - or ride - whichever way you interpret, sometimes it won't be as I hoped. The bright sky allowing sunlight to stream through our bedroom window looks so inviting, thus, doubting the day's forecast. But soon, clouds gather and eventually, the heavens tip a heavy shower over our locality. Then the customer comes to the door with the announcement that she does not have her windows done during wet weather.

No payment coming from that house, then.

At another property, the front of the house had received a facelift with a sloping roof built beneath the two front bedroom windows. One way to reach them was to stand on the recently-wetted roof tiles and risk a slip and a fall to the ground - very much like the accident that occurred in September 1997, which was exactly what happened, fracturing my right shoulder and ribs, and also causing a small wound on the scalp which dyed the whole of my hair blood-red and puddled the concrete step where I landed. After five days in hospital, I had to take a further two months off work with my arm resting in a sling.

With further wrestling with the weather, it was business as usual. Whether we had rain, snow, fog, wind, or warm sunshine soaking my shirt with sweat, by the grace of God, I managed all 35 years of it. And this includes the unexpected - a client messing around whilst deliberately delaying payment or even giving me a bag full of pennies, losing customers due to the sale of their property, or being made redundant, a death of an elderly pensioner, or disputes - usually about payments - that can so unexpectedly arise. There was even one occasion when this thirty-year-old asked me to take a tight screw out of the wall of his property after struggling unsuccessfully with it. I climbed up his ladder and turned it without too much difficulty. But was he pleased? Rather, I became scum, a target for his expletives! Oh well, busting egos wasn't meant to be part of the job.

Then you wonder why I said back then, I have another day to face.

However, retirement wasn't all a sense of relief as I first anticipated. Rather, I was suddenly aware that I had just turned a page in my life book. More than that, a chapter ended and a new one begins. A chapter that is titled, 

A Pensioner.

A pensioner. Whenever I imagine a pensioner, I tend to visualise an elderly gentleman and grandfather with wrinkly skin and thinning white hair, stooping forward as he relies on the support of his walking stick, trembling as he slowly makes his way on his three legs. And now, I'm one - a pensioner. Yet this isn't a definition of a mere elderly gentleman. Rather, he is defined by his income - the money he receives to live on. The same money as a wage, salary, or even benefit, but this one with another name, the one which defines old age.

A pensioner I might be, simply because the income I receive is called a pension. But, thanks be to God, I bear no resemblance to the elderly gentleman I had described above. Instead, I could pass myself off as in my forties or fifties. I need to be. My current job is to love and look after my partially-disabled wife. Thus my need for regular exercise and sensible eating. I suppose there is no such thing as retirement in a true sense of the word, at least for the Christian. Rather, I merely changed jobs.

But this changing of jobs has brought a whole new dimension in my perception of life, and that is, to be thankful for each day God gives me. It's to be thankful for the appreciation of the finer things in life - the benefit to serve Christ in a way by giving to those in need, whether time, money or even both. And to appreciate God's mercy. And I'm talking here about the rollout of the vaccines for inoculating against the virus. 

Since I see the vaccine rollout as a wonderful act of God's mercy, I grieve when I hear about or read of some of the stuff put out by anti-vaxxers. I am aware of at least four people, all of them Christians, three of the four are women, one of them giving an almost convincing argument that this worldwide vaccination programme is the forerunner of the coming Antichrist, and therefore paving a way to receive the Mark of the Beast described in Revelation 13 - even though each jab has no resemblance to what is written in the Bible.

This kind of false news which anyone can write on Facebook can be frightfully convincing to anyone not fully acquainted with Holy Scripture. But the vision to get a vaccine out to combat Covid-19 as soon as possible was shared among middle-aged, professional women, rather than by men in suits.

Soon after the outbreak of the pandemic early in 2020, a 45-year old Cambridge graduate, Maddy McTernan, spent a night at her desk negotiating for contracts with firms such as Moderna, Novavax, Pfizer and AstraZeneca for millions of doses to be made and delivered to the UK before even one vial was produced. Sarah Gilbert, Teresa Lamb, Annette England, and Kate Bingham were the pioneers for the development of these vaccines which would, I hope, eventually free us from the grip of the pandemic.

And so, God's mercy works through these people and all the teams of scientists involved in developing such inoculations against the various strains of the pathogen. But instead of giving thanks and glory to God for such mercy shown, many, and Brexiteers in particular, began to act with aloofness against the EU, when a lack of proper coordination and fearmongering among its leaders has set the EU into a disadvantage when it comes to the vaccine rollout across the Continent.

As this arrogance begins to make itself felt, with Brexiteers going as far as laughing at Europe's misfortune, such statements appearing especially on Facebook, what I have found as a comforting rebuke, also on Facebook, is taken from Proverbs 24:17-18:

Do not gloat when the enemy falls; when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice, or the LORD will see and disapprove and turn his wrath away from him.

The trouble is, English Brexiteers has acted arrogantly against Europe and gloated over its failures. And such evil attitudes are also found among Christians, who should know better. This can make it difficult to fellowship with them. It takes a greater effort of the Holy Spirit at work within to stay friends with them, to do them good and to show hospitality. But as long as this gloating is kept up, sooner or later the tables will be turned. Although God is God, and his thoughts are higher than our thoughts, and his ways than our ways, it still may not be too difficult to fathom out what might happen in the future.

And that, the EU vaccine rollout will eventually accelerate until the disease is brought under control, alongside a growing economy among member nations following the end of the pandemic. In turn, although Britain might, by then, have brought the virus under control, its economy might suffer as a result of the new trade tariffs affecting imports and exports of goods, along with the dispute affecting the borders with Northern Ireland and the Irish Republic, and perhaps a further collapse of its interior economy in one way or another. And who can guarantee that The Troubles will never restart? Or be free from the threat of international terrorism? Indeed, with such fears, everything has always looked to be so fragile. 

And such fragility of emotions had reared its head again only this week when two presenters of BBC Breakfast, Naga Munchetty and Charlie Stayt, made a gag against Housing Secretary Robert Jenrick on the morning of Thursday, March 18th, 2021, regarding a British flag and a portrait of the Queen, both on display in his studio. I never watch these chat shows at all, as they tend to be a drag and boring, but I couldn't help take notice of the fuss surrounding this incident, right in the wake of the Meghan/Winfred scandal. Then, in today's edition of the Daily Mail, I read of Amanda Platell's tirade against the BBC as a whole for allowing these two to "lambaste" Jenrick.

The word "lambaste" is a pretty strong word to use for what was meant to be a lighthearted joke. But all this shows a fragile, eggshell culture of national insecurity. Platell goes on to say that there is no other country where its citizens poke fun or criticise the presence of its own flag.

Perhaps I can see what she means. Having visited both the USA and Australia, I saw that both take great pride in their flag. In the States, its Stars and Stripes flies from the flagstaff of every administrative building, while in Australia, the image of the Southern Cross Constellation with the British Union Jack at one corner reveals the pride the Aussies have in being one in the Commonwealth. I recall one morning when I stayed at a hostel at the Queensland resort of Hervey Bay, which is also the launching pad for ferries to nearby Frazer Island, the world's largest sandbank. It was here where I asked to cash a US$ Traveller's Cheque. I was almost to the point of being told off for daring to request for such transactions on the Queen's Birthday, which, Down Under, is a public holiday. Fortunately, I had my credit card at the time, which bailed me out from a sticky situation. Then my friends wonder why I'm sympathetic towards Republicanism!

It's so unfortunate that the English St George's Cross had been taken over by far-right extremists, who tend to fill football stadiums with their racist chanting against non-white players. Relegating black players to the level of monkeys is an insult as a direct result of Darwinism, itself having grown out of England's fertile soil.

Naga Munchetty

Being in such a state of mind on a national scale seems to have made any joke or comment against patriotism something of a threat to the nation's wellbeing, as did Meghan Markle's accusation of racism in the Royal Family. Just as Piers Morgan's loss of temper over that incident, so Munchetty's crack at Robert Jenrick's flag had rocked Amanda Platell's boat.

Perhaps 2 Chronicles 7:14 may provide a worthwhile piece of instruction for this sorrowful state of our nation: 

If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.

"My people" refers to the people of Israel who were under the reign of King Solomon. But this verse can be applied at present to the Church, itself a nation of born-again believers who are meant to be devoted to Jesus Christ. To my mind, the behaviour of some of these Christians, especially those who voted Leave, was and still is, appalling.  

Reading the Old Testament book of the prophet Daniel, chapter 9 and verses 4-19, provides an excellent template on what intercessory prayer for our nation should consist of. It is worth patterning our prayers to this template and with thanksgiving for God's goodness and mercy, bring our intercessory prayers to God with a sincere heart. 

A Real Earthquake or Imagined?

Spread out in front of me is the six-page Crisis at Palace special report, compiled by two Daily Mail journalists: Richard Kay and Guy Adams. Following these six pages are two more full pages taken up by a further two authors: Dominic Sandbrook, and the newspaper's editor, Geordie Greig. Of all four writers, Sandbrook's reassurance that the Firm will keep the UK flag flying despite the recent crisis brought on by Prince Harry and his wife, Meghan Markle, will be an encouraging read for many.

Generally speaking, the Special Report feature is a direct rebuke to Harry and Meghan, literally debunking every point brought up in their interview with Oprah Winfrey at their Californian home on Sunday of this week. But even before the broadcast went out across the UK on the evening of the next day, the media was awash with what was said during the interview, with a very high percentage of the UK population saying they will refuse, or can't be bothered, to watch it on television.

Harry and Meghan interviewed by Oprah Winfrey.

Even I had to admit that at first, I couldn't be bothered to watch an interview frequently broken by commercial breaks. Moreover, the Press kept on insisting that the programme will be up to two hours long, implying that the interview itself was of that duration. By Monday evening, after so much banter from the Media, I have decided to watch it, commercial breaks regardless. It lasted for less than two hours. Instead, the whole programme took between 105-110 minutes, but allowing for the series of commercial breaks and snippets of their past lives combined, my estimation was that the actual talk itself didn't take much more than an hour, maybe 75-80 minutes if a coffee break between the three was thrown in.

The next day, Tuesday, March 9th, something of a brawl developed between Piers Morgan, one of the presenters of ITV's Good Morning Britain, and fellow host, the weatherman Alex Beresford, who himself has mixed-race blood. And here is the crunch of the matter. Morgan bluntly called Meghan Markle a liar for her testimony over a conversation having taken place between her and an anonymous member of the Royal Family, concerning the colour of the unborn's skin whilst pregnant with Archie. This accusation of racism within the Royal Family had raised Morgan's temper while Beresford, in a rebuke, told him not to be so insulting. At that, Piers Morgan replied, I'm done here, and stormed out of the studio.

If there were any examples of sheer irony, then they surround the resignation of Piers Morgan from the Good Morning Britain chat show - and that was mainly from the readers of The Daily Mail newspaper. On the Online version of the article, there is a long forum of comments actually praising Morgan's accusation of Meghan's lying tactic. Here, he is seen as a national hero, a bulwark defending the institution of the Monarchy. But in the past, Piers Morgan was usually a constant target of ridicule, and whenever he posted an article in the newspaper, the forum column which followed it always contained expletives and harsh criticism.

And now, here is this eight-page spread defending the Firm and thoroughly debunking Markle's accusations, especially the one about racism within the institution. Throughout the week, not a single day had passed without the Media giving it a rest. I'm wondering why - why such an outcry? Did the interview really pose a threat of accusation against the Family? Personally speaking, I doubt it very much. It isn't a real earthquake, only an imaginary one.

Did Harry and Meghan lie? To be honest, I don't know. But if she did lie, then why would she do such a thing? What would they gain from denouncing the Firm and bringing it into disrepute? But again, if she was telling the truth and an accusation of racism was aimed at her and her offspring, what benefit would she had gained in such a public interview? National sympathy? Instead, all had backfired on her, with more than 50% of the population doubting her testimonies. According to a poll, the majority of those who supported Markle were in their twenties age group, whilst the majority of those who doubted her were from the older age group. Similarly, those who favour Republicanism, up to 30% of the UK population, were mostly from those under 30 years of age.

Although such reporting looks to every reader to be an honest refutation of all of Meghan's remarks made in the interview, I can also point out that there were times when the Daily Mail had not been thoroughly honest, especially when reporting about Brexit. I'm referring to an article written by one of their columnists, Stephen Glover, on April 13th, 2017. It was an attempt to refute novelist Julian Barnes' report and publication of the murder of Labour MP and Remainer, Joe Cox, by a right-wing maniac and Brexiteer, Thomas Lair. The killing itself took place on June 16th, 2016. The conviction of Thomas Lair took place at the Old Bailey on November 23rd, 2016, more than five months after the murder. Julian Barnes recorded the events very accurately. But the Vote-Leave Daily Mail columnist tampered with his words, thus making out that Remainer Julian Barnes' source to be inaccurate and misleading.*

Writer and novelist Julian Barnes.

But I shouldn't have been surprised at this. Back in April 2017, the editor of the Daily Mail newspaper was Paul Dacre, a devout Brexiteer, and one who had a big influence towards the swaying of the national vote for Brexit. Yet another irony - the newspaper itself is owned by Lord Jonathan Harmsworth, 4th Viscount Rothermere who, I believe, voted to remain in the EU. The present editor, Geordie Greig, who took over Dacre's post in September 2018, is also reputed to be a Remainer.

This outcry against Meghan Markle's accusation against racism in the Royal Family, I find astonishing! But it shouldn't come as a surprise. Especially that we have a female monarch, one whose been on the throne since 1952, and loved and adored by the majority. What I find interesting is that had the monarch been male - a king rather than queen, would the national outcry and media reporting be just as intense?

This reminds me of an incident that took place on April 9th, 1989. In the House of Parliament, the opposition leader, Neil Kinnock, took a swipe at then Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher by calling out "Immaculate Misconception" and "The Assumption of the Blessed Margaret." The Catholic Church was in an uproar! Bishop Alan Clark of East Anglia wrote to the opposition leader describing how offensive the remark was to Catholics in regards to Mary, and that letter was backed up by one written by Cardinal Hume as a sharp rebuke to Neil Kinnock, emphasising the seriousness of the insult in regards to their Mediatrix.**

The way I see it, the emotional reaction between the Catholic Church to Mary, when compared with Piers Morgan's storming off from the studio, looks to be remarkably similar. Mary is the mediatrix, or an intercessor, between the Catholic and Jesus Christ. Our present Queen's status as Head of the Church of England was handed down from King Henry VIII, who proclaimed himself as Head of the Anglican Church after his request to Pope Clement VII to divorce his first wife, Catherine of Aragon was refused.

Thus, it could be implied that our Queen holds the same status as the Pope - to intercede on behalf of the nation and its Church, to God. I'm even wondering whether our female monarch has, in a way, replaced the Virgin Mary as an intercessor - even if only in the subconscious - and therefore perceive her as a kind of saviour-god, and therefore resulting in greater emotional intensity when challenged than if our monarch had been a king.

This drawing towards a female deity to intercede on our behalf has always been perfectly natural. The want of motherly comfort when faced with discipline from a strict and unaffectionate father - it's no surprise that the Catholic Church has far more shrines dedicated to Mary than to Jesus, and more prayers are offered to Mary than to Jesus Christ. The following is one typical Catholic prayer offered up:

Immaculate Heart of Mary, whose love for us is so ill-requited, I offer and consecrate myself to you forever to make some return, as far as in me lies, for your maternal tenderness and to make up for the wrongs inflicted on you by so many ungrateful children. Deign to accept this humble but sincere offering. My soul, my body, my life are yours, and since I belong entirely to you, defend me and protect me as one who is all your own.***

This expression to Mary as a maternal deity is not new. The Muslims honours Fatima, the daughter of Mohammed. Back in Roman times, Artemis and her son Horus was deified. The Greeks worshipped their goddess Diana. Ancient Persia had Ahurani. In turn, the Babylonians had Semiramis, the wife of Nimrod, the Assyrians worshipped Astarte and the ancient Egyptians had their goddess, Isis. History seems to indicate that a mother-goddess is a suitable, more intimate intercessor between the worshipper and heaven than a stricter male entity obsessed with discipline and punishment.

Nevertheless, ancient kings such as the Egyptian Pharaohs and Roman emperors were deified, which called for the building of Egyptian pyramids for their tombs. When the ancient Egyptians realised that their kings were not gods after all but mere mortals, the pyramids were exchanged for mere holes in the ground. There were many such insignificant graves in the Valley of the Kings. In turn, the imperial obligation to honour Caesar as God has put many early Christians in deep trouble for insisting that their Saviour Jesus Christ as Lord above the Emperor.

Egyptian Pyramids - Pharaohs seen as gods.

Personally, I have no issue with the Queen, her sons or her grandchildren. Rather, as I see her, with the majority of Englishmen, she stands for long-term religious, political, economic and sovereign security and stability. Even though I, or anyone else, may actually not see her as directly interceding to God, in a sense she is. Not for nothing that our National Anthem begins with God Save our Gracious Queen, at least in a way that she provides a sense of intercessional security, nationwide salvation. At least that's what I think. And under this sense of national stability, the true Gospel can spread.

It's my opinion that there is no need to panic over the interview between Harry, Meghan and Oprah in any accusation made against Royalty. The Palace will ensure that all members of the royal household will come out of this crisis in good form, and everything will then be fine.

If this interview is seen as an earthquake shaking the Royal Family from the roots, it isn't. Instead, it's only an imaginary earthquake. It will pass...

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 *For my blog from the archives, which covers this issue in greater detail, click here.

**Michael de Semlyen, All Roads Lead to Rome? 1991 Dorchester House Publishers, page 55. 

***Rev Robert Nisbet, But the Bible Does Not Say So, 1958, 1966, Church Book Room Press.

The Allegory of the Two Canteens.

It was one of those days when I had mixed feelings after returning to work after a month-long holiday. There I stood by my machine, a large precision metal-grinding lathe. As the front axle for a yet-to-be-built aeroplane was rotating on its spindle, my job was to transform the dull chrome coating of the exterior to a beautifully-polished mirror-like finish, yet keeping with the precise measurements specified in the drawing printed on the sheet dangling over the tool locker located next to the powerful machine.

The machine I worked on looked similar to this

It felt strange being back in such familiar surroundings once again. I looked up towards the ceiling, just to straighten my back a little. The roar of a crane passing overhead, running on railway lines fixed close to the inside of the roof, all the way from one end of the huge building to the other. The driver in the crane's cab stops his vehicle directly above a neighbouring machine and lowers the hook to be attached to a huge section of an aircraft to be lifted away from the milling machine, that particular stage of its construction completed.

Presently, two other workers, young men about my age, were passing through the workshop to go somewhere. One of them paused to take a good look at me as if thoroughly examining who I was. Then both approached, and asked,

Did you walk the streets of New Orleans French Quarter a few weeks ago?

I was stunned by their question and answered in the affirmative.

The two then explained that they too had taken a trip to the States at the same time as I did, and they too had travelled across the North American continent on the Greyhound bus in the same way as I did, using the same Go-As-You-Please Ameripass ticket, which was in those days in the form of a book of vouchers, each one valid for each stage of the journey. 

With some astonishment, the same one asked if I went all the way there on my own, which I answered that yes, I went on my own which was, for me, the normal manner of travel, whether near or far.

By heck, you're brave!

Brave? A rather unusual compliment, no doubt, but I felt exhilarated by their praise, nevertheless. But having already backpacked Italy, Israel, and lately, North America a year earlier in 1977, this second transatlantic trip completed in 1978 shouldn't, in my view, be classed as brave. Rather, I was just being myself.

Then again, perhaps to some, there may be a degree of bravery needed whilst stopping at New Orleans. After alighting from the Greyhound Bus at the end of a journey from San Antonio in Texas, I found a room at the YMCA in the new town area, a short walk from the French Quarter. At the communal showers, whilst freshening up after a long journey, an older man sat at a nearby bench, gazing lecherously at my groin. This sort of thing can be quite frequent during my 1970s travels, nevertheless, I still wouldn't classify such an experience as bravery, even if I felt uncomfortable in his presence.

But going back to the job at hand. There is something so satisfying in my role on the lathe. Especially on a part of an aeroplane, in this case, the front wheel axle. Such was a way to earn a living at British Aircraft Corporation, later changed to British Aerospace, due to its coupling up with the missile division of the same company, located in other areas of the UK. This was not long before I had to move on.

There was something about the shop-floor environment in which the unusual could happen. Like the time when a fellow worker, Martin by name, was transferred from the Apprentice Department, where small parts such as door handles and toilet seat hinges were made, to the adjoining milling department where much larger parts were worked on. He had a dislike for me, thinking that I might be gay. And he didn't keep quiet about that either. Therefore, a rumour about me was well known across the shop floor.

One afternoon, Martin had a huge, solid steel girder set up on his machine. Suddenly, the girder swung, flying off his machine and pinning him to the floor. The accompanying noise caught my attention. As I turned, I saw him gazing helplessly at me as he went down under the weight of the girder.

Others who watched the incident all burst out laughing. Nobody came to his assistance. Instead, they all kept on laughing at this lad's misfortune, perhaps seeing this as an entertaining distraction from the monotony of the day. But immediately, I went over and lifted one end of the long girder, allowing him to crawl out from underneath. Together, standing at each end, we lifted it back into place while he instructed me to hold it in place while he secured it. The laughter stopped. Martin restarted his rotary milling cutting blade while I returned to my own machine.

Whether it was the look of shock I had when I saw him go down or not, however, a new friendship was created. It was Martin who invited me into the firm's clubhouse and there he bought me a drink - in front of all his mates who held a bad reputation against me. They were all quiet, gazing at me as if feeling ashamed. This Biblical exhortation to "pour hot coals on the enemy's head" seems to have taken effect.

I saw Martin again sometime later. After several months, I could see the result of his prolonged unfulfillment in his life. His once-superb physique had ballooned out to a beer belly at still a young age.

New Orleans French Quarter. Visited 1978.

British Aerospace Works, at the Surrey town of Weybridge, was extensive during its heyday, with several buildings on the one site, which was a former motor racing track. That means, there were many office staff among us, housed in on-site office buildings. We all, in our department, had a locker assigned to each one of us, each containing a blue protective overall we had to wear during the working hours, hence the term, blue-collar workers. By contrast, the office staff came in dressed in a suit, shirt, and many (but not all) wearing a tie. As I have seen in the past, it was not difficult to tell those who excelled at school from those who didn't. 

What I had observed was that those at their desks were generally slimmer, more fitter and of athletic build than those who wore the blue overall. One office staff member, Trevor Thomas, was a Tug O' War champion whose image appeared in the 1979 edition of The Guinness Book of Records for winning three medals for England in the European Open Championships. When Thomas and I sat at the same dinner table one lunch hour, he asked me whether I recognised him from the famous book. When I answered that I didn't, his face dropped. Then, after pulling himself together, he explained to me the ins and outs of Tug O' War, and he also invited me to partake in the family tug to be held nearby, a few weeks later.

I didn't take part in the tug. By then, I already knew that from our chat at the dinner table, Thomas wanted the satisfaction to defeat me. A little unfair to say the least! A champion versus a first-time novice? However, on the day, his White-C team did win against our Blue-C team. Quite easily. From that day on, he seemed to have had a huff against me for not participating. 

By contrast, Martin was the symbolic representation of many who earned their keep on the shop floor. Here, there were several fatties around, especially from middle-age upwards. Moreover, Mr Thomas was ten years my senior. In turn, Martin was four or five years my junior. But the level of fitness between the two couldn't be more contrasting.

During its earlier days, there were two canteens, each exclusive from the other. One of them housed a series of vending machines and tables for the blue-collar to bring their own packed lunches. The other was for the office staff. It had a fully-equipped kitchen from where its staff dished out hot meals. There was a time when no blue-collar was allowed to enter white-collar territory!

Thanks to the trade unions, that had already changed shortly before my arrival. The result of this casual mixing was that I made friends with a few of the office staff members, with some easily intrigued by my sharing of the Gospel. I also picked up a hint that one or two of them became jealous of my venture across the Atlantic - and even showed hostility.

It was this class division - so symbolised by two separate canteens in one building - that I made every effort to cross and then bridge the social chasm. But then, if I rightly remember, I was the only employee of the entire company who had made an effort to bridge the two classes. None of my work colleagues did, and neither any from the other side made any conscious efforts either.

My strong conviction that the Bible is true stems from verses such a Galatians 3:28:

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are one in Christ Jesus.

It's in this same letter where Paul writes about the sharp rebuke he had delivered to Peter, recorded in Galatians 2:11-14. Here, Peter - from a Jewish background - along with Barnabas, was eating with some Greek believers. Soon a group of Jewish Christians arrived. When Peter saw them coming, he and Barnabas immediately withdrew from the Greek company. It was then when Paul rebuked him in front of them all.

How much this reality is still needed in churches to this day! According to one newspaper article,* those without an adequate level of education tend to suffer greater distress and from greater uncertainty of the future. Alongside this, such favouritism given to those with higher education and higher social status, according to the article, not only makes those who failed at school feel inferior and maybe useless as well, leading to higher anxiety levels and subject to greater illnesses - but also does not demonstrate the power of God.

How I looked in 1978.

Most of my church life, all of 47 years of it, consist of middle-class culture. Unlike Peter, no Christian I have ever known had deliberately separated from me whenever I walked in. Rather, it's liable to occur in the subconscious - that classic lack of a greeting whenever I walk in, but with no hostility. And now, with the latest technology, there are some middle-class Christians of my generation who refuse to connect with me on Facebook. Also, on that same social website, if one grad posts a photo of himself or with his wife and family, he could collect as many as a hundred "Likes." But if I, a not-so-good-looking or insignificant person were to post a similar photo, we'll be lucky to reach into a double-figure number.

I guess here in the UK, the blue-collar and the white-collar canteens may both reside in the same building, but the wall separating them will never have a door in it.

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*The Guardian Online, 05/03/2021.