A Short Blog - a Christmas Day Extra.

It's Christmas Day, December 25, 2025. My 73rd since birth, to be precise. I would like to write and post a brief article about this.

I woke up to a clear sky, but with a chilly east wind waving the branches of the trees behind our backyard to and fro. All was quiet. Alex and I remained in bed until around 11.30 am, before making an effort to rise. Not that I slept that long. I served breakfast at 9.00 am before returning to bed. As I write this, it's about tea time, and the cloudless sky was beginning to darken as the night arrives from behind to lay its hand upon the daylight's shoulders.

It has been very quiet in our street throughout the day. A few of our neighbours' homes had plastic snowmen on display in their front yards, Christmas lights illuminating the street-facing kitchen windows, and now and again, a resident with no issues with energy bills would cover his entire house with a dazzling array of coloured lights. Not a soul could be seen. Our street looked as if evacuated. Rows of parked cars stand side by side. Not even a bird chirping or a domestic cat sniffing around. And so, the world turns on its axis as it flies in a big circle around the sun. And the clock keeps on ticking.

And throughout the day lies a sadness in my soul, indeed, on a day when I should be happy.

Our street on Christmas Day, 2025.

Like the Christmas days of the past, say around 60-65 years ago. On the night of Christmas Eve, as I was sent to bed, my excitement was pulsating enough to evade sleep. I even peered through the curtain for a hope of a glimpse of Saint Nick, dressed in red, a white beard, and his wheelless chariot pulled by a team of flying reindeer. Never mind that, since those quadrupeds were wingless, flying would create aerodynamic problems; I wouldn't allow a scientific fact to get in the way of childhood fantasy.

Such were these fantasies of Father Christmas calling in the middle of the night, that by the time I was in my thirties, I left the window of my bachelor pad open with a mince pie on the windowsill. By Christmas morning, the window was still ajar, and the mince was still there, untouched. And no presents.

It seemed that Old Nicholas had forgotten that I had grown up, and he left my presents at my parents' home. You know the type of presents - ill-fitting clothes that have to be returned after the holidays are over. 

But the magic of Christmas was back in the early to mid-sixties, my pre-teen years, and during the early teens. On Christmas Day, my father's brother and his wife would arrive. Unfortunately, they had no children approximating my age. Just as well. If on one occasion, he told me off for not wearing a tie on a Saturday morning, heaven help his poor offspring!

However, the Christmas air was electric. While my brother and I were engaged in play, Mum and Aunt were in the kitchen, preparing the turkey, with its roast potatoes, red cabbage, Brussels sprouts, and gravy. Oh yes, sprouts. The green veg is detested by many children, and even on Christmas day, their joyful play with their toys was interrupted by the Christmas dinner table, with the child's tears rolling down his cheeks at the sight of the sprouts served in front of him.

But not me. I always love sprouts, and to me, Christmas wouldn't be complete without them. Alongside our plate lay the crackers, those funny paper things that were meant to go bang when pulled at each end. Too many times, there was no sound at all, except that resembling a kiss as the cracker breaks in the middle. Then the Christmas pudding and cream. Dad had a tradition of pouring vodka or whiskey onto the pudding and setting it alight. And the blue flame still flickered in our bowls.

Then followed nuts, both walnut and hazel nuts, along with Torrone (an Italian nougat) and panettone. And with our toys on our mind, whether a Hornby battery-powered train set, a Meccano set, or even for one year, a chemistry set. No, you can't buy these any more, due to elf-n-safety, but chemicals such as copper sulphate crystals and other similar substances were packed neatly in the same way as the train set. The one disappointment with the chemistry set was that the methylated spirits for the burner came separately; thus, I was denied full use of the set until after the holidays were over.

Very much like the child with an exquisite toy but no batteries.

After dinner, the ladies returned to the kitchen, and the two men relaxed with a cigar. Oh! That cigar aroma! As it filled the room, it was so connected with Christmas. My brother returned to his toys, and I returned to finish off that functioning Meccano model or the train set.

As a boy, how I loved Christmas with its joyful atmosphere. As far as I remember, there were no quarrels or disagreements. I think their joy was watching us play with our toys with enthusiasm.

Today, so many years later, as we snuggle up to each other, these Christmas memories return, and as I watch my beloved open her Christmas presents, I let out a sigh.

Travel Biography Photo Extravaganza - Part 53.

An Issue with Mary, Mohammed, and A Day Trip to Eilat.

When we flew to the Holy Land to celebrate our first Wedding Anniversary in 2000, our aim was to spend our time in Jerusalem soaking in the archaeological sites and the churches, especially those directly connected to the life of Jesus Christ. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, located in the Christian Quarter of the Old City, was one such church.

Our hostel on Souk David was 180 metres from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, yet every morning, while still in bed, we heard its bells chime. It was a distinct sound - de-clung, clung, de-clung, clung, de-clung, clung - a rhythmic sound lasting up to three minutes. The sound was unique, a reminder each morning that we were in Jerusalem, as such melodic bell-ringing as I had never heard in the UK.

The Roman Catholic Church of the Dormition on Mt Sion, the highest hill in Jerusalem, was another venue where I took Alex. Despite my previous visits to the Holy Land as a singleton, this was only my second visit there, as well as my beloved's first, as I had visited this abbey in 1993. As its name suggests, which means Sleeping, it's supposed to house the tomb of Mary, the mother of Jesus, sleeping in death as she awaits the resurrection of all believers. However, the authenticity of the site I have reservations, and this is why. 

At the foot of the Mount of Olives, there is the Tomb of Mary, an underground church close to the Garden of Gethsemane. This is an Eastern Orthodox church used by the Greek, Coptic, Armenian, and Syrian groups. Like with the Dormition, the body of Mary isn't there either. I visited the Tomb of Mary in 1993, but I couldn't take Alex in 2000, as it looked to be closed to the public. However, there is also a tradition that Mary accompanied the Apostle John to Ephesus in Turkey, and she died there while she was in her fifties.

Alternatively, she wasn't buried, or even died, but was taken bodily to Heaven; this is known by the Catholic term The Assumption of Mary. It was a tradition going back to the Church Fathers of around the second or third Century AD, but it wasn't finalised as official Catholic doctrine until Pope Pius XII in 1950. 

I find all this of interest, how these traditions parallel those of the Muslims, whose Quarter is also part of the Old City. The bones of their prophet, Mohammed, lie in the tomb in Medina, Saudi Arabia. However, two traditions say that he ascended to heaven. One was from the Kaaba in Mecca, or nearby, and he ascended on foot on a ladder. The other tradition says that he ascended to heaven on horseback from Al Quds, where the Dome of the Rock now stands at the Haram Al Sharif. However, unlike Mary,  it is said that Mohammed returned to Earth before he died.

It's stories like these that we often receive ridicule from the secular world, whether educated in science or not. But as I became very familiar with the sites in the Holy Land, and especially in Jerusalem, I could understand the basis of such traditions. They keep hope for the afterlife ongoing.

However, on one Sunday morning, we attended a Christ Church service, just inside Jaffa Gate and facing the Citadel Archaeological Museum. This was an Anglican church with Hebrew flavouring. While the service was held, the Call to Prayer rang out from the minaret of a nearby Mosque. We tried to drown it by singing aloud.

Entrance to the Tomb of Mary near Gethsemane, 1993.

In the Tomb of Mary, 1993, I encountered a tour group.

However, one afternoon, we were walking along Jaffa Street when I was thinking; Is it possible to board a bus for a day trip to Eilat? The idea grew on me, and I shared my idea with Alex, who was with me. She, too, was keen. After asking at the Egged Bus Station, I found out that there was a four-hour journey to Eilat from Jerusalem, a trip 315 km (196 miles) long, departing at 8.00am.

The morning of the next day, we made our way to the bus station and bought return tickets for the journey. The return journey to Jerusalem left Eilat at 4.00pm. This allowed us four hours in Eilat, where I had an opportunity to snorkel over the corals of the Gulf of Aqaba, a finger of the Red Sea.

The monotony of the bus ride was broken by a twenty-minute stop at En Gedi, on the western shore of the Dead Sea. Due to Alex's pregnancy, we didn't bathe in the Dead Sea, unlike during my previous visits. Instead, we admired the view across the ribbon lake, the lowest body of water in the world, around 425 metres below sea level in 2000. At present, the level is still falling due to the industrial use of the water. Alex and I looked across the Rift Valley, where the lake sits, and saw the mountains of Jordan on the other side, a phenomenon running along the whole of the Gulf of Aqaba, the Negev desert, the Dead Sea, the River Jordan, and the Lake of Galilee.

Around noon, we arrived at Eilat Bus Station. As we walked through the town itself, I wasn't too impressed. Despite existing during the days of King Solomon, around 960 BC, Eilat appeared as a modern town with the runway of Eilat Airport cutting through the town itself. Further down, its beach was lined with huge, multi-storey hotels. This beach is on the "fingertip", the most northern stretch of the coast, where it's possible to walk to the border with Jordan, and the town of Aqaba.

We caught the bus to the Coral Beach, close to the border with Egypt. Despite it being October, the resort was under a cloudless sky, and we bathed in warm sunshine. The rich blue finger of sea was backed by the pink mountains of Jordan, the section of the Rift Valley once occupied by the Biblical nation of Edom.

A hotel served Coral Beach. It was here that a public locker room was located, along with a snorkel hire kiosk and shop. It was here that I had to submit my passport to rent the equipment. I also bought an underwater camera. However, Alex felt a little low about not snorkelling with me, but not only had she never snorkelled before, but I was also concerned about her unborn child. After all, to legally impregnate her after 47 years of childlessness was a miracle! A wonderful miracle!

For the next hour or two, I relived my Great Barrier Reef experience. I took a break in the middle, and we enjoyed a picnic at the pierhead, with the waves splashing gently against the structure. After that, we strolled along the beach to digest the food before my second session underwater, peering at the beautiful tropical marine life so close under me.

Click here for the Index link to the main Biography covering Weeks 123 to 128.

Photos of Jerusalem Churches and Secular Life.

Christ Church Anglican.

Posing outside the Dormition Abbey.

At the Abbey. The tomb of Mary is in the Crypt.

The Damascus Gate.

A fruit market at the Damascus Gate.

A Sukkot Tabernacle at Ben Yehuda Street.

The Day Trip to Eilat Begins.

A 20-minute stop at En Gedi, by the Dead Sea.

We arrived at Eilat town.

Eilat Town as we approach the beach.

The runway of Eilat Airport is seen on the left.

The mountains of Jordan are seen from the town.

View of Coral Beach from the pierhead.

I face north as Alex poses at Coral Beach.

Facing south towards Egypt from the pierhead.

The mountains of Jordan back the finger of the sea.

A pleasure boat sails by.

Look carefully to see the town of Aqaba in Jordan.

How the coral appears from the pier.

During a break in Snorkelling.

Not exactly an athlete, yet a middle-aged father-to-be.

A close-up view of the coral from the pier.

Underwater Photos of the Corals.

Unlike the Great Barrier Reef, the fish here are abundant.

The corals are richer here, too.

Striped Zebra or Sergeant Major Fish.

A school of Jewel Fairy Basslets.

The corals are more on a submerged cliff than on the seafloor.

Sergeant Majors are the most seen fish on the reef.

Time for lessons? A school of Fairy Basslets swim by.

I'm looking at an underwater wall of coral.

The water here is less cloudy than over the GBR.

The result is aquarium-quality underwater photos.

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Next Week, more underwater pics of the Coral Beach, and a trip to En Gedi, a site of Biblical proportions.

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ALEX AND I WISH YOU A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A PROSPEROUS YEAR AHEAD.

GOD BLESS YOU ALL, AND I THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT.

Travel Biography Photo Extravaganza - Part 52

Jerusalem and Ancient History.

It must have been exactly a year since I ended the full Biography of my travels and began this photo extravaganza. Initially, I decided to cover the entire photo career in just a few weeks. Instead, after a year, I'm still ongoing. I had far more photos of my life's travels than I first anticipated. Of the numerous trips I went on, only two were single-venue package holidays. The first one was to the Costa Brava in Spain, 1972. The second was our honeymoon in Rhodes, 1999. In the 27 years between, I travelled on my own as a backpacker.

However, as a newly-married man, backpacking still hadn't ended with the honeymoon. A year after our wedding, I was at it again, this time, accompanied by my beloved, who learned first-hand the ups and downs of independent travel. On the 2000 trip to Israel, we suffered two "downers". The first one could have landed my wife, 18 weeks pregnant, in a hospital bed after abandoning an attempted cycle ride encircling the Sea of Galilee. The second was us remaining stranded on the road from the summit town of Merkaz Hakarmel to Isfiya, after miscalculating the walking distance between the two towns.

Afterwards, rather than expressing regret, I had a story to tell. A story on how we could have lost our unborn, or having to spend a night huddled together on a roadside bench, having not realised, until it was too late, that we had arrived in the Holy Land on the eve of a national holiday, when everything across the land had already shut down. And how we were rescued from a potential night spent by the roadside by a passing car driven by a church pastor.

Among the "ups", Alex enjoyed cooking for both of us in the kitchen of the New Swedish Hostel in the Old City of Jerusalem. Added to that was when I watched her kneel down to pray inside the Holy Sepulchre, the traditional site of Christ's burial, and also at the area of bare rock, the site of Christ's Agony, inside the Church of the Nations in East Jerusalem. With me, my "ups" included gazing at a section of a 3,000-year-old masonry making up a section of the wall of the City of David, a structure predating David's reign before taking over the Jebusite settlement. Another of my highlights, quite a contrast, too, was the four-hour bus ride to Eilat, where I took an opportunity to snorkel in the Red Sea and take underwater photos of the superb corals.

The Church of the Nations.

However, arriving at Jerusalem during the Autumn has allowed us not only to see the Jewish Sukkot, but to dine under one of the tents, or tabernacles, fixed outside a restaurant in the New City. By contrast with the Old City, which is under Arab administration, the Jewish New City is very much modern and Western, with wider streets flowing with traffic. That is, except for Ben Yehuda Street, which is pedestrianised. In 1976, during my first visit to the Holy Land, Ben Yehuda Street flowed with traffic, as did Zion Square, which intersected with Jaffa Street. 

When I returned in 1993, both Zion Square and Ben Yehuda Street were already pedestrianised, and a year later, in 1994, I witnessed a massive Jewish protest against the then Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin for agreeing with Yasser Arafat, the leader of the Palestinian Liberation Organisation, to make East Jerusalem Palestine's capital. Furthermore, the meeting between the two ministers took place at the Ron Hotel, the very venue where I stayed 17 years earlier after my initial arrival in 1976. It is now the Kaplan Hotel, an ideal backpacker's hostel.

Since 2000, which this album covers, we haven't returned to the Holy Land. Therefore, I never had any opportunity to see the extended archaeological discoveries around the City of David. This included the original Pool of Siloam, of which a sliver I have been familiar with since 1976. The site is earmarked to be refilled with water after 2,000 years of disuse and burial. In addition, the original Pilgrimage road extending from the Pool of Siloam to the Temple Mount was discovered and excavated, still lined with shops, and most likely well known to Jesus and his apostles. This, too, is due to open for public access.

I believe that the City of David excavations are now open as a public museum, as documented on TV. A ticket will give access to the site, which includes wading through Hezekiah's Tunnel (although a candle or a torch is still required), a view of a recently excavated Pool of Siloam, and a walk through the Pilgrimage Street, none of which were accessible in my day, except the 2,700-year-old Tunnel. How the historicity of the Bible has recently been proved so true by archaeology!

However, one other archaeological site Alex and I visited was the excavations of the Pool of Bethesda, where Jesus healed a man crippled with paralysis for thirty years. In my day, only a part was excavated; the rest still remained buried. What we saw looked more like a scrapyard than an ancient resort, and I wondered whether the untidiness of the site was what remains when the city was razed to the ground by General Titus in AD 70. Of the five porches described in John's Gospel, at least one of them is visible from where we stood. Also fully excavated was a river dam, according to the archaeologists, which was built around 700 BC, thus likely to be part of the same water conservation project under King Hezekiah, to protect the supplies from the Assyrian invasion. In all, the whole site represents a stratum of ruins stretching from 700 BC to the Byzantine church built around 500 AD.

This week's album also covers the views from the summit of the Mount of Olives, the Church of the Nations, and its interior, and the Garden of Gethsemane. On the summit of the mount, there is the Chapel of the Ascension, the only chapel I have walked into that does not have an altar or pulpit. Instead, the small building encloses a foot-shaped indentation on the bare rock. Tradition says that when the resurrected Jesus took off for Heaven, he left his indentation there. The chapel of the Ascension is Muslim-owned, and there is a fee to pay for admission, unlike all the other churches.

As for the Temple Mount, or the Haram al-Sharif, as it's also known, it was nothing like the drawing I made of it at school around 1965 (mentioned last week). Rather, it is a huge, flat platform levelling off the upper slopes of the hill. It was on this platform where the Temple once stood, now occupied by the Muslim Dome of the Rock. In front, the eastern wall is divided by the Golden Gate, sealed by Sultan Suleiman in 1541, and which only the Jewish Messiah could reopen when he returns to enter Jerusalem.

Click here for the Index to link to the main Biography, Weeks 123-128, for a more detailed account of this trip.

Photos of Jerusalem.

Inside Christ Church, Sukkot decorations.

Booths, or tents, were seen all over the New City.

Orthodox Jews were happy to pose for us.

Sukkot tents or booths cross the street.

Ben Yehuda Street celebrates Sukkot.

We even dined in a booth one evening.

At the City of David, 1,000 BC.

City of David masonry, 1,000 BC.

Outside the Church of St Anne, Bethesda.

Bethesda ruins.

A Byzantine Church dominates the ruins.

River Dam 700 BC, and one of the 5 Porches.

An untidy site left from 70 AD? Just a guess.

More Bethesda Ruins.

Another view of one of the 5 porches. 

Inside the Church of Dominus Flevit, Mt of Olives.

The Dome of the Rock and the Golden Gate

The Russian Church of Mary Magdaline.

Temple Mount as seen from the Mt of Olives.

Alex prays at the Garden of Gethsemane.

Ancient Olive trees in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Alex prays at the Site of the Agony, Church of the Nations.

Looking across to the Dome of El Asqua Mosque.

Byzantine ruins near Temple Mount.

I pose at the Chapel of the Ascension.

Alex reveres the imprint of Christ's foot.

At Souk Muristan. Shops are closed due to the unrest.

A Byzantine Shop structure at the Cardo.

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Next Week, after visiting the Dominican Abbey, Alex and I head for Eilat.