Travel Biography - Week 111.

Joy at last! This week, Blogger co-operated with the posting of photos where I want them to be. Here are 15 photos interspersed with the text which is the normal layout. Enjoy!

A Day Spent at New York Botanical Gardens.

I spent nine days at a HI-AYH in New York City in 1998. The time spent there gave me opportunities to check out the City properly, unlike in 1978 or 1995, when I spent at most a night and day before moving on. The latest visit to New York included a visit to the New York Botanical Garden (NYBG) in the Bronx, northeast of Manhatten.

The opinions of different visitors may vary, but it was my personal opinion that NYBG was more natural and with a less man-made look than Central Park. It featured a natural waterway, the Bronx River, after which the district is named. It flows southwards for 24 miles (38.6 km) from Westchester County, through the Garden and the adjoining New York Zoo, to empty into the East River. Hence the Bronx River is classed as a tributary. As it flows through NYBG, it has on both of its banks the Thain Family Forest, a small area of the original forest that once covered the whole of Manhatten Island before the European settlers arrived in the 1700s. The patch of forest within the boundaries of the Garden was never logged.

Van Cortlandt Park.

At New York Botanical Garden

NYBG

The Stone Mill, NYBG

Bronx River passes through the Thain Family Forest.

To the south of the Garden is the New York Zoo. I admit, after visiting the San Diego Zoo a year earlier in 1997, I didn't have much of an interest. San Diego lies in the subtropical region. Hence, that venue was both a zoo and a botanical garden combined, which gave me a unique experience of walking among palm trees and cacti. For me, the New York equivalent couldn't match the Southern Californian version.

One morning, after finding out about the park at the hostel and where to find its entrance, I took a subway train from 103rd Street Station to its northern terminus, Van Cortlandt Park Station, quite a long ride without the need to change trains. From there, I began to walk towards the NYBG through the park until I arrived at the Garden entrance after crossing the bridge spanning over the main railroad out of the Grand Terminus. At Botany Garden Station, a mainline train shot through without stopping.

I also felt slightly nervous as I walked along the street in the Bronx. Back at home, I picked up some information that the Bronx as a district was a bit of a rough area. How true that would be was anyone's guess, but as it was midmorning, the area seemed quiet, with even the Grand Concourse almost free of traffic - a surprise for a city such as New York.

For much of its past existence, NYBG was free to visitors, as the park was sustained by both the State and charities. However, by the 1990s, due to maintenance expenses not being met, an entrance fee was already introduced by the time I arrived. Fortunately, that didn't bother me too much, as the park looked promising.

River Reflections

More River Reflections.

The Rock Falls, NYBG

I found it surprising how many hours I spent in the Gardens, having expected just an hour or so. I found the Bronx River so calm and peaceful, hence its reflection of the scenery remained unruffled, as there was no wind to ruffle the surface. The river passed over some rocks, creating a waterfall, and a weir was also built as the source of energy to power the Stone Mill, a rustic building now disused, but preserved as a New York National Building. Also, on that particular day, the park was far from crowded. Apparently, I just about had the whole Garden to myself, and I explored in quietness. This seemed quite a contrast to the present day, according to Wikipedia, which indicated the drawing of bigger crowds after some improvements, including the opening in 2006 of the Pfizer Plant Research Laboratory, a new Visitor's Center, Restaurant, and Gift Shop. I wouldn't be surprised if sometime in the future, a couple of roller coasters will go up!

Therefore, if I were to revisit the Garden today, I would find it quite different from what it was in 1998, with modernisation drawing in the crowds. However, some of the original structures remain, such as the Haupt Conservatory, the Alpine Rock Garden, various flower beds, and the Renaissance-style library, a handsome building not too dissimilar to London's Buckingham Palace. However, I didn't get to enter the library, as I had little interest. At the time I thought it housed administration offices, or maybe it was even a private mansion.

Of all of New York's attractions, I would have rated the Botanical Gardens right up there, at the top.

That evening, on my way back to the station, I passed some youths lounging at the front door of a townhouse. Apparently, I caught their attention, and one of them called out while another apparently jeered. The Bronx might have been a rough area after all, and I was relieved to board the subway train at the station. None of this made sense. I have just visited one of the city's natural beauty spots, next door to the city's Zoological Gardens, yet, do these attractions sit in one of New York's iffiest districts? Then again, as I said the previous week, maybe they could see that I was a tourist. And one who was alone as well, and feeling very vulnerable to abuse. After all, if I think their perception of me was correct, then they thought that I was from a wealthy family living far away overseas, and since I could afford to travel far and wide, therefore I must have been fully loaded. However, that was 1998, 26 years before writing this. If tourism had grown since then due to recent modernisation, I wondered whether the Bronx would have become a safer area to live in.

That was when I wished that these youths followed my example. Instead of victimising the tourist, if they also wish to travel at my level, then work hard, save up, get a passport and head for the airport. Was I in a safe and secure career or job? No. Was I a scientist, a high-earning CEO or executive, a doctor or in any other well-paid profession? No, not at all. Instead, I was a window cleaner, a self-employed one as well. That means I was responsible for all financial matters. Yet, I managed to save up hard enough to travel the world - without getting into debt. As I once said to someone who seemed quite capable, yet moaned of his lot: Well, don't just dream about it, save up and get out there!

The Bronx River drops down a weir.

Cascading Stream.

Reflections.

A visit to The Empire State Building - and a near disaster!

Since it was completed in 1931, the Empire State Building was the world's highest skyscraper until the first tower of the World Trade Center was completed in 1970. It stands at over 443 metres high, including its antenna. The 86th-floor observation deck is 380 metres high and has both interior and balcony observation lookouts.

One outstanding photo which appeared on Facebook in the summer of 2018 was of a Tory Member of Parliament, minister Jacob Rees-Mogg, the 19th Century-style upper-class Etonian toff, standing on the 86th-floor balcony of the Empire State Building with two of his young sons. Despite the 30-degree Celsius summer temperature, he was dressed in his formal business suit and tie. And his sons were dressed the same way. Such a striking example of Englishness in a foreign country and in such warm weather. Above the photo, I wrote: To think that I stood at that very same spot in 1998. I never thought of wearing a tie. The post attracted attention and a humourous comment from an online friend.

And it was 1998 when I stood on the balcony, a full twenty years before Rees-Mogg ever stood on the same spot. Furthermore, facing south, I would have been looking at a different skyline from the view Rees-Mogg was looking at. What he saw was a single tower, the One Trade Center. What I saw was the Twin Towers, with no awareness of their fate just three years later.

However, at the entrance, things nearly went pear-shaped. Since the building sits between 33rd and 34th Street and is bounded in by 5th Avenue, I approached the main entrance on 33rd Street. Just inside its doors was an airport-style security system. Like everyone else, I placed my camera on the tray next to me and walked through the scanning frame. But having walked through without raising the alarm, I made straight for the elevator that would take me up to the 82nd floor, followed by the final stairs to the 86th floor and viewing gallery.

It was while I was climbing the stairs that I suddenly missed my camera. It had several undeveloped photos already exposed on the film, and if I had lost the camera, I would have lost more than just a small black box. I panicked. Then I remembered the security at the doors. I turned around amidst an ascending crowd and took the down elevator. I approached security and asked the monitor whether a camera was left behind. He produced it and handed it back to me without asking any questions. He recognised me as the owner of the gadget.

I took the next elevator up and climbed the stairs to the viewing gallery, feeling a strong sense of relief that I got my camera back. A backpacker like me just can't be without his camera. It's a bit like a car without an engine, a letter posted without its destination address, or a light bulb without power.

The Ghostly forms of the WTC as seen from the Empire State.

Penn Station from the Empire State BDG.

The Chrysler BDG is seen from the Empire State.

The Broadway, Madison Park, and Flatiron BDG.

From the viewing balcony, I was able to see Broadway intersecting with 5th Avenue, with both Madison Park and the Flatiron Building clearly discernable. Further away, the Twin Towers looked like ghostly silhouettes as the view of them penetrated the slightly misty air. To the west, I could just make out Madison Square Garden, and despite its namesake, it's a circular theatre where sporting events, such as boxing, take place, along with major concerts. Madison Square Gardens is New York's equivalent of London's Albert Hall. Next to the circular building, the dark skyscraper of Penn Station (short for Pennsylvania) stands like a sentry guarding his spot. Towards the north, part of Central Park could be seen.

I went up the Empire State Building twice, the second time after dark to enjoy the panorama of New York at night. The view was quite startling. It was like looking up at the clear night sky, only I was looking down at the thousands of pinpoint lights illuminating the landscape.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Week, Miscellaneous Attractions in New York.

Coping With Anger as an Aspie...

I felt apprehensive when I sat at a psychologist's office in Brookwood, Surrey. Then my sense of unease intensified as she announced that I'm about to undergo a mental arithmetic test.

"Oh, dear!" I protested. "I'm terrible at maths. What has this to do with parenting?"

"This assessment involves your IQ. It's all part of the process," the rather pretty young woman answered.

Actually, I was more surprised than she was when I got one sum after another correct without any visible calculation, whether it be with a calculator, on paper, or counting on my fingers. As each sum got progressively more difficult, it eventually came to the point when I couldn't answer any more, but at least that was way up on the scale. There were other questions too, such as what was Albert Einstein famous for? To which I replied that he was the first to work out the science of Relativity.

She was impressed - and honest too. She admitted that she was unaware of the answer until she checked my reply with the answer on her score sheet. Then another question: Name the Seven Continents.

"Er... Asia, Africa, Europe, Australia, North America, South America, er...er..."

"Yes, yes," she egged.

"Oh yes, Antarctica."

And so the questions came pouring forth. Many, such as the seven continents, could - or should - be answered easily by any schoolboy, let alone by a man in his fifties. But this might come as a surprise as we watched The Apprentice, just a few years ago. Here was a group of young professionals, each one vying to be Alan Sugar's partner with a £250,000 business investment awarded to the winning candidate. As the team sat around a table to discuss their business strategies, it became obvious neither was able to differentiate between the continent of Africa from India. Therefore, I had nothing to be ashamed of when I was assessed back in the Summer of 2005.

Indeed, as I stood on the platform of Brookwood Station, in shirtsleeves and dripping wet from the rain after walking through the famous cemetery, my spirits were high, having been told after the assessment that I had above-average intelligence. Maybe this was why I was able to beat a financial advisor and his wife at a game of Scrabble a couple of years earlier and also won by quite a considerable margin against another middle-class family at a general knowledge game which was not unlike Trivial Pursuit. But a shock was yet to come.

The final result of the assessment came back. I was diagnosed with Aspie.

Back in 2005, I knew just one other person who has Asperger's Syndrome. He was and still is a good friend, a tad younger than me and unmarried to this day. But if the psychologist was able to assess me as above average intelligence, she would have diagnosed him with super-intelligence, especially at maths. I have always known him as an ideal candidate for membership with Mensa. At present, I'm also good friends with another Aspie, who holds a PhD in Genetics. This seems to testify that being on the Spectrum (as it's now referred) goes hand-in-hand with having a higher IQ.

The symptoms of Asperger's includes the inability to contribute to group socials, generally in a pub or restaurant. It was one of the mysteries I wasn't able to fathom out when I sat with a group of friends in the pub following a session at the Reading Life Saving Club back in the seventies and again in the eighties - unless I found myself talking to just one other person in the group. One-to-one I'm quite good at, and the subject under discussion is of interest to both of us. Strangely enough, even on a subject which I have no interest in, such as football, I still can have a decent conversation with one other person - but would suffer a speech paralysis if football is talked about in a group discussion.

Another symptom which I was diagnosed with which led to my final conclusion, is that I tend to be pedantic. That means that I can be very fussy with accuracy. For example, if someone writes, Your good at maths, a pedantic person is less likely to resist from writing the correction underneath: You're good at maths. A pedantic person is more likely to get annoyed when reading text, and come across errors such as their, there, or they're used in the wrong context. But to be pedantic can also be a good thing when it comes to writing blogs or comments to be read by others. I, for one, always proof-read my work to correct any errors that might have slipped through the net. Simply, I can't stand others seeing my mistakes!

The third symptom of Asperger's Syndrome is a lack of empathy. This is the inability to understand how the other person would think or feel. The psychologist came up with the conclusion that I lack empathy. One possible example is for Jack to berate John because John always looks sad and forlorn, and is dampening the atmosphere of his immediate environment. Hence, Jack passes judgement without any consideration that John's mother had just died of a prolonged cancer ailment.

By telling me these things, the psychologist had done me a great favour. Since I became aware of these shortcomings, with the help of God through the Holy Spirit, I can change direction when faced with a choice of action. For example, if a friend was to approach me and say, I have less Christmas cards than I had last year. I would stop short of saying: You mean you had fewer cards than last year, which might have caused offence, but instead, sympathise by replying: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Did you receive my card? Which he's more likely to answer, Yes, I did. Thanks, Frank.

Psychologists may say that there is no cure for Asperger's Syndrome and having no physical abnormality associated with it, thus making any medical treatment impossible, but by believing that the crucified Jesus of Nazareth is the risen Christ and asking to be filled with the Holy Spirit, the effects of Aspie can come under greater control. The above Christmas card incident is a good example. By showing sympathy rather than to correct his grammar, I have achieved several things:

Firstly, by avoiding to correct his grammar, I have avoided the possibility of alienating him by being pedantic. Secondly, I have tuned into his feelings, hence showing empathy. Thirdly, I have taken his mind off the negative to focus on the positive, that is, to remember the card I sent to him and allowing him to thank me. Fourthly, not only is our friendship cemented but he also walks away happier than he was before.

With me having Asperger's, as diagnosed by the psychologist back in 2005, I believe that regular reading of the Bible and walking in the guidance of the Holy Spirit would go a long way towards building friendships. But being human, I'm still prone to err, and perhaps one example of this was when I shared a poster on Facebook. As someone displayed on his tee-shirt during and after the Spring Harvest Bible festival: GINFWMY - such lettering should arouse curiosity, indeed, I do ask to be patient, God is not finished with me yet. Thus feelings of anger can still arouse even by the most trivial issue, such as a poster I have shared on Facebook earlier in the week.

It was about Jabob Rees-Mogg cracking a joke that our fish will be happier now that they are in British waters, at last, free from the clutches of the European Union. As I read the statement, I felt a wave of anger pass through me and reposted the item with the statement, Bloody idiot! The fish will be happier with no fishing boats and crew around. Etonian pillock!

At first, I felt a sense of satisfaction after posting such a statement. Unless this politician had spoken to the fish and received the above response, I doubt that any fish would be happy to be caught in a trawler's net and be hauled out of the water to die and end up on the dinner plate. Then I thought, could he had meant that the fish will be happier simply by swimming under British waters? Who knows?

Jacob Rees-Mogg.

The poster was ignored by everyone who saw it. Not a single like or comment, or even an emoji (and I think there is a thumbs up and a thumbs down emoji within the large range available on Facebook) either for or against the statement. Coming to think of it, I think that what I had actually done was to allow my Aspie to rear it's head once again. 

The same article also appeared on the Daily Mail website. I then read the very long comment forum which trailed the article. Nearly everyone believed that Rees-Mogg acted foolishly, even citing the fish's preference very much the same way I did. But what seems to be my own personal anger, along with the dislike of him by the huge majority of commenters, was down to not just what he said, but his words were merely a reflection of his attitude.

Rees-Mogg's has always carried that arrogant I'm-above-the-rest-of-you-plebs attitude, who believes that England, being God's special country, is way too superior to be part of the EU. And so, always in a suit and tie, he turns up his nose and looking down, utter the words, we've won, you lost, get over it!

To be honest, I still find this very difficult to handle. Perhaps the kind of encouragement I need to to take my mind off politics and Brexit altogether and focus my mind on Jesus, to seek his kingdom and pursue righteousness. 

If only I could have sent him a Christmas card this year. Perhaps I would have made friends with him.  

Almanac - A Return to Conscription.

Following what I have written last week, A Whiff of Hypocrisy, I thought for this week to write a tongue-in-cheek almanack on what could happen after March 29, 2019 - the day the UK leaves the EU.

Imagine accidentally dropping a china plate. When it hits the hard floor, often it breaks into half a dozen or so wedges rather than shatter into a thousand fragments as with the case of glass, such as an empty bottle or jam jar. But the area of impact between plate and floor is a small area indeed, yet in an instant, a crack shoots across the plate, diverting dendroid-like until each fragment separates and fly across the floor in different directions.   

Brexit day had that effect on the European Union. From the day the UK left the EU, a massive political earthquake so severe shook the European block that the Union itself was drastically weakened. Two countries suddenly decided to leave, Hungary and Italy. This was followed by Austria, along with the Czech and Slovak Republics. Unlike with Britain, there was no messy political turmoil and confusion stretching to nearly three years since the 2016 Referendum. Instead, when these countries held their polls, and the majority wanted out, these Governments put their people's vote into action straight away, each leaving the EU after just a few weeks after polling day. 

Angela Merkel, Chancellor of Germany, had weakened to the extent that her position was under threat. Therefore, to preserve any remnants of the EU, she formed an alliance with French President Emmanuel Macron. Meanwhile, Spain gets into a huff with Britain over the destiny of Gibraltar, as this tiny territory has left the EU with the UK. Therefore this major Iberian Penninsula nation forms a stronger alliance with France and Germany. However, the Greek economy remains so weak that it decides to ditch the Euro currency for its original Drachma, just as Italy has brought back its Lira, Austria its Schilling, and the original Koruna became the currency for both the Czech and Slovak Republics. With its restored Drachma, Greece also drops out of the EU, although with the blessing of Germany, Spain and France.

Back in post-Brexit Britain, Theresa May, having fulfilled her duty, stands down as Prime Minister, leaving a vacancy which triggers a leadership contest. Candidates such as Boris Johnson, Michael Gove, Jacob Rees-Mogg, among others, all threw their names into the hat. But with both Johnson and Rees-Mogg having attended Eton, the contest was eventually whittled down to those two. However, because Rees-Mogg has an ongoing experience of being head of the European Research Group, he was already acquainted with leadership, along with his characteristic formal off-duty dress and stiff upper lip, he was voted in as leader of the Conservative Party, which remains in power, making Rees-Mogg the new Prime Minister. Odd, coming to think of it, but the party seemed to have forgotten that Johnson was once Mayor of London. Or was it because he lost to Sadiq Khan in May 2016, which the Tories consider something of a tragedy?

In turn, German Chancellor Angela Merkel and her Christian Democratic Union Party fell out of power due to increasing lack of popularity and a strong swing in favour of the Far Right neo-Nazis. Its chairman, Jorg Meuthen, becomes Head of State, and quickly breaks his alliance with France, and leaving what remains of the EU. Bent on National supremacy, not only does he want his country to be populated only by his Aryan race, but also has in mind to reintroduce eugenics into his manifesto, and turns to German universities, looking for post-graduates, particularly in the medical field, to staff his Cabinet.

It is a revival of the set of concepts which blossomed into the WWII Holocaust. To this leader, Darwin's Evolution is a basic truth further developed towards the human social sphere by Darwin's cousin, Francis Galton. The extermination of "weaker" races of mankind, which is the whole purpose of Natural Selection given a boost by human activity, therefore everyone who does not match the ideal Ayran model of humanity will be either killed, sent to lifelong hard labour, or be forcibly sterilised.  

Included in Germany's political manifesto is a bill which makes Christianity a criminal offence, and with it, the closing down of all churches, including Roman Catholic. Any belief in the Gospel of Jesus Christ must include a literal six-day Divine Creation recorded in Genesis, the cornerstone for the rest of the Bible. This Scriptural record would shatter Darwin's evolutionary theories to a thousand pieces, therefore making it totally irredeemable. The German neo-Nazis know this well enough. Therefore, by criminalising the Christian faith, along with the historicity of the Bible, will justify their concept of Darwinism and its nationalistic and eugenic offsprings.

All German churches close down like this one in Cuba.

Meanwhile, in London, Rees-Mogg had to bow to circumstances. Due to massive traffic congestions on the motorway leading to Dover, as well as a dangerously low level of vital medical supplies and the importation of other goods into the UK, the Prime Minister had no other option but to sign a new deal with the much-weakened Brussels for a Customs agreement. Although the EU is only a fragment of what it used to be, such signing of the agreement opened the door for such congestions to clear up and just as important, allow European immigrants into the UK to fill large swaths of medical staff vacancies which posed a very definite danger for every patient.

Rees-Mogg's stoicism, his stiff upper lip, and his plumb upper-class accent, as well as his constant smartness despite hot summer weather, has given everyone around him a sense of confidence, maybe even a sense of smug self-satisfaction. However, it's his stoicism which is hiding a very deep fear, maybe to the point of feeling terrified. And that is the rise of neo-Nazism in Germany, also no longer in the EU.

The new Fatherland's philosophy of Governance by means of national supremacy involving eugenics matches that of Adolf Hitler's in the 1930s, and our PM cannot help feeling that a war with Germany is becoming more and more likely with each passing day. So he consulted with the Ministry of Defence, and after long talks, all agreed that with such a scenario, the only way forward is to bring back compulsory Conscription, that is National Service for all males aged 18 and above, a making of a comeback after it was done away with since the start of 1962.

After the announcement was broadcast in all the Media, emotions ran high. There were some who relished the idea of the military. Oddly enough, it may not be so much for Queen and Country as for a sense of adventure along with plenty of camaraderie and comradeship among those under the umbrella of warfare. Such imagination looks far more exciting than the dreary day-to-day being stuck in traffic for a life of drudgery in the office. 

Then there are those at the other end of the thought spectrum, those who are terrified of the prospect of losing their comfortable existence enjoyed and taken for granted for past decades. Labelled as "snowflakes", they will do anything to acquire the status of a Conscientious Objector. They will also feel envious and rage towards the Baby-Boomer generation, nearly all having retired from full-time work and having never seen the inside of the barracks, therefore automatically exempt from the call-up.

Among those, there is the third group, probably the largest of the three. They are the ones who see the impending war as a nuisance, but for Queen and Country, they enrol without much of a fuss, and merely take such an inconvenience in their stride. After all, it's all that life is all about. 

Although there will be some years before the war with Germany will finally break out, the culture of the land is seen as changing post-Brexit. Despite the screaming objections uttered by the feminists, women are first discouraged, then forbidden to be on the battle front line, and are confined to administrative jobs. Also among the keener conscripts, a growing sense of patriotism is developing in their minds. But with this, also a sense of xenophobia, racism and homophobia. Conscripts who were thought to be gay were often enticed behind the sheds, away from any supervision, and beaten up. The same is also happening to non-whites. In addition, "snowflakes" are also victims of a severe beating behind the sheds, their whinging and apparent lack of physical prowess being a major source of weakness, so it is thought, on the battlefront. 

Across the country, a resurgence of boxing clubs is appearing at most if not all leisure centres, aiming particularly at teenagers prior to conscription. Also in this sport, females are discouraged as young males are drawn in, uttering wails of protest from the fairer gender. Once again the sport of boxing will evolve to be an exclusively male activity.  

Pride in traditional British culture is also resurfacing. And the most obvious of this is the revival of the neck-tie. Over the years, I have seen a gradual decline of this strip of cloth worn around the collared shirt. That includes many City workers, general office management and staff, medical staff, TV news reporters and scientists. As the tie nears to the point of being confined to weddings and the school uniform, now post-Brexit, it's enjoying a resurgence. As a result, the good old Tie-Rack store is reopening in all towns, and tailors such as Burton's are also making a comeback. Alongside this, landlords are becoming more racist and xenophobic, with black and Asian applicants for tenancy, along with Eastern Europeans, are all refused accommodation.

Many employers fire their non-white staff with an order to "go back to their own country" - despite many having been born here. But many other businesses are forced to shut down because most Eastern Europeans, who have sustained such businesses, have already returned home. Therefore with no indigenous Brit keen to take on such low-paid menial jobs, the Economy now has to rely entirely on imports - hence Rees-Mogg's need for the signing of the Customs agreement.

There is a national sense of returning to the 1950s. Compulsory conscription, boys learning to be boys, having a rough-up in the street instead of a constant fixation to their computer and tablet screens. In churches, this crazy idea of hugging each other ceases, even among the most charismatics, and the stoic, stiff upper lip is revived, especially among the men. 

A schoolboy, taken in 1950. Now he's well into his seventies.

At number 10, Jacob Rees Mogg is expecting Germany to declare war any time now. He knows that this war is a contest for national and world supremacy. The working of natural selection and the struggle for existence. The concept thought of by ardent atheist Jean Baptiste Lamarck, Charles Lyell, then by Charles Darwin and modified by Francis Galton. A race to godhood, so it seems, as was the false promise made in the Garden of Eden, and Brexit was a good launch-pad towards national supremacy, or to see it another way, a redirector, after being an EU member causing the Social Natural Selection to tire somewhat in its progress.

Germany, who sees the UK as a direct rival in the race for world supremacy, declares war! But after an intermediate period for Britain to surrender, and Jacob Rees-Mogg's refusal to give in to the Germans, Germany launches its main weapon, a nuclear warhead. As it plunges into central England, the resulting mushroom cloud annihilates a very large percentage of the population... 

                                                                          ***
Based on what I have read a Creationist worldview on Hitler and his Nazi reign, I cannot say that these things would never happen. There is a chance that it could. Fortunately, we have a God who created everything in just six days, whose breath of life are through our nostrils, and whose future lay entirely in his hands. And in his love and redemptive powers, I can rest my case, always trusting in him. 

A Whiff of Hypocrisy?

When browsing social websites such as Facebook, what I'm hoping to find is a direct message to me, or one where I get a personal mention, but failing that, a poster on which I would click "like", or posting an emoji reflecting on my emotional response to the poster (mostly the laughing image, but the one showing astonishment often appear as well). Like that, the one who posted the item in the first place will be aware that someone has taken notice.

It's rather like a game, or a contest even, to see how many "likes" the poster will collect, not to mention the growth of the comment forum beneath. Therefore it's easy to assume that if I was to post something, and even after 24 hours, had collected totally nothing, no one had seen it. More likely though, it was seen by quite a few but failed to meet anyone's approval or raised any eyebrows, nor was it worth commenting upon. Many of my own posters on Facebook, some involving videos, pass on with no response whatsoever.  

Therefore when posters either supporting or ridiculing Brexit appeared on my timeline, either I clicked "like" under those which advocated staying in the EU - or comment on why I disagreed with those supporting leaving. Often, together with other contributors, both for and against, quite an intelligent messaging board would at times grow beneath the poster, often to do with the fate or our future post-Brexit economy. Into these forums, I have added my two-bit worth when I felt it was appropriate to do so.

But lately, since our PM's Brexit deal was recently rejected by Parliament, quite a conglomerate of pro-Brexit posters began appearing on my message wall, all of them showing support for a no-deal exit from the EU. It was then when I got fed up with such input into the social media that I ceased commenting, and I began to ignore them.

Until one showed up just a couple of days ago. It featured a smartly-dressed English businessman walking away from the European flag, the circle of twelve stars, carrying one of the stars with him under his arm, along with his briefcase and what appears to be a box containing legal documents.

This time I didn't respond with any likes or with emoji, whether laughter, astonishment, sadness or even anger. This was because I have had enough with the topic at hand after making enough comment contributions. From now on I felt that just passing these posters by and ignoring them is now my best option. After all, these former discussions from either side, even from the best of learning and intelligence, still fail to edify. They do not bring any believer closer to God nor bring the unbeliever to his conviction of sin and his need for a Saviour.

But when I came across this image (pictured above), posted by a good friend of mine and an ardent Brexit supporter, I could not help but gaze at it. That is because of how the image fits in so well with the meaning of Brexit. The figure is that of a white Englishman dressed as a City gentleman, a banker, perhaps, or some other professional who holds a university degree, therefore conveying the idea (at least to me anyway) that the Englishman as of an ethnic race and cultural standing is superior to the rest of Europe, and deemed the Continental bloc as too unworthy to merit his membership.

However, his headwear looks a bit out of synch from the rest of his clothing. Resembling a Jewish kippah or yarmulke, it's most likely a normal cloth cap which was worn by the working class man at a pub or men's club, found up North, for example, in the suburbs of industrial townships such as Newcastle, Sheffield, or Middlesborough. If the artist has made an effort to portray a social cross-class figure walking out of the EU, then I must say that he didn't make a very good job of it!  

All on the same week when one major company owner, James Dyson, another ardent advocate of Brexit, decided to uproot and move his headquarters from England to Singapore. Although he's strongly in denial that this move has any connection with leaving the European Union, nevertheless, howls of "Hypocrite!" ran through Parliament, through the streets and particularly through the Media. Of course, it can be argued among Leavers that as a private company owner, whose business is for us to buy his bagless vacuum cleaner, he can do what he pleases. If there is a potential market waiting in the Far East as well as holding good stakes in the EU, then why not? In a choice between patriotism and money, it's money which always wins.

Then there is Jacob Rees-Mogg. I often refer to him as the Englishman's darling, despite my awareness that a large percentage of the British population loathes him. He is head of the European Research Group (ERG). Pardon me here, but isn't the name somewhat deceptive? Research? I always believed that the meaning of the word was to find out the truth about something, to investigate materials and sources to establish the facts. For example, I am familiar with Creation Research, an American Christian organisation investigating the truth of Creation in opposition to Uniformitarian Geology and the Theory of Evolution. I have one of their books, The Genesis Flood, by Whitcombe and Morris, using both anthropology and geology to establish the truthfulness of the Biblical account.

The ERG is not about investigating the history, culture, economic or even the physical structure of the European bloc in order to gather facts in a neutral sense. Rather it's a group of Tory politicians campaigning for the UK to leave the European Union. As far as I'm aware, their object is for us to leave the EU without any form of deal or agreement with Brussels in order to restore our nation's sovereignty. That doesn't look like research to me, but more like lobbying. But despite Rees-Mogg's patriotic zeal, I can't help smelling a whiff of hypocrisy when I read about him stashing two of his investments at a Dublin bank in the Irish Republic, a member of the EU. Truly speaking, are Dyson and Rees-Mogg afraid with what could happen to the British economy post-Brexit?

English Conservative politician Jacob Rees-Mogg

And who can forget Boris Johnson? He is the one who was the strong advocate of Leave prior to and during the 2016 Referendum. Still harbouring a long-held desire to become the leader of the Conservative Party and sit at the desk in 10 Downing Street, in June 2018 this man resigned from his Cabinet post of Foreign Secretary when things got a bit too hot under his collar concerning the PM's Chequers Agreement and Brexit. I suppose I could rate him as a coward on this issue, abandoning a sinking ship rather than make an effort to refloat it. But he too is rankled with hypocrisy. In 1993 he divorced his first wife, Allegra, after just six years of marriage, and then separated from his second wife Marina in 2018 after 25 years of marriage, to date a much younger woman as at present. As one American boss once said when he fired one of his employees for committing adultery: If you cannot be loyal to your own wife, how can you be loyal to the company?

And I will always remember good old David Cameron, our former Tory Prime Minister. It was he in February 2016, who called for a national referendum whether to leave or stay in the EU. He was an avid Remainer, along with his pal, Chancellor George Osborne, who himself had a beady eye on number 10. When they lost the vote in June 23rd, 2016, Cameron resigned as PM the morning after. If there is a Government leader doing a runner so quickly after defeat rather than engage in the difficult task ahead, then it has to be an Eton-educated politician.

I can see three famous Etonians here in British politics - Jacob Rees-Mogg, Boris Johnson and David Cameron. Between all three there is adultery (Luke 16:18), hypocrisy and cowardice. Yet despite all this, there is something so honourable about having an education at Eton. It not only opens the door to Oxbridge but to acting as well, so I once read. Drama lessons have taken a high priority at Eton and other public schools. And here is the irony. Hypocrisy has its root word from Hupokrisis, an ancient theatrical act. The theatre is the home for actors - people who are paid to put on a different character outside their own for the benefit of onlookers.

Greek Theatre, Siracusa, Italy - visited 1982 and 2007.

Jesus had a lot to say about hypocrisy, particularly in religious people (for example, Matthew chapter 23). It fulfils what Isaiah once wrote,

These people come to me with their mouth and honour me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. Their worship of me is made up only of rules made up by men.

Isaiah 29:13.

And yes, it is easy to look upon the lifestyles of others, especially among those in the public eye. But here I need to ask, 

Am I offering to remove a speck from someone's eye without realising that there is a log in my own eye? 

I guess this is a very easy trap to fall into. As one public preacher once said in a large auditorium, 

Even if you do not feel so white in your lifestyle: If you see another who looks black in moral issues, at least it makes your greyness appear as white.

I suppose that questioning another person's way of life and finding something to criticize and a judge is a kind of self-preservation against guilt. But unfortunately, as it seems, although such critical judgement may make me feel good about myself, but not before God. And concerning worshipping God at church with heartless lips is something I'm fully aware of. I'm not guiltless. One of my main concerns is about how others in the room feel about me. Or being cut up by a bad car driver and arriving at the church in a bad or angry mood. Or it could be daily worries, such as finance, which is putting me down. Or worse than all these, it could be plain apathy. Moving my lips during praise but my heart isn't into worshipping God.

Yes, I am guilty. And it makes things worse to watch others praise the Lord in what appears to be with genuine affection. But I also aware that in the privacy of my own closet I kneel before and confess my shortcomings before God, including hypocrisy, not only would I be forgiven but this could be the start of real, genuine worship.

Dust, Ashes, Loyalty, and Treachery.

Why are we here? I was once told that there have always been highly trained philosophers throughout history who were never able to answer that question. In a quest to leave religion out of the debate, one fellow had taken a look at a cliff-face of stratified rock layers, often containing fossils of long-dead organisms, and came up with the theory of Uniformitarianism. I know, it's one heck of a long word - and typing it in here may give an impression of being a graduate. However, the person referred was Scottish geologist Charles Lyell, who in 1837 published his book, Principles of Geology. In a nutshell, it was about his theory that the rock strata were laid down very slowly by water over millions of years.

Charles Darwin, after sailing around the world in The Beagle, finally arrived at the Galapagos Islands in the Pacific, and from observing the wildlife thriving on these volcanic peaks, and taking into consideration Lyell's book, in 1859 he published his more famous book, On the Origins of  Species by means of Natural Selection or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life, normally known simply as On the Origin of Species. It was the book which changed the world and liberated society from "the horrible shackles of religion" which included giving an account to a God in heaven.

Charles Darwin

Darwin changing the world? I would go as far to say that what he had written and published has caused a hypothetical earthquake which ripples could be felt today. And the ripples, rather than fading away as in a physical quake, these are constantly intensifying, right to the point where not only the earth is shaking but the heavens too.

Strange really, on how such a book could have an effect, both directly and indirectly, upon the lives of millions. As mentioned in previous blogs, Hitler's henchmen, academics such as Dr Josef Mengele, Dr Joseph Goebbels, Dr Alfred Rosenberg and Reinhard Heydrich were all former Roman Catholics - until they entered university and became more aware of the theory of evolution by means of Natural Selection being far more "in tune with reality" than their religious faith could ever offer, and all renounced their former religion, embraced Darwinism, and allowing this to be their mindset to get behind Hitler to launch the Holocaust.*

There is something about the university as a recognised institution. It was successful in transforming former Catholics into atheists, any beliefs in Creationism into Darwin's evolution, from being potential medical carers to mass killers. Furthermore, the university seems to have the ability to transform a man into believing he is a god. Not only is this accumulation of knowledge raises the student's status towards supposed divinity, but verifies the Edenic Lie to be fully historic.

Sure enough, there are talking animals recorded in the Bible. The serpent, or snake, was one of them. It was it which made Eve reconsider God's motive in not allowing them to eat of a certain tree in the garden and then promising divinity just by eating of its fruit (Genesis 3:1-7). Then there was the case of a talking donkey ridden by the prophet Balaam, recorded in Numbers chapter 22. The prophet was so engrossed with the king's reward to curse the young nation of Israel, that an angel, invisible to the prophet, stood in front while Balaam urged the donkey on. Then in exasperation, the donkey spoke human words. What astonishes me was that Balaam took all this in his stride, as if it was an everyday occurrence, without any hint of shock or surprise! I wonder how a present-day jockey, competing at Ascot Racecourse, would react if his horse told him in plain English to ease up?

To the secularist, such divine breaches to the natural order have made the whole Bible disbelievable and far from reality. And I guess this includes the story of the Tower of Babel, recorded in Genesis 11:1-9. Here, after a few generations, the descendants of Noah grew into quite a sizable community. Although meant to spread across the Earth by God's command, instead they deliberately disobeyed, preferring to confirm their status as gods by building a city and tower "to reach unto heaven". Their pride and ambition to climb the ladder of divinity, in this case literally, was so intense, that God himself had to intervene. Indeed, the snake spoke to them at Babel, and keeps on speaking, saying the same sort of things to us, right up to this day.

And from this divided community arose one man, Abraham. Married for many years to his beautiful wife Sarah, but remaining childless, this man knew his own worth before God. He was so different from his contemporaries. Instead of thinking he could make himself divine through hard work and in trusting natural selection to raise his descendants to godhood, he thought of himself as just dust and ashes, as recorded in Genesis 18:27-28.

Abraham had a very healthy perception of himself. Because to think of himself no more than dust and ashes was an acknowledgement for the need of a Saviour. And that is why we are here. To know God, our Creator, and a Saviour to save us from our godhood-obsessed sinful natures. And that is how I want to think myself as - dust and ashes by nature, yet regenerated and transformed into a son of God, to be "a little Christ" (the correct meaning of the word Christian), and to spend all eternity in God's presence. And hand-in-hand with this is to acknowledge that every person born is the very image of God, regardless of skin colour, nationality, religion, occupation or wealth.

Creationism recognises that every person is made in the image of God. Evolution discriminates against the weak and favouring the strong and the fit in the struggle for life, allowing the weak and the unfit to perish through extinction. And that can apply to race and nationalism, too.

Charles Darwin himself acknowledged this. He actually believed that the English were the superior race, more advanced in the evolutionary scale than all other nations. His cousin, Englishman Francis Galton, redirected Darwin's evolutionary theory from general biology to social evolution, something still sticking to us up to the present.

Tower of Babel.

And so this passing week, where social evolution seems to be the underlying motive involving loyalty against treachery in the political world here in the UK. It was all about Brexit, and after months of failed negotiations with Brussels, at last, our Prime Minister, Theresa May, has come up with a deal which if passed by both Brussels and Parliament, will keep the United Kingdom united and at the same time, keep the border between Northern Ireland and the Irish Republic open, without a physical barrier, which was removed after the signing of the Good Friday Agreement on 10th April 1998. The deal includes the restriction on people movement - the main sticking point of the 2016 Referendum - as well as better fishing rights and freedom from the European Court of Justice in Luxembourg. But the issue also involves remaining in the single market for tariff-free and borderless trading.

For example, much of our necessary medicines are manufactured in the EU and shipped here in the UK. If May's deal is passed, any threat to our medicine supply will most likely be lifted, and our supplies should continue as they always have. But if the deal falls through, and that can still happen, then it's either a No-deal Brexit, which could see our medicine supply, for example, restricted or even cut off - or no Brexit at all, therefore remaining in the EU (wishful thinking!). This is really important to us, as both my wife and I are dependent on a regular supply, in my case, for life.

Theresa May admits that her deal is far from perfect, but it is the best on offer. She spent months working hard at it, to bring it to an agreement with Brussels. When a draft agreement was made, immediately a number of Tory MP's started to write letters to the Party Chairman for the Prime Minister to be given the vote of no confidence, in other words, to oust her out from power.

One of the leading "hard-Brexiteers" who was to write such a letter was Jacob Rees-Mogg, sometimes known as the Englishman's darling. Despite May's hard efforts over the months to knock out a deal, in him, we see treachery in its worst form - campaigning to have the Prime Minister kicked out of power while she is in a vulnerable position. 

For the benefit of those who are regular readers of my blogs, I have made known my disagreements with the Conservative Party. For example, I have always been against any form of privatisation of the NHS, I was never keen on big business making big profits at the expense of its workers and its customers, I never had any time for rich, idle aristocrats or posh people, I have always been on the side of the low-income earners and their rights to benefits. I have favoured re-nationalisation of the railways, and I was even sympathetic for socialist Jeremy Corbyn in power as Prime Minister. 

But this case is different. I actually admire Theresa May for her sheer determination to get a deal through, and I admire her for her resolute stance in not giving to these hard-line Brexiteers who are in a sense, baying for her blood. And I admire her husband, Philip May. By reading on how supportive he is towards his beloved during her most difficult moments is heart-moving. And I hope, as a daughter of a vicar and both regular church-goers, they feel free to call on God's grace to empower her in her endeavour. She is going to need it!

But I cannot say the same about the treacherous Jacob Rees-Mogg and his ilk. Immediately after the deal was announced, he immediately campaigned for her to be voted out of office. He was the very first to write a letter of no-confidence. For a leader who has tried her hardest, to be kicked while she is already down is disgraceful. Yet Rees-Mogg is a practising Catholic. He claims to be a devout Christian. Like May, he too goes to church each week. Yet he does this to her. It is because of his religious and educational background that I have singled him out among hard Brexiteers.

Therefore, what has Rees-Mogg's bad behaviour to do with Darwin's evolutionary theory and its consequences? Here I take the guidance of Jesus himself:

Ye shall know them by their fruits.

Matthew 7:16 AV.

Simply this: Despite his Catholic upbringing, I also believe him to be a devout evolutionist despite that he never said this in public. By accepting Darwinism, he also accepts the biologist's idea of racial superiority, that is to say, he believes that the English are a superior nation to all other nations. Charles Darwin himself believed this. His cousin Francis Galton also believed this. therefore it's no surprise that Rees-Mogg also shares their beliefs, as it can be so clearly seen whilst in the public eye.

Having been to Eton, one of Britain's most prestigious schools, and then studied at Oxford, Rees-Mogg never leaves his house without a tie. He even takes his sons out on holiday, each dressed in suit and tie, regardless of the warm Summer weather. Therefore he constantly poses as the ideal English gentleman. And of course, very patriotic, seeking sovereignty, independence, and a hopeful future glory for England. Before now I would have passed all this off as a mere eccentric. But after his campaign to have the PM thrown out whilst in her lowest ebb - that is not eccentricity. Rather it's downright wickedness!

Jacob Rees-Mogg on holiday in New York, 2018.

And here is what I find rather distressing: There are Christians, some even in my own church at Ascot, who supports Jacob Rees-Mogg, and uphold him as a shining beacon of Brexit and the return of traditional Englishness. Furthermore, he is given full credit for his educational and social backgrounds, his patriotism, his stiff upper lip, and year-round smart dress. Indeed, with such support given by those who call themselves Christian but are really graduates, it makes me wonder how I could possibly remain one myself, identifying as being of the same faith. Then again, before now, it's quite likely that they didn't know any better.

Really, I hope their eyes are suddenly opened by the MP's act of treachery and betrayal. To add to this, I have a hope that God's mercy does pierce any veil the Church has over Rees-Mogg's eyes, and to see what his has done, and repent, afterwards letting his colleagues know of his change of mind and give that much-needed support for Theresa May and her struggle to complete a momentous task. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Jerry Bergman, Hitler and the Nazi Darwinian Worldview, Joshua Press, 2014.  

With A Posh Politician in New York.

As much of June and July basked under a prolonged heatwave, I have wondered just how many school pupils confined in their classrooms across the land had daydreamed of the beach with gently-lapping waves of the turquoise ocean giving a relaxing background rhythm to the locality. Or the splashing of the cool waters of an outdoor swimming pool with sunshine rays making constant movement on the pool floor while the air above it carries a light pungency of chlorine. Nearby, families sunbathed, children running to and fro, a beach ball flies through the air, and the teacher suddenly raises her voice, shattering the dream into a thousand irretrievable pieces.

At last August arrives, all schools have broken up, and with it, the cool wet weather of a typical British Summer, with winds whipping up the grey sea into turbulence as its large waves hits the wall supporting the esplanade. From time to time a quick shower causes a forest of umbrellas to suddenly emerge from the crowd, but despite of all this, not a single school uniform, or equivalent, can be seen among the thousands of youngsters who passes along the esplanade throughout the day. Further inland, parents rack their brains in their attempts to try to keep their offspring entertained during the school holidays while the blustery drizzle continues to decorate the outside of the window panes with tiny raindrops.

Therefore was I astounded when a photo of Conservative backbench politician Jacob Rees-Mogg appeared in the Daily Mail Online posing with his wife Helena and what appears to be his two eldest children, Peter and Mary.

Jacob with wife Helena and children Peter and Mary.

Perhaps with a remarkable adult resemblance of the classic Beano comic character, Walter the Softy, the spectacle-wearing lad who has always been a contemporary of Dennis the Menace and Gnasher, here poses the politician with part of his family at the lookout of the Empire State Building in New York during their Summer vacation.   

Just as I stood at exactly the same spot twenty years earlier in 1998, just a few months before meeting my future wife Alex. However, Rees-Mogg's New York is somewhat different to the New York of my day. What I saw back then, as I faced south towards Downtown, were the original twin towers of the World Trade Center. These were skyscrapers resembling gigantic cigarette lighters which dominated the skyline, especially from the area of the Hudson River surrounding the Statue of Liberty. I have a mix of both gladness and regret when it comes to the World Trade Center. Gladness that I visited the rooftop observation deck on the South Tower back in 1978, but regretting not visiting the same location twenty years later in 1998. Instead, I decided on the Empire State Building, one venue I had never set foot on before then. Indeed, if only I had bothered to re-visit the World Trade Center in 1998 in addition to the Empire State Building. It would have been a way of saying a final goodbye before the 9/11 disaster in the year 2001.

Instead, what Jacob Rees-Mogg saw close to the same location was the new version of the World Trade Center, a single skyscraper of the same height as the original towers. However, if our present set of circumstances is anything to go by, from now on it remains unlikely that I would ever set foot again in New York, or for that matter, at any overseas destination, for the rest of our lives. Alex's health would not be able to take it and the resulting strain would be too much, ruining both our holiday or getaway.

Yet I can't help look at the above photograph with amazement. What I have read, it was around thirty degrees Celsius on that day, yet father and son are both dressed up in suit and tie - and it was neither a business or school trip, but a summer vacation. I'll be honest here, I have wondered what went through the boy's mind when the family arose for breakfast at their hotel. I can think of one of two types of tongue-in-cheek conversation having taken place that morning:

Dennis, Gnasher and Walter

Conversation A

Helena: Good morning. A new day of our summer holiday! I have been checking on the Internet, and there is a Six Flags Theme Park with Fun Fair, including spinners and gutsy roller-coasters, about a ninety minute drive from here, on the road to Philadelphia. Or there is a beach, accessible from here on the subway. What do you think?

Peter (eldest son): Fun Fair? Ugh, such money-wasting venues are for commoners, plebs with no education or culture. No, I'm not interested in these stupid spinners or roller coasters! Nor the beach either, coming to think of it! What an insult to my English upbringing such suggestions are!

Jacob (taking his wife aside then whispers): Darling, are you out of your mind?

Helena (vigorously shaking her head and whispers): Shh! Not in front of the children.

Helena (re-entering the bedroom): Where would you like to visit instead?

Peter: There is the Basilica of St Patrick, the main Roman Catholic church of New York. Please, Mum, I want to go there to admire its architecture. Then there is the Church of the Trinity in Wall Street. Not to forget St Peter's Roman Catholic Church, and if we still have any time left, there is St Thomas C. of E. to admire as well.

Mary (daughter): Peter is right. I don't care for those trashy parks either. I'm a girl of class.

Peter: And I want to wear my shirt and tie. Even if it's hot outside, I want to visit these churches with respect.

Jacob: My mind is made up. I would like to go up the Empire State Building, and if there is time, we'll visit some of the churches Peter had suggested, leaving the rest of them for tomorrow.

Helena, Peter, Mary, in unison: That is a brilliant idea!

Jacob: Dress up, and you Peter, put on your tie. We must be the best representatives of our country.

Conversation B

Peter: Dad! Dad! Last night, just before going to bed, I found the Six Flags Theme Park, which is about ninety minutes drive away. It looks exciting. Spinners and gutsy roller coasters! Can we go?

Jacob: No, absolutely not! Those venues are for commoners who have no more sense than that of mere indulgence.

Peter: But Dad, we're on holiday. My classmates have posted on Facebook of their trip to Chessington Theme Park. They had a lot of fun. They even got wet on a couple of water rides. Other friends of mine have posted themselves bathing in the Mediterranean. None of them wore ties, only tee-shirts and open neck Hawaii-type casuals. They were even topless on the beach. Yet we all attend the same school.

Jacob: Don't argue with me, son. Today, after visiting the Empire State Building, we will also be visiting the Basilica of St Patrick, followed by the Church of the Trinity.

Peter: Visiting churches? How boring!

Jacob: You do as you're told! Now do up your shirt button and put on your tie!

Peter: Aw, Dad. It's hot outside.

Jacob: Look, I'm wearing a tie. It's just as hot for me outside as it is for you. But we're English. We are representatives of Her Majesty the Queen in a foreign country. It's about time you starched your upper lip!

Jacob (downstairs at the breakfast table): Now let's say grace before breakfast. Dear Lord, for what we are about to receive, may to the Lord we be truly thankful. Amen.

Helena, Peter, Mary, in unison: Amen.

Jacob (to the waiter): I don't like bacon. Please remove the portion from my plate this instant and replace with two more sausages. Thank you.

The original World Trade Center, taken 1998.

Those two conversations were of course, tongue-in-cheek. But among those who voted to leave the European Union in 2016, as a politician, he has risen to prominence and popularity among his followers. As one friend wrote in Facebook, announcing Rees-Mogg as our Prime Minister-in-waiting, I should present myself to him fully dressed in suit and tie. Of course, that too was tongue-in-cheek, but I do get his gist.

But in real life, I would like to meet Jacob Ree-Mogg in person, if he isn't too snobby being at Starbucks, Costa Coffee, or even in a quiet pub. And who knows, I have a hint that he would willingly book a slot for us to meet, even if its a month, two months or later still due to his busy schedule. I have that hint that he would be happy to talk to me, despite how I might feel towards him. It is a matter of us both attending the same church. Like one of our Elders and I meeting at Starbucks approximately every three months for a good chat, including giving him advice as well as receiving edification. His humbleness as an Elder willingly meeting with a retired window cleaner old enough to be his father is worthy of commendation. But this involves attending the same church.

But with Jacob Rees-Mogg it would be most unlikely, even if our different churches are in the same town. Being a devoted Catholic, he would be as much uncomfortable in my Protestant-based church as I would be in his. As so, it remains wishful thinking.

But supposing Rees-Mogg and I did meet, facing each other at the coffee table. Would I feel any hostility towards him? Quite unlikely, but rather filled with curiosity on why England as a sovereign state is so important to him. Also I would ask him whether, once out of the EU, Britain would eventually develop a desire to convert every British Commonwealth nation back into a colony and reinstate the Empire, even if this would take up to a generation. I would be curious whether he really has feelings of xenophobia, which would also include asking whether he would sanction the closing of the Channel Tunnel. Also I'm interested whether he is devoted to supernatural Creation as recorded in Genesis, or is he a devotee of Charles Darwin. If he favours the latter, does this mean then that he believes in racial and ethnic superiority, not unlike that of the Nazis? But equally important is why does he feel the need to pray to the Virgin Mary to intercede for him if Jesus Christ has already atoned for his sins and salvation is readily available for all believers?

Furthermore, I would encourage him to quit trying to get right with God by practicing Roman Catholic customs, and believe that God has already made peace with him the day Jesus died on the Cross, was buried, and on the third day rose again from the dead. Thus atonement was made and fully completed. So there is no need for a priest to intercede. In fact, as a true believer, we are both priests, tasked with the privilege of being lights of our society, to shine as bright stars for God in this dark world.

Up to recently, Jacob Rees-Mogg has always been an obnoxious sort of person, to my mind. But lately, the more I think about him, and especially after looking at his holiday snap in New York, the more my dislike metamorphs into that of fascination and astonishment on why the English have so idolised him to the point of yearning for him to lead our country as Prime Minister.