We're Fools in the Eyes of Journalists!

August Bank Holiday weekend once again here in England and Wales (but not in Scotland.) Soon schools will re-open, their pupils will don their uniforms and return to their desks. Many theme parks will either restrict their opening hours or close down for the winter. Surely, with all this talk about climate change, should we all be glad and thankful that we had no real heatwave, instead, plenty of rain and lacking sunshine?

Man out, rain. Woman out, sunshine.

At least we didn't suffer the severe heatwave which affected the Mediterranean lands. And so I read: Sicily hit 45C earlier in the month. Not quite sauna temperature but uncomfortable enough to make a beeline to the sea and enjoy a swim in the refreshing turquoise waters. Also, at 45C, 113F, sunstroke can be dangerous, if not fatal. Or the excess drinking of freshwater, diluting the bloodstream to the extent of severe contraction of the muscles to bring about intense painful cramps, an ailment that is known as hyponatremia. A cup of electrolyte drink plays a vital role in coming out from this potentially fatal condition, as the salts in the bloodstream are restored to an acceptable level.

Oh well, there's no need to worry about any of that in the UK this summer. Neither, for that matter, did I feel much concern over forest fires. That's when a prolonged period of drought turns the land into tinderbox dryness, that state of dehydration where it takes only a spark from a portable barbecue or a carelessly discarded glowing cigarette butt to set the whole forest on fire.

This is serious stuff! Where we live, there is a pine forest just literally across the road. Should there be a fire there, we would have nowhere to go to escape the smoky fog lingering in the air. With the health of both of us below parr, breathing in smoke would have been seriously harmful. And so I ponder, after the Met Office forecasting another day of cloud cover accompanied by a chilly northerly breeze - right in the middle of August - I can't help feeling relief that whilst the Sicilian temperatures touched 45C, we were fortunate not to get above 24C, which is the average level for the time of the year in the UK.

Therefore, I grimaced when I read The Daily Mail online the headline, Temperatures set to soar to 71F for the Bank Holiday Weekend. I was able to see straight away how misleading that headline was! Why do these journalists take us for fools? At first glance, a figure such as 71F does look impressive to the unwary. But I wasn't at all impressed. The Celcius equivalent of 71 degrees Fahrenheit is 21.6 degrees. Not all that warm at all, and slightly below average for this time of year.

Furthermore, the present standard scale for measuring temperature in the UK is the Celcius scale, and it's no longer the Fahrenheit scale. For many years, the BBC has always forecasted the weather using the Celcius scale. And it's also easier to understand. For example, it's easier to understand that the freezing point of water on the Celcius scale is 0 degrees, compared with 32 degrees on Fahrenheit. Likewise, the boiling point of water is 100 degrees on Celcius and 212 degrees on Fahrenheit. Yet the Daily Mail still insist on using the Fahrenheit scale.

For the unwary, 71F looks impressive at a glance. But, judging by the long forum column trailing the article, the public was far from fooled. Rather, many commenters rebuked the newspaper for their deceit by using Fahrenheit. 

The Daily Mail upholds the Conservative Party, and it's also a Brexit-supporting newspaper that has one of the widest circulations in the UK. Taking these two factors into account, there is a preference among its journalists to use the Imperialistic measure rather than the European Metric. Hence, the use of Fahrenheit is seen as so British, according to The Daily Mail, and their use of the scale is part of preserving our English heritage hence, enhancing its own popularity and sales. Oh, the irony! According to the Internet, Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit (1686-1736) was actually born in Gdansk in what is now Poland. He was still a child when his family moved to the Dutch Republic, that is, the Netherlands today. He developed the temperature scale whilst living and studying in the Netherlands and has nothing to do with English origins. Indeed, the Fahrenheit scale for measuring temperature is more European than British.

Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit.

But I wonder how patronising these journalists can be as they hide behind the image. Do they really take us for fools? Do they think we're that gullible? As a senior citizen, it may come as a surprise that I have never become that familiar with the Fahrenheit scale. Instead, I quickly took on a favour for the Celcius. Yet, I can still discern that 71F is not that warm - without being all that familiar with it.

I guess 71F has a greater impact than 21C. With the higher figure, it gives more of an impression of a heatwave. And so the public takes the newspaper to task. And then climb into their cars and head for the coast. Traffic jams build up as if there is no tomorrow, whilst the trains are packed as they also head towards coastal resorts. Not because it's going to be warm, but rather, they also know that it won't rain either.

No insult to my PhD friend Andrew, who at this moment is on holiday in Cornwall with another friend. I hope they are enjoying themselves and that the weather will be favourable. Nevertheless, I'm aware it won't be that warm.

And so, the media keeps on pumping out climate change and how our planet is doomed if nothing is done about it. If someone asks me whether I believe in the changing climate, I would admit that my knowledge of it is rather small, perhaps too little to give a dogmatic opinion. It's rather like the Coronavirus pandemic. One group of scientists support lockdowns, mask-wearing, social distancing and greater restrictions, while the opposing party insists that this imposing of greater restrictions are of little value, as the infection rate rises and falls on a constant roller-coaster, as if oblivious to any action we're taking against it. Here in the UK, at present, the infection rate is rising again, but the rate of hospitalisations and deaths remain comparatively static compared with previous waves. Is the vaccine rollout successful after all?

I find it frustrating that at each evening news bulletin, a graph is presented showing a climb of infection numbers along with the rate of hospital admissions and deaths. I have noticed that The Daily Mail gives the same statistics, which appear online shortly before the BBC delivers its report. But what the media doesn't detail is who the patients are. The elderly? The younger ones? Those who are vaccinated or mostly the unvaccinated? Is the lifting of restrictions the real cause of the rise in infections? And what is the recovery rate? And so, there are more questions than answers as the general beliefs of the population drift on without proper direction like a boat that had lost its oars. And as usual, if there's the slightest hint of the possibility of a new variant, then you can guarantee that the newspaper will have the headline high on its priorities.

I have a feeling that the media is more certain about climate change. But what I find irritating, yes, downright annoying. Tacked on towards the end of interesting nature documentaries is a lecture on climate change delivered by the presenter. David Attenborough of the BBC is a classic case. During the bulk of the programme, for example, he makes a thoroughly enjoyable presentation of the wildlife inhabiting the Amazon forests of Brazil, or the marine life at the Great Barrier Reef. Such presentations are so well made, it makes me feel that I'm actually there, filming with the camera.

Then, as the programme draws to a close, we are reminded of the devastation we wicked humans are doing to our planet. For example, the cutting down of trees covering hundreds of acres of the Amazon forest to make way for palm oil crops. Eventually, there will be a change of climate over South America, with less rainfall and oxygen output. All because the President of Brazil wants the economy of his country to prosper with private companies turning the forest into agricultural land and thus, making profits. Indeed, since our lives depend on products made with palm oil, all of this makes me feel somewhat guilty of such a heinous crime, and at the same time, feeling totally powerless to do anything about it.

Or, by boarding a flight for a holiday, I contribute towards the bleaching of our ocean's coral reefs, Another guilt trip. Do we look like fools in the eyes of journalists?

Personally, I believe something is happening to our planet at present. Polar ice caps are melting, so we're told. We are also told that the oceans are getting warmer, posing a threat to the coral reefs and other marine life. Yet, year in, year out, our British climate had remained stable. Or at least that's the way I see it. Generally, it's cold in the winter and warm in the summer. The rate of rainfall has remained stable. After all, 1976 was the driest year on record. After 45 years, the record still stands. And this year alone, we had some hefty rainfall. Isn't it amazing that whenever we have a heatwave, we Brits cry out that the planet is getting hotter? And in the winter, should a flurry of snow was to fall, then all roads become skidpans, all train services disrupted, and the threat of another Ice Age is on the cards!

Coral at the Great Barrier Reef, taken 1997.

Oh, the eccentricity of us Brits! Yes, tell us that the weekend temperature is going to soar. A promised heatwave. Run to the beach. Make our way to the parks. Enjoy a day out by the riverside. Row a boat on the lake. Let's enjoy the outdoors. There's going to be a heatwave. Ice cream sales galore.

Hold on. What will be the temperature this weekend? 71 degrees Fahrenheit!. Wow! That looks to be hot! Hold on, just what is that in Celcius? 21 degrees. What? Just 21 degrees Celcius? Never mind the ice cream and the swimsuit. It's time to get the woollies out. Especially if there's a polar breeze blowing.

We have been truly had by the newspapers!

Wonderful Therapies During a Crisis.

As I sat at Starbucks this morning with a cappuccino, a croissant and The Daily Mail newspaper - all in a traditional Saturday morning ritual, and an Asian young man sitting at the table next to mine with a laptop, and just a few metres away, a group of thirty-something women laughing during a hearty conversation. I find it rather amazing that a coffee bar can bring the best out of people, despite that my beloved is on her way, by taxi, to the hospital to have a new catheter fitted, and my own spirit grieving over the fate of those stranded at Hamid Karzai Airport of Afghanistan's capital, Kabul.

While I could help but feel the oppressive air around me, caused by the endless news bulletins covering Afghanistan and the distress felt over those who are stranded there, together with my wife's poor health and her recent hospital visits, I have found one sliver of hope which has wonderful therapeutic benefits to both mind and soul alike: to recognise the sovereignty of God and to thank Him for the good things we have the freedom to enjoy.

Britain, being an island, is very different to landlocked Afghanistan. At least, despite our appalling climate, there is always the trip to the seaside. Whilst stuck in a traffic jam stretching several miles along the road, difficult - and expensive - parking facilities, or rather the lack of them, bored children aggravating their parents as the car in front refusing to budge forward a few inches, and the prospect of the blue sea lapping gently over a sandy beach being so alluring, many a family is prepared to take the risk of being stuck in traffic for several hours - even if Dad finds damp sand clinging between his toes so irritating.

If an Afghan family wishes to visit the coast, they must first cross into Pakistan - if they can do that with ease, as far as I'm aware, Pakistan doesn't support the Taliban. But even with a safe entry into the neighbouring country, it would be a long drive to get to the Gulf of Omar coastline, around 16 hours by car, covering 1,226 km, 757 miles, from the Afghan border at Chaman. And that if there is no traffic congestion.

 

According to Taliban custom, everything associated with entertainment is banned. Music is banned, along with owning and playing of all instruments, so is television, the VCR, ariel dishes, the cinema, theatre, the internet, watching or playing football or any other sport, kite-flying - a popular pastime among children - is also banned, as with having pictures, toys and models of all animals. Women are denied any education, and they must only leave their homes wearing a full-face burka and accompanied by a male chaperon related to her (eg, husband or brother.) Little wonder there are many trying to flee!

As I sat at the table, I was looking back on how I felt towards God. And I couldn't help feeling a degree of anger towards Him! Especially about my wife's poor health caused by a side-effect brought about by her daily medication. My mind was racing with one question after another, basically, Why? Why are we having such negative experiences while there are other Christian believers living life to the full? As I pondered on these thoughts, I began to realise how blessed we really are. Especially as I turned the pages of the newspaper and arrived at the page featuring Covid. Then I remembered.

At the start of the pandemic in March last year, I stood on a boardwalk near my home and cried out to God for us not to be affected by the virus. Seventeen months later my prayer remains apparently answered, even if my wife had it for a few days last summer before her immune system freed her from further infection. Her recovery was swift. Whether I was affected by the virus, I will never know. But this was something to thank God for, our safekeeping during the pandemic. So far. Even though we're both fully vaccinated, I refuse to sit on our laurels. We could still be struck down.

And I'm so thankful that we live in a land of democracy and freedom. And despite the lockdown, our freedoms remain enviable if compared with living under a Taliban regime. Indeed, during the first lockdown, someone may be fined for enjoying a flask of tea outdoors or taking a dog out for a walk in a large, deserted park. But at least nobody received floggings for such "offences". Add to that, the restrictions were temporary. Furthermore, we still enjoyed a greater level of liberty than Australia or New Zealand - thanks to our successful vaccination rollout.

Australia. I have backpacked through this wonderful country in 1997 for nearly six weeks. The trip included snorkelling at the Great Barrier Reef and hiking through the Blue Mountains National Park. Yet, I now thank the Lord I don't live there, despite wishing otherwise earlier. The lockdown restrictions imposed during the pandemic wasn't that far off from the restrictions imposed by a Taliban State. For example, facemasks were mandatory outdoors, with fines handed out to anyone out and about without one. And what I have heard, it took just one infected arrival to New Zealand from Sydney to shut down the whole of the country. Yet despite such draconian measures, the number of infections is growing, albeit slowly. As Sweden taught us, the virus is here to stay. The pathogen cannot be eliminated. It's here to stay. We just have to live with it.

I thank the Lord for the brilliance of both the British and European scientists for their rapid development of the AstraZeneca and the Pfizer vaccines. As such, we have regained much of our freedoms. As an anti-masker, I feel relief that here in the UK, those wretched "face nappies" are no longer mandatory in many places, but I still carry one when out and about should I be asked to wear it.

Further thoughts passed through my mind as I sat at that table. How is it that by living in the West, I have a better chance of hearing the Gospel and believing than one born in the Middle East, especially in a Muslim country? This, to me, is not only grossly unfair, but it's also practically insane. A baby born in a "Christian country" and with a church found in every town and plenty in larger cities, there is a good chance that the child will hear the Gospel. But where Islam dominates, if ever the Gospel is announced, the preacher is likely to face execution. The child growing up hearing the Gospel in an Islamic State is nigh impossible.

A Mosque in Afghanistan.

All this makes me wonder why God allows such a scenario - that your eternal destiny is determined by where you were born? That if you believe that the Bible says that faith in Jesus Christ is the only way to Heaven after death (John 14:6, Acts 4:12.) Then I think about one poor Afghan who was so terrified of the Taliban takeover of his beloved homeland, that he tried to escape by clutching at the wheels of a US Force plane as it was taking off from Hamid Karzai Airport - only for his remains to be discovered after landing at Kuwait. He was only nineteen years old, a very handsome young Muslim and a promising footballer. His fear of the Taliban ending his potential career in professional football and his liberties was too much for him, thus putting his own life at risk. A lost eternity? So much for being born in an Islamic State.

However, that does not deter me from grieving over my own countrymen. Although a third of our population claim to be Christian, the majority are either agnostic or atheist. Among the Christian claims, the greater majority are nominal. That is, they don't attend church regularly but only for Christenings, weddings, funerals and Christmas. As for the atheist's way of thinking, they tend to lump all religions as one anti-science nonsense, including Young-Earth Creationism. I fear that the takeover of a State by the Taliban and then imposing draconian restrictions will have a bad influence on Christianity in the atheist's eyes. After all, Muslims acknowledge Jesus Christ having once lived. Only that they believe he wasn't even crucified, let alone rising from the dead.

The average atheist, and perhaps many Christians too, are unlikely to be aware that the Christian faith and Islam does not lead to the same God, as the Vatican insist. Allah is not the triune God of Israel or of the Bible. The God we worship as Christians are in three Persons: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. By contrast, Allah is a single entity that has no son. Rather, Allah represents the moon god, and this becomes evident, as seen above every mosque. The symbol on the roof of each mosque is always shaped like the crescent moon, and the symbol is also found on some Islamic flags. These include Algeria, Comoros, Pakistan, Maldives, Tunisia, Malaysia, and a few others, but neither on Afghan nor the Taliban flags.

The founder of Islam was the prophet, Mohammed. His bones are with us, buried in the city of Medina in Saudi Arabia. The founder of the Christian faith is Jesus Christ. Mohammed died a natural death and did not atone for our sins. Jesus Christ was crucified as a criminal specifically to atone for our sins. He was then buried, as Mohammed was, but three days later, Jesus rose physically from the dead - the first person ever in human history to do so - whilst Mohammed remains in his grave to this day. Hence the difference between Christianity and Islam is so wide, it could be considered poles apart. Jesus Christ rose from the dead. No other religious founder had achieved that. 

Oh, the ugliness of the Crucifixion and the beauty of the Resurrection! I love to say that after His Resurrection, Jesus Christ has two bodies. He took one with Him to Heaven, leaving the other behind. Hence my thanksgiving for all the good things God has given us. Thinking of all my travel experiences - memories I treasure - and the lovely wife I now have...

Thank you, Lord.

Giving thanks to God for his goodness - even if everything looks to be so dire - is good therapy. Maybe this psychological therapy was well recognised by the apostle Paul. He wrote on many occasions to always give thanks to God throughout the New Testament. And that applies specifically to people like me. My natural temperament tends to be pessimistic and prone to fear of the unknown, anxiety, the feeling of uncertainty and depression. Recognising God for who He is and counting my blessings and acknowledging God's goodness are all good antidotes to these negative emotions.

The crescent moon topping every mosque. 

And church fellowship. One of the greatest benefits I missed during the pandemic was face-to-face contact with other Christians, the moral support gained when the chips are down, the greetings and hugs, and the one-to-one talk with another believer over coffee. And now we have the technology. Through Zoom, I find the weekday morning prayers a great benefit. And also through Facebook. However, with Facebook, there are several Christians who refuse to be "friends" with me. And some of these folk I knew personally as far back as the late seventies.

One, in particular, arrived at our church from University around 1978 or 79. By around 1981 or 1982, he then took on a mortgage for a property not far from where I lived, and he also took in two graduate lodgers whose incomes helped sustain his mortgage. When I played squash each week with one of his tenants, he took me to this grad's home for toast and coffee. We teased each other in good spirits. There was never any animosity between us. Instead, laughter abounded as well as some more serious discussions. As far as I'm aware and my memory allows, I had never intended to cause any offence.

Earlier in the week, I was browsing Facebook, and I came across his friendship seeking list. When I clicked onto his profile, I saw included in his photos one of the Grand Canyon. This inspired me to ask for his "friendship" having known him for over forty years. No response. I then checked his response on his profile before writing this blog. Not only was I rejected, but the Friend Request prompt was deleted. It was paramount to being blocked.

He is not alone. I have known several grads within my age margin who has taken the same attitude, all of them I've known for decades. I just don't understand why. I prefer to know. Like this, I can make appropriate amends if necessity calls for them.

These are very critical days. With my beloved, and myself too, under the constant eye of the NHS, along with the Taliban bringing all faith into disrepute, including and perhaps, especially the Christian faith, it's time for brotherly love, support and friendship to take a stand.

Hiking Experience Versus University.

Facebook can be either a spiritual edifier or a psychological destroyer! Either to make the browser feel good about himself from numerous responses of "likes" - or the social site can make him feel negative about himself. In my case, whenever I post photos of places I had visited, or of us as a couple, I would be lucky if I get more than a dozen "likes". But if another couple were to appear on the site - especially the middle class and both well-educated, such a post can collect hundreds of "likes" along with a thread of complimentary comments trailing the photograph.

However, how surprised I must have felt when I posted just three scenic photos! As this is written, more than 1.5k likes were assigned to my poster. This makes the poster having the highest number of "likes" attained of all time.

As such, why? What's so special about this particular entry is that it can collect more than 125 times the number of "likes" than my average entry? Simply this. Those three pics are shared among members of like-interest, The American Southwest Group. Their general response is, Yea! I've been there. I recognise that location! Hence the high popularity.

I have reposted these three here on this blog. Being my own photos which I took myself, whilst at the location as far as I'm aware, there's no breach of copyright.

Facing downstream at Bright Angel Creek. Taken 1995.

The name "Bright Angel Creek" is also given to the side canyon within the creek flows to the main Colorado River, and also where the North Kaibab Trail snakes along from Phantom Ranch to the North Rim. The ranch is a cluster of huts, each containing several beds, where I spent the night in 1978, and again in 1995. Lining the creek are rows of Cottonwood Trees, along with other shrubs. As the whole of the Grand Canyon National Park is defined as a desert, the waterway certainly provides an oasis of vegetation lining its banks. This brings to my mind, Jeremiah 17:7-8, where the Old Testament prophet writes that anyone who trusts in God is like a tree planted by the water and sends its roots by the stream, and will never suffer from the drought but remains fruitful throughout.

One of the other two pics is of the Colorado River flowing through the Grand Canyon. Taken from what's properly called Riverside Trail, it's the extension of Bright Angel Trail that snakes from the South Rim, with its trailhead at Grand Canyon Village itself. The scene is dominated by Zoroaster Temple Butte, the limestone pinnacle resting on sandstone "shoulders" and looks down at the river, with Brahmans Temple Butte next to it. The trail crosses Silver Bridge (the one nearer the camera) to join the South Kaibab Trail on the approach to Phantom Ranch. The trail continues on as the North Kaibab Trail - eventually arriving at the North Rim, hence the whole of the Rim-to-Rim trail system is appropriately known as the Corridor.

The Grand Canyon consist of two canyons, one inside the other, the Outer Gorge and the Inner Gorge. This fascinating phenomenon was formed by the faster erosion of the softer sandstone, shale and limestone strata lying on top of the harder granite bedrock which has a slower erosion rate. Therefore, between the outer and the inner rims, there is a ledge halfway down the Canyon, known as the Tonto Plateau. It's on this plateau where Indian Gardens is located, through where the Bright Angel Trail passes and serves as a camping ground and a rest stop, complete with a water bottle refill tap for hikers.

The original plateau through which the whole of the Grand Canyon cuts is the Kaibab Plateau. The plane is not quite level but slants towards the south. Therefore, with rainwater flowing southward towards and into the Canyon, they erode the North Rim at a faster rate as the water flows towards it. Also, due to the sloping plane, at 8,000 feet, 2,438 metres, the North Rim is around 800 feet, approx 244 metres, higher than the South Rim. With the rainwater flowing away from the Canyon South Rim, its rate of erosion is slower. Therefore, with the South Rim being closer to the River than the North Rim, the view from the south side of the chasm gives that spectacular view of the great North Tonto features that make up the most popular and famous postcard views.

And also the view from Indian Gardens on the South Tonto Plateau. From here, the trail hiker can make out the Buddha Temple Butte directly ahead. I now affectionally refer to it as the cousin of Zoroaster Temple for its similarity to it, consisting of a white limestone pinnacle topping red sandstone "shoulders". To be honest, as a hiker myself, the near-identical features confused me. But by studying my own photography, along with the trail maps, I became aware of the two rocky buttes, one on each side of the Bright Angel Canyon and both on the North Tonto Plateau. To the west, Cheops Pyramid stands out - a large "rooftop" of stratified rock, with Isis Temple Butte poking out from behind it as seen from the trail.

View of Colorado River from Riverside Trail - 1995.

I recall the evening I spent at South Rim after the completion of the 1995 hike. The pattern of the receding sunlight and the patterns and shapes of the shadows thrown by the buttes, pinnacles and other rock formations gives the whole scenery such a dramatic source for the artist's pleasure. From Battleship Rock just off the South Rim, the evening shadow throws an outline resembling a profile of a female's face. Not surprising, this phenomenon is named "Eve's Shadow" - the only name taken from the Bible among all other names taken from Eastern religions.

Perhaps you may be asking: Why have I gone into such detail about the Grand Canyon? Indeed, hiking through the chasm is a fascinating experience in itself. But during both the 1978 and the 1995 hikes, I knew little about the Canyon. But by completing the hike successfully, the whole of the natural feature had a hold on me, so to speak, and opened up a desire to learn about it, even on the geological side, and arrived at the conclusion that the water-laid sedimentary rock layers are the result of the Biblical Flood rather than that of Uniformitarian geology spanning millions of years.

Combining experience with knowledge certainly enhances the experience, including the photo album I now have. Oh, the wonder of the human mind to learn and retain knowledge long after leaving school and well into old age. I guess, to possess learning heightens respect for the student, thus making him become more of a necessity to society. After all, take our National Health Service. If it wasn't for doctors and nurses training to meet the grade, human longevity would be much shorter, with illnesses of all kinds blighting practically everyone.

But for many years I have wondered whether a graduate enjoys a more fulfilled life than one who has only a mediocre level of education. And so, earlier in the week, just before the beginning of the Zoom morning prayer, a couple of different people online shared their work experiences, thus giving an impression of a richer, more fulfilled life.

Mark has gotten a new job that will involve him working for a small Christian airline somewhere in Africa. Paul is due to set off to Sudan to contribute to a project, thus bypassing the British Winter. After many sumptuous details of their forthcoming opportunities, I thought about my wife's poor health and I felt my spirit drop, and I cried out why is that some people, especially graduates, have such enviable lives while others fight for their own existence?

I then gave examples of the latter by quoting those living in the valleys up North where, after a spell of heavy rain, the river burst its banks and flood surrounding homes and businesses, with water rising up more than a metre above the carpeted floor and rendering the owners homeless and the business, such as a pub, defunct. Or the malnourished in third world countries who have no idea where the next meal will come from. Then I cried out, Why, oh why, O God, is there so much unfairness?

Then one of our elders answered that we have no right to ask God Why. He is God and therefore He is sovereign. This gives me the idea that God will have mercy on whom He will have mercy and compassion on whom He will have compassion (Romans 9:15.)

Not at all edifying! This gives me the impression that God loves some people more than others. And especially favouring grads more than non-grads! And what happened on the same day? My beloved went down with severe pain in her lower belly and since an ambulance wasn't available for six hours after the call, I asked a neighbour whether he was willing to whisk us to the hospital. Once we arrived, she was allowed to bypass a queue waiting outside of A&E and we were allowed to report straight to Reception.

For more than twelve hours, I sat as if in vigil beside my wife as we waited for the doctor to arrive. After so much time spent waiting - an entire night without a wink of sleep - she was finally admitted to a hospital ward. And now, as I write this, the feeling of loneliness dominates my soul. Loneliness with fear of the future, along with the knowledge that my dearest beloved is once again suffering in hospital.

The futures of both Mark and Paul looks bright and glittering while ours looks very sombre. Where is my beloved's poor health leading us to? The very thought of widowhood brings terror! According to the latest update, she's lying in pain in her bed and a label above her head reads, Nil by mouth. That sounds serious!

To be a member of a church brings advantages. All I had to do was phone a couple of friends and tell them the situation. Not only they are willing to pray for us, but with my request, they, in turn, phone others they know. A prayer net is formed out of willing and compassionate supporters. And the net will include our elders.

Looking North from Indian Gardens.

Does God love some people more than others?

Does God have favour with graduates above others not so well educated?

No! No! No! If that was true, then the Lord would have ruled out all His disciples except Paul!

In addition, the famed verse, John 3:16 would be invalid, along with Romans 10:9-13, Acts 17:30 where Peter says that God commands all men everywhere to repent and be saved, and 2 Peter 3:9 where the apostle writes that the Lord is patient, not willing that anyone should perish, but all come to repentance. Salvation is open to everyone.

The Grand Canyon is a splendour of God's work of art. The sheer wonder of God's power. And such natural structures testify of God's judgement and His salvation by grace.

And no number of "likes" could ever match that!

A "Neanderthal" Feeling Intimidated...

A typical weekday morning in August. For once, here in the UK, the usual circular area of low pressure that features the wind, the overcast sky, and the rain, which typifies an average British Summer, must have taken the day off and thus, allowed the sun to shine through the broken cloud. 

As I lay in bed beside my beloved, she made a suggestion. Why not go to Reading? The large town is now defined as a city but has little to show other than the view of the River Kennet as it passes through a modern shopping plaza before joining the River Thames, a little way north of the town. I thought, no, I was there only last week. A trip to London instead? Again, I felt little enthusiasm, but I decided to make a day out of it.

I guess that is what it's like, having retired from paid work due to both age and poor health combined. Not that I see myself as "old aged" - far from it - but being drugged to the hilt with prescribed medication to keep my heart beating at a regular pace... As for "Pensioner" - that's the name of the money I receive each week - a pension. Just as a professional receives a Salary and a manual worker receives his Wages, it's all the same thing, several names, but with equal spending power.

I picked up my camera immediately before leaving for the station. Knowing that I was carrying a camera suddenly inspired me to go to Oxford instead of London. At last, I had a specific purpose for the trip - to photograph some fossils at the University Museum of Natural History. The photos featured in this blog were all taken on this trip.

Oxford University Museum of Natural History

As far as I remember, I had visited this museum twice before. My first visit was with my beloved wife in her wheelchair, and my PhD friend, Andrew, who slowly wheeled her around the galleries while I was giving my full attention to the exhibits. My second visit was on my own a few months later. Both visits were made before the Coronavirus pandemic. On these occasions, I recall the museum having free admission. Therefore, I felt slightly alarmed when I saw what looked like a toll booth placed just outside its entrance.

While I paused, a pretty young female approached, holding a clipboard. She then asked me whether I had booked my timeslot on the Internet before arriving. I felt my skin crawl as I protested that I had come all this way and knew nothing about any online booking. Especially if I had merely walked straight in on my previous visits. Was I about to be turned away? Would I be looked upon as one refused admission by a nightclub doorman? Had I wasted thirty minutes of my life waiting at the station platform as I changed trains midway through the journey?

I think the young lady could see the shock on my face. Thankfully, she decided that I can be allowed in without any need to book. But first, I had to go to the kiosk, where a conversation was taking place between the assistant and another visitor, and I had to wait further until the visitor moved on.

The kiosk was not a toll booth but a "ping station" - where I had to give my name and home phone number. If I came into contact with an infected person, I would receive a phone call with the instruction to isolate myself for ten days. All written with a pencil on paper, as I don't even own a smartphone, let alone being a recipient of the hated "ping" app. At last, I was able to walk into the museum with a massive sigh of relief.

Petrified Crinoids, a soft body organism.

Oxford - a world-famous centre of advanced learning. The very city where young, fledgling medical doctors are in the making. Therefore, I assume that the precautions taken against the virus were more sensible at the museum than, say, all those crammed together in a sealed tube flying some 36,000 feet in the air, or even in a packed nightclub, restaurant, or bar. Indeed, the museum is probably the size of a cathedral. Or cavernous enough to have a high, vaulted roof and perhaps, an adequate ventilating system in operation, hence my freedom to question the need for advanced booking. Indeed, I'm grateful for her with the clipboard. She didn't stick to her formal protocol. Had she, I believe that I wouldn't have been alone in walking away feeling robbed, sad and dejected.

The shortest walking distance to the museum from the station was about a mile, 1.62 km, a twenty-minute trek for most people, according to Google Maps. But by having stiff leg muscles, the walk took me more than twenty minutes each way, probably up to thirty minutes. However, on the outgoing walk, I diverted into the city centre and once there, I had a lunch of tomato soup with a buttered roll, a side bowl of potato wedges and a cappuccino coffee at the Marks & Spencer cafe. Very refreshing and filling, too! But what I found most delightful was, after a fairly long wait for my meal to arrive, how my smile of relief has uplifted the waiter's spirits, enough for the two of us to hold a brief conversation.

The waiter was obviously an immigrant, although from exactly where I couldn't be certain, as I didn't ask. He looked Asian, quite likely Oriental. The incident had opened my eyes. In such a department store environment, there is usually a wait between ordering a meal and actually receiving it. This is even truer, I believe, during the busier lunch period when I chose to order. The tired expression on his face indicated that due to the waiting - complaints, moaning, and the flack thrown at him by customers constantly in a hurry had stressed him out.

Trilobites and Brittle Starfish all died at once.

For the waiter to see me grinning as I directed him to my table, and then receiving a hearty "Thank you" - out of relief that my appetite can now be satisfied - had indeed brought some spiritual refreshment into his otherwise dull existence. This, I find amazing. A smile, a word of appreciation, a gesture making him feel worthy, what an impact that can make! Sitting alone at that table made for one had brought more fulfilment than just a full stomach. After lunch, I continued my walk to the museum.

In the city centre, not a suit-and-tie was seen anywhere, especially in warm weather. But, as I walked through Parks Road towards the museum, a very different crowd passed by, walking in the opposite direction. They all looked incredibly smart. The men wore immaculate suits and ties. The women wore summer frocks or skirts. None of the females was wearing trousers. Some of the men even sported a white carnation in their breast pocket, giving me the impression that they were all attending a lavish wedding. Whatever venue they were heading to, it must have been very posh. Posh enough to arouse my curiosity.

Amazingly enough, after spending around two hours at the Museum, I saw the same posh crowd of young men and women I had seen earlier, heading in the opposite direction as I began my trek back to the station. As they walked past, my curiosity was again aroused, along with a feeling of frustration over my sense of curiosity remaining unfulfilled. One was on his own, a young man, perhaps young enough to be my grandson. As he approached, it was at the tip of my tongue to ask him what this was all about, where he had been and what he was doing. But I did not see any sign of an invitation for me to ask. Instead, he looked straight ahead as he walked past. This English-looking toff was a far cry from the Asian waiter I greeted earlier in the day.

Was I chicken? Perhaps. Or rather, compared to his tall height, slim physique, well-dressed Caucasian, I felt - and perhaps looked - more like a Neanderthal than a Cro-Magnon or simply a modern Homo-Sapien. My fear of being reproved by him was a deterrent from asking, and receiving this kind of answer:-

Where I've been or what I was doing, what business is that to you? 

Indeed, a rebuke I dreaded hearing coming from him. I have wondered whether this crowd were members of the notorious Bullington Club, a society made up from the cream of aristocracy, who attended public schools such as Eton, Harrow, Westminster, St Paul's, Winchester, and Rugby. Our former Prime Minister David Cameron and our present PM Boris Johnson were members of the Bullington Club - which was notorious for its drunken and lewd behaviour. Both leaders of our country were Etonians and former club members. Then I also remembered: the club is exclusively male, with no female members. The passing crowd of toffs at Parks Road, consisting of both men and women, doesn't fit the criteria.

My snap decision to come to Oxford instead of London, the meeting of the waiter at M&S, the sight of smartly dressed toffs marching past me and heading in the opposite direction - what is happening? The reason for visiting the museum was to take photos of some of the exhibits. It's perfectly legal. There are no notices posted anywhere within the building forbidding photography.

Close up view of petrified fish with scales intact.

This blog isn't about any attempts to disprove Evolution. There is enough Creationist's material available to do that. But here, I make a comparison between these smartly dressed Oxford University students (I assume that's who they were) and the likes of myself. Compared to them, I feel like a Neanderthal! Any idea that the Neanderthal was descended from Noah's family doesn't seem to sit well in either a physical, mental or cultural sense, at least, not with me, anyway. But here, the Bible can be reassuring. If the Cro-Magnon and the Neanderthal were both descendants of Noah, then there is nothing stopping them from interbreeding - and that is a theory supported by even the most secular of evolutionists. That means even these toffs, at the pinnacle of the most modern Homo Sapien species, are likely to have traces of the Neanderthal genome in the nucleus of each of their body cells.

The striking detail of petrified fish scales.

But had any of them were in the museum with me, he would laugh with scorn at any idea that these fossils were formed in a catastrophic flood a few thousand years ago. Can't I read the accompanying labels? They say these fossils are from the Jurassic Age, around 160,000,000 years old. That is why, although the details of the fish's scales remain intact, all these soft bodies had petrified. That is, the soft flesh had metamorphosed into stone by the infusing of minerals whilst buried beneath the seafloor.

I suppose here lies the contest between a well-educated toff and the common sense of the "Neanderthal". According to observations, most smaller fishes are eaten alive by larger predators. I would say that the vast majority of smaller fish are eaten alive. But those that die naturally very seldom settle on the seafloor, let alone buried in mud. They are either eaten by scavengers or decompose. The decomposition is normally caused by bacteria living in the water. The chance of a dead organism settling on the seafloor (or on the riverbed) is extremely rare. Yet, these fossils show multitudes of organisms that died suddenly at once and were instantly buried. A catastrophe such as the Flood, recorded in the Bible?

It was a great day out!