The Day I'll Talk to the Queen...

A strange atmosphere is at present shrouding the whole of the United Kingdom. It began about midday yesterday, Friday, April 9th, 2021. Thank goodness such an announcement wasn't released eight days earlier. It could have gone down as the cruellest April Fool's joke anyone would have thought up.

Suddenly, everything in the Media had changed. Before yesterday, the centre of all attention was focused on the British-made AstraZeneca vaccine and whether there is a link between it and the few deaths which occurred following a blood clot in the brain. And so, arguments for and against this theory kept on swinging back and forth, baffling the experts. And that is despite in a recent poll, 69% of the British population say that far too much fuss was made about the vaccine-clot link, while only a mere 16% disagree, while a further 15% weren't sure.

The AstraZeneca was invented at Oxford University.

Having received my first dose of the AstraZeneca vaccine, I'm eagerly waiting for my turn to receive the second dose, and in no way would I allow such a controversy to get in between! Especially if the stats show just one to four blood clot-related deaths in 1,000,000 recipients of the AstraZeneca vaccine.  

However, through means of the daily feed, we are told that at the time of writing, there were a total of Covid-related deaths equalling 127,040 here in the UK. Not a single victim named. No faces, no familiarity. Instead, it's all about numbers. Just numbers. And not a single name appearing on the remotest corner of any newspaper page. And so, the Grim Reaper never takes a day off. Rather like Santa Clause on Christmas Eve, he goes roaming around the globe, but instead of giving out presents, he takes one human life after another at a shockingly high rate. And he's not even polite enough to first knock on the door!

Then the news comes in that HRH Prince Philip Duke of Edinburgh had just passed away. One news anchorwoman changes out of her brown outfit to don a black one. And male correspondents, journalists, reporters, and all others involved in the Media, including those behind the scenes, all strip off their current ties to make way for their black ties. Others who feel more comfortable wearing an open-neck shirt suddenly produce a black strip of cloth like a rabbit out of the magician's hat. It was as if everyone was expecting the Grim Reaper, sooner or later, to invade one of Windsor's apartments without an invitation.

And as death will come upon all of us without exception, most will see death as just a natural part of the evolutionary process. And it goes to show how cold and pitiless Evolution really is, as it pushes on with its survival of the fittest. This process of Natural Selection - could this be why a tourist who visits a Safari Reserve can only do so in a protective jeep or similar vehicle? Any lion, tiger, or other carnivores would have no special respect for a tourist. Rather, the satisfying of her hungry stomach and the welfare of her cubs would always be its priority.

And the same applies if our Queen and Prince Philip had ever visited the park. They too would have had to ride in the jeep. The big cats would never favour this royal couple above everybody else and spare them. The same applies to a visit to the local zoo. London Zoological Gardens has a VIP entrance which is separate from the public entrance. But once in the park, none of the animals born in captivity would give this couple any more attention than everyone else. Rather, the keeper will order the Royals to stay out of the tiger's pen, just as he would have ordered anyone else to stay out. Likewise, with our supposed closest relative, the primates, none of them would bow to the Queen any more than they would to any casual hipster.

Therefore, for the whole nation, along with its former colonies, to go into mourning over the death of just one person - whilst over 127,000 die of a viral disease without a single bat of the eyelid. According to the Daily Mail newspaper of Saturday, April 10th, 2021, the first 35 pages are fully devoted to Prince Philip and the whole of the century of his life. Then on page 36, Specsavers Opticians placed a full-page advert pic of a delicious vanilla ice cream cone, complete with a Flake bar, before the paper begins to cover other, less important news, including a set of national statistics on the AstraZeneca vaccine. 

Is ice cream good for eyesight? Food for thought, perhaps.

But here, I would like to set the record straight. I have never had any issues with the Monarch or her kin. I believe that over the decades she has done a wonderful job as Sovereign. Likewise, the Duke of Edinburgh had always been her backbone, supporting her throughout her entire reign, especially during difficult times when Charles and Diana divorced and afterwards she was killed in a car accident. He stood by her, and quite likely, had played a vital role in preventing the institution from disintegrating.

But what I find so incredible is how just one man's death brings the whole nation mourning - while many died within a month of a positive test result for Coronavirus - and each victim of the virus looked upon merely as a statistic without a name. And yet the Media goes into overdrive when just one man dies. Nothing new here, this sort of monarch-worship is not confined to Britain. Rather, this had been ongoing for thousands of years elsewhere.

The Royal Couple, taken in 2019.

But like the virus, death does not discriminate one person from another. It will get us all eventually, that is if each one of us is a descendant of our first parents, Adam and Eve. It's that awful reality, so out-of-sorts, so unnatural, and so invasive. It has caused families to grieve throughout history, it can cause a whole nation to mourn, yet when a wicked or cruel man dies, there is often a sigh of relief - as the environment is at last free from his grip, power or influence. I wonder how many felt relief when news of Adolf Hitler's death made the headlines?

As death doesn't discriminate on who it will hit next, yet there is one man who had defeated death and is alive now, Jesus Christ, who is of Jewish descent. And one day, after every believer alive throughout the ages is resurrected, we will be like him, for we shall see him as he is. The Lord Jesus Christ is the Great Equaliser.

The Revelation of John the Divine is the very last book of the Bible. It's also known as the Apocalypse by the Catholic church. The book consists of letters written to seven churches located in what is now western Turkey. These letters are then followed by a series of prophecies of the future, with the establishment of God's eternal Kingdom. The whole book is centred on Jesus Christ himself. Its author, the apostle John, experienced a series of divine visions while he was exiled alone on the Greek island of Patmos. 

In chapters 21 and 22, John describes a glorious city, the New Jerusalem, "coming down out of heaven." It's a city of tremendous size, which indicates a very large population. The city will be surrounded by a wall with twelve gates which will never be shut. This may indicate access to the rest of the world, glorious in beauty with an abundance of lush vegetation, along with mountains, valleys and streams of pure, drinkable water, as the whole Earth is restored to an Edenic paradise. Somewhere in the city, the throne of God is established, and with Jesus Christ as the Lamb of God enthroned, there will be easy access to the throne where anyone can approach, without hindrance or any form of special preparation, and talk to God face-to-face, like a man talking to his friend.

Apparently, 24 more thrones look to be established, twelve on each side of God's throne. One set of twelve will be seated by all twelve tribal heads of Israel - each of the twelve sons of Jacob. The other twelve will be occupied by the twelve apostles of Jesus Christ. Each will be easily approachable, with no need for special preparations beforehand.

I believe that next to the throne of God, there could be a crucifix. If so, then this will be placed there to remind everybody that they are in his presence because of the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ which had defeated sin and death altogether. 

Not a single "good deed" done by any of its inhabitants have ever earned a place in this city. Instead, by atoning for every sin by dying on the cross, every inhabitant has God's own righteousness imputed into his soul whilst still in his old life, and this imputation comes by faith in the risen Christ. In other words, God had saved every single believing individual now alive in the new world.

And this includes the Queen and Prince Philip. Not because of their former status but because of Christ redemption on the cross. It also includes every Christian I have known personally, and it includes my beloved wife and me.

Alex will be a ravishing beauty, her face shining. Likewise, both the Queen and Philip will look as if they're in their early thirties, and each one of us will be approachable. There will be no security guards surrounding them and no need for escorts.

And thus the Queen is walking arm-in-arm with her husband. Alex and I approach and all four of us can engage in a conversation, with then relating to us on what the life of a monarch was really like, while I relate to Alex's past illnesses and how she's so wonderfully delivered. Since there's no shortage of time and nobody is in any hurry, the happy chat between us can last for quite a while. We would never get bored with each other, nor suffer any form of impatience, and there will be no "we must move on" attitude.

I can imagine a table placed near the banks of the river which will flow from God's throne. At this table, the four of us can sit, and enjoy eating the fruit that grows continually on the riverside trees. Then, great men of the Bible are often seen and there are times when we can talk to them and allow them to relate about their former lives. The prophet Daniel, for one, can tell us what it was like spending the night in a den of lions. David can tell us how he felt when he killed Goliath. Gideon tells us how he doubted God's faithfulness and how he tested him twice using a fleece. Samson tells of the day he had a haircut. Noah then relates to what it was like taking care of both his family and all the animals on board the ark for a year. Finally, Abraham comes along and points to the cross standing next to God's throne. And to God we all bow.

How the Cross of Christ levels everything and everyone! Maybe that was meant by a prophecy that in him, valleys shall be filled in, every mountain and hill brought low. The crooked ways made straight and the rough ways smooth. The gross inequality between the death of Prince Philip and the victim of Covid will be levelled off and made equal. All it takes is to believe in the Death, Burial and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and salvation will come to us all in all equality. 

Sweet and Sour News?

I believe one significant occasion took place this week which had, to my mind, split the nation between the most devout among Royalists from those who favour Republicanism. And I reckon these two groups represent the more extreme margins of our society, very much like far-right and far-left wings of the political chicken. And the wider zone in the middle, the moderates, whose opinions are diverse enough, yet not to fall into extremity.

As such, I try to imagine a scenario that might have happened if I were to visit my parents this coming Sunday for lunch (that is tomorrow from the time of writing.) Dad, seated at the head of the table and still dominating it despite his age of 95 years. I would be sitting at the opposite end, facing him, whilst Mum sat to my left and my wife on the opposite side, to my right.

Halfway through the meal, I would ask him:

Dad, how do you feel about the Duke of Edinburgh walking unaided into King Edward VII Hospital and all the publicity? 

Prince Philip in his younger days.

It would have been quite likely that he would have given a sneering expression and maybe look towards me as if his eldest son was a little addle-headed. And then proceed to answer my question by asking: 

"Why should this man be given immediate access to a private hospital on a doctor's recommendation after a few days feeling unwell, while at the same time, there are thousands of cancer and cardiac patients left out in the cold, many with symptoms remaining undiagnosed, while many others had their scheduled operations cancelled and others died needlessly due to further cancellations?"

Such an answer delivered in the form of a counter-question would have been well in keeping with my father. Both he and Mum were Labour-supporting Republicans, and therefore, having a greater concern for the welfare of ordinary people than for the privileged members of the Royal Family or for the aristocratic world.

Poor Dad! I guess that he never had a proper understanding of English love for Royalty. How willing the crowds were in standing in the pouring rain to watch the floating pageantry pass by - as the Queen sailed along the River Thames in celebration of her 2012 Diamond Jubilee. The cold, wet June weather compromising her physical comfort enough to make her look miserable as she stood with stoicism under a flimsy-looking shelter erected over the boat, The Spirit of Chartwell, while at the same time, her husband, who was also on board, picks up a bladder-infecting bug. Oh, the irony of all this! Too bad that June 3rd, 2012 was the first wet day after a fairly long spell of warm Spring sunshine.

And so, the sight would draw in a crowd of devoted subjects to both banks of the river. And despite the huge numbers - a newspaper journalist was rather shocked to see all the spectators were white and British - "The Sea of White" - as he referred to them. Although we've watched it on TV in the comfort of our home, I knew my late father well enough not to be interested in the event at all.

As Prince Philip - just a few months from becoming a centenarian - remains in hospital, really, I have absolutely no issues with him. It's my view that throughout the whole of his life, the Duke served the country very well, with full devotion to his wife. Therefore I wish him a speedy recovery and still be with us when he celebrates his 100th birthday in June. As for the Queen, I think she had done a magnificent job in servitude, her loyalty to her duty has made her be without any reproach. 

But it's the system, the height of international importance behind the huge flotilla in the Thames during a cold, wet June day that had motivated many around the globe to turn on their TVs. The crowds of English people lining the banks of the river, whose shivering bodies covered with goose-pimples under a layer of sodden clothing, the forest of umbrellas, and perhaps the imaging of a hot coffee beside a roaring fireside, had failed to quell any excitement as the flotilla slowly sailed past. What is it about the British? I may ask. Indeed, I fail to recall any other country in the world putting on a show as spectacular as this Diamond Jubilee pageantry. With the Duke's bladder suffering an infection, he was quickly rushed into the private hospital to receive treatment with antibiotics. 

However, news of the Duke's admission into hospital just this week had aroused some unease among Republicans and even moderate Monarchists alike, as I read in a forum trailing a Daily Mail article on this issue. And the reason behind their discontent was that due to the high admission rate of Covid-19 patients into NHS care, there is a large number of non-Covid patients with cancer or heart problems who are at high risk of neglect, either by their GPs not around to diagnose their symptoms, or having their operations cancelled, with others not getting any treatment at all, and therefore they had already died.

And here's my point. During the Jubilee celebrations, when Prince Philip picked up an infection, he was dealt with straight away. The same applied to this week. After feeling unwell, he was immediately admitted as a non-Covid patient.  

The start of the Diamond Jubilee flotilla.*

And I speak from experience. In 2015, I had to have an aorta valve replaced, thus open-heart surgery. But had I, for some reason, suffered a serious delay and died, the terrible distress my wife would have suffered is beyond anyone's guess. Due to her neurological disability, she most likely would have either spend the rest of her life in care or with another family - unless fortunate enough to eventually remarry.

However, in more recent years, my beloved was diagnosed with breast cancer. Fortunately, not only was her illness discovered in good time but all stages of her treatment were completed in time before the pandemic struck. That means her mastectomy, her chemotherapy and her radiotherapy all came and went smoothly without any unnecessary delays. Just in time too. Her radiotherapy ended just before the March 2020 lockdown.

It was while she was an inpatient at Frimley Park Hospital, one Sunday, when Paul, one of my closest friends, said to me that had we lived a hundred years earlier, then I would have to watch my wife's cancer worsen, suffer intense pain and then die, with no known treatment available. So powerful was the statement, that I felt emotionally crushed, from which it took days for me to recover. 

I transferred such a thought to the present. What if Alex, suffering intensely in pain, had received one letter or phone call of one cancellation after another from the NHS, along with a stream of apologies and an explanation of inability to care due to a large influx of Covid patients? Then she dies, and I had to arrange a funeral. Then, just before her funeral, news comes in that Prince Philip, at 99 years old, felt slightly unwell and a doctor recommends a visit straightaway to a private hospital. Yes, how would I feel then? And how would any relative feel after the loss of a loved one to cancer, simply because no treatment was available, due to all hospital beds are taken up by Covid patients?

For me, it's the system itself and not the people in it. I have no desire to wish anyone ill, whether a VIP or not. And here's the crunch. VIP means Very Important People. Or, in other words, the lives of some people are more worthy to receive attention and be treated than the lives of others. This cultural idiosyncrasy, in itself, can wind me up tightly, especially on the issue of life or death, but for others, it's something akin to honour and therefore have all rights for respect.

That was the sour news. Now for the sweet news.

The rate of Coronavirus infections is falling, and quite rapidly, too. And thanks to the vaccine rollout, further falls in the hospitalisation and deaths. Alex had the Pfizer BioNTech vaccine three weeks before I was offered the Oxford Astra-Zeneca jab. But we're both immunised, at least for now. A second jab will be on its way three months after.

Lately, it's been my desire to pray and ask God not to take account for the sin of this nation and for the rest of the world, but to show mercy, even if it means we Christians act as priests to intercede to God on the nation's behalf, just as the prophet Daniel did for Israel and for Jerusalem, in the Old Testament of the Bible (Daniel 9:1-19.) This is one of two of the greatest prayers, in my opinion, which is found in the Bible, the other being Abraham's, recorded in Genesis 18:16-33. Both are intercessory, the pleading to God for mercy to a sinful nation or city for both God's glory and for the righteous living within.

I sincerely believe that Christians across the land have prayed on behalf of the UK for mercy and now their prayers are beginning to be heard. The vaccine rollout seems to be gaining success, with target numbers met. Who knows, it may not be too long before my beloved wife will be called up to receive the next stage of her cancer treatment, to rebuild her breast. Meanwhile, my cardiac consultations and monitoring can resume on a face-to-face meeting rather than through those wretched telephone calls with which I can't even self-diagnose properly due to lack of training.

And the ending of this present lockdown. Something, I think, many are looking forward to. At least I am. But according to recent polls, especially on the YouGov website where I actually partook. To them, a large percentage of the British population feels it's too early to be released from lockdown. I find this unwillingness to regain their freedom quite astonishing, as many seem to lack faith or confidence in the vaccine. Yet it takes all to make a world - anti-vaxxers, anti-masks, anti-lockdowns, anti-this or anti-that - all making their own noise but getting nowhere. Why not simply plead to God for mercy and trust in His goodness?

 Buckingham Palace during the Diamond Jubilee

As I wrote above, I have no animosity towards Prince Philip being called in for observations and treatment. Nor do I have any issue with any member of the Royal Family. Perhaps much of this is due to the signing of the Magna Carta by King John at Runnymede, on June 15th, 1215. This agreement has taken absolute power away from the Monarch and bestowed all authority on Parliament, hence the beginning of democracy. It was quite likely that King John was a miserable weasel, abusing his power and therefore disliked by the people. I thank God that our Monarch is nothing like King John.

As for Prince Philip Duke of Edinburgh, I wish him a speedy recovery and to see his 100th birthday.

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*Attempts to include a picture of The Spirit of Chartwell was blocked for security reasons.

A Maverick in Oxford.

As I walked into a newsagent, I could not miss the page-size photo of Prince Philip occupying the front page of each newspaper stacked on the shelves. And not just one newspaper but at least three: The Sun, The Daily Express, and The Daily Mail, three of Britain's highest selling media. These newspapers, all of them supporting the Conservative Party holding the keys to 10 Downing Street, just poured heaps of praise to this elderly gentleman, the Duke of Edinburgh, husband to her Majesty the Queen. Just think of it: the national applause for seven decades of hard work with loyalty to his wife. Men and women across the land doffing their hats, so to speak, and taking a curtsey bow, "Well done, Sir. Your retirement is well deserved."

No doubt, at age 95, he deserves a restful retirement. True enough, in 1939 aged 18, he joined the Royal Navy and served through World War II, and remained in the Navy after the War ended in 1945. He then wound up his active service after thirteen years of military action in 1952, then aged 31, after marrying Princess Elizabeth in 1947. After this, his work consisted mainly of shaking hands with dignitaries and keeping a few paces behind his wife wherever the couple were out together in public. Not for him would "hard work" consist of lifting heavy boulders, bricklaying, cement mixing, pushing a wheelbarrow of concrete, pneumatic drilling of a hole or trench across the road, nor for that matter, rewiring a house or installing plumbing. Perhaps this could be the key to his longevity, by contrast to many labourers in the past who stepped off this planet before ever reaching seventy. Then to add to this, it takes only an infection within part of the Prince's anatomy, and the whole nation would seem to be in a grip of panic! But good for him, he has reached the middle of his tenth decade of life. A very good achievement, may I say. After all, if it wasn't for the skills of a cardiac surgeon just over two years ago, I would have considered myself very fortunate ever to reach seventy years of age, and at this time of writing, I still have over five years to go before my seventieth birthday.

Philip during his days in the Navy

The Duke of Edinburgh about to retire.

I see something of an phenomenon here. Here is a mortal who is held in very high respect, if not actually worshipped by much of the nation. So it is not much of a surprise that news of his retirement is splashed across the front pages of newspapers, such an announcement has gone far and wide across the globe. In the meantime, an unseen, anonymous luggage handler, who spent his working life ensuring that all your departing airport baggage are safely stored within the hull of the correct airline, finally reaches his moment of retirement, and yet not a single passenger would ever be aware of his special day. Elsewhere, someone may indeed bow in obeisance to the Prince, then once alone behind the wheel, inwardly curses the workman with his noisy pneumatic drill for being the cause for crawling traffic and journey delays. And just to add here, if I was present before the Prince or even the Queen herself, I would willingly bow in obeisance, as instructed by the Apostle Peter in his letter:

Show proper respect for everyone: Love the brotherhood of believers, fear God, honour the king.
1 Peter 2:17.

But as the apostle himself has instructed, the honour given to the king should never be at the expense of disrespecting men of all other social standing, or not loving fellow believers.

Yet there is this uniqueness about the human heart. After all, we may have a high regard for the Royal Family, as well as contrasting opinions for Government ministers. And as politics go, there are those who love the Tory Party and its leader and despise the Labour Party and its leader, accusing them all of incompetence. And there are those who feel totally opposite, having a preference for the Labour Party. And there are devoted Labour voters who are at present disillusioned with its leader. The same can be said about the Conservatives. Then again there is nothing new about all this. It is said that ancient Egypt, for one, exalted their Pharaoh to deification, and the divine ruler ordered his people to build a pyramid as a lasting memorial to his reign. The men who built the Pyramids were not slaves, as once thought, but paid workers. And I wouldn't put it past any of them that while Pharaoh was alive, many of the builders adored him, whilst others actually despised him, accusing him of being an equivalent of what we call a nerd or a prat today with his cruel, bullying dictatorship, as they scorned at any idea of him being divine. But these dissenters had to keep all this to themselves whilst carrying on with their work, in order to stay out of trouble.

Yet despite the mixed feelings among the ancient Egyptians, the work put in towards the king's tomb was felt generally by Egypt as a source of national security, taking in social coherence, military strength and economical stability. The presence of the king was their salvation, especially among the Pyramid builders, but also for everyone else too. As the Egyptian Pharaoh was the intermediary between the people and the heavenly realm, so it was with the Roman Caesar who was regarded as divine as well, the Emperor of Rome being the mediator between the Romans and the heavenly realm. Therefore as I see it, it cannot be a mere consequence that the Queen holds a threefold role of Head of State, Head of the Church of England, and Defender of the Faith. With being the head of the national church, history books tell us that she is the replacement of the Roman Pope as intercessor between her people and heaven. Little wonder that I have heard churchgoers say that our God is the God of England. Indeed, from Ancient Egypt, through to Rome, and onwards towards modern Britain, the need for an intercessor between the human heart and the divine realm has never seemed to have changed over the millennia.

And here lies the rub, with just a few active, church-going Christians of both past and present, fortunately not many. I am strongly disliked by them for debunking the value of Englishness, including the social class system and culture, and saying that all members of the Royal Family, along with all celebrities, and people of distinction are all mere mortals, and fulfilling all natural body functions as all humans and beasts alike do. And talking about the animal kingdom, I had to smile a couple of years back when our former Prime Minister David Cameron ignored the advice of his associates and went out to swim in the sea infested with jellyfish. Sure enough, he was stung, and he came out of the water looking and feeling like a right fool. The offending marine creature ought to have known that this particular human was the Prime Minister of Great Britain, and should have regarded him with the same respect we fellow humans had for him! But no. When threatened, the jellyfish had no alternative.

It was the same when I noticed the V.I.P. entrance to London Zoo as I walked by. This was separate from the main entrance, where the rank and file have to queue up at the ticket booths. Then I imagined the celebrity, or "very important person" - including the Queen herself, standing at the Primate cage, and watching the monkeys swinging from one branch to another in complete oblivion to her presence. Despite being our closest cousins, according to the Evolutionist, I doubt very much whether the presence of Royalty would have made any difference in the primate's behaviour. The same applies to all the animals in captivity.

To tell the truth, I find the concept of England being God's country very malodorous. There seems to be a bad smell to it. Perhaps its culture with its fanaticism for the class structure is far more tuned into the theory of Evolution, a concept borne out more from denial of God's existence, his creation and judgement, rather than from verified scientific research. Maybe as I see it, Her Majesty is more advanced in her evolution towards godhood than all of her subjects. This has allowed her to advance to the level of divinity where she can be the suitable representative on behalf of her country and its Commonwealth, by being head of the Church of England. And how parallel is all this to the lie in Eden, where the serpent offered a form of divinity to Adam and Eve if they disregard God and follow him instead?

And so as I was born into a family close if not at the bottom of the social ladder, I grew up with an independent mind, rather like my late Italian father, a Republican and devoted Labour supporter and voter, and who possibly had never properly understood why the English were so devoted to their beloved Queen. But he did have a deep respect for university graduates, especially those at Oxford and Cambridge. Maybe in those days of my boyhood, these were the only true institutions recognised for higher learning, and only a small percentage of the student population made it in. And so my father looked upon these venues with the greatest of respect.

And so as I pushed my wife Alex's wheelchair through the streets of Oxford, primarily for a combination of clothes shopping and a day out, I could not help feel somewhat intimidated by such beautiful architecture of these limestone-built colleges. But what has always struck me was that it was difficult for me to see these buildings as colleges. Instead they looked more like churches, or better still, cathedrals. And this brings me back to the Natural History Museum in the London borough of South Kensington. This is one of the most popular museums in the UK, and its architecture is not unlike one of many colleges in Oxford. But walk inside the main hall, and its interior has a striking similarity to that of any cathedral. And enthroned at one end is the statue of Charles Darwin, you could say, literally replacing the Cross of Christ.

As I stand in awe of these magnificent college buildings in Oxford, I can't help feeling small and insignificant compared to the students who are deep into their studies inside. When I was a boy, I had a longing to be a medical doctor or a journalist. Unfortunately, my slow learning at school has forever extinguished such dreams. Nowadays, as I look upon such buildings, my sense of unfulfilled dreams became more acute, and the feeling of weakness in my knees whenever a student is seen entering or exiting the college. How speechless would I have felt if one of these students, say a promising NHS surgeon or a rising writer and journalist, was to extend his hand in a friendly greeting?
 

Many Oxford Colleges resemble Cathedrals.

Today I had attended a men's half-day conference at a local church in my home town of Bracknell. The three sermons were excellent, Spirit-inspired discourses, but I wonder just how much these preaches would really be life-changing, or merely mulled over before slowly passing out of memory as the daily issues of life continues. Because in reality, it was the two breaks between sessions which held the real clue about what life in Christ is really about. Whilst most of the other men formed cliques suited to their interests, I sat alone at a nearby armchair, contemplating the street view outside. This made me think just how would I have been perceived as an individual if I held a degree. Because for some, I was no stranger, but someone well known for years, decades even, but without ever attending Grammar School and gaining a degree at university, there was little to talk about, having practically nothing in common. One Grammar School-educated graduate even felt reluctant to talk to me because, as he puts it, "We are in different circles." And I knew this English guy for as far back as 1978.

But a stranger did approach me with a genuine interest of who I am. When he mentioned his occupation relating to outdoor activities, by mentioning my hiking experiences at the Grand Canyon, we had stirred quite a conversation between us. Suddenly I felt a sense of belonging, even if he admitted that he is from South Africa. It's through this interpersonal uplift which gave fulfilment to the whole conference, rather than the preaching.

One of the sermons was about not allowing anyone to label us, except by God himself. Thus being a maverick is a good thing, a virtue. A maverick is someone with an independent mind. As I wrote I Stand Alone at Easter, I will always believe in a Thursday Crucifixion rather than on Good Friday. I will always confess the death, burial, and the Resurrection of Jesus Christ to atone for our sins, defeat death, and to give eternal life to every believer. I will always believe in Once Saved Always Saved. I will also stand up and insist that traditional Englishness is not allied with the Scriptures, neither is our national culture a mirror of the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit. On the contrary, going by what I have read and heard in the Media over the past twelve months, our national culture has a tendency to lean towards the occult - parallel to the Lie in Eden, where a false hope of deification was offered to our first parents, as such deception, at present, sending countless numbers into a lost eternity. Furthermore, I will declare the 6 x 24 hour days of supernatural Creation as historical fact, in opposition to the general held belief in Evolution as a theory. I don't care if everyone else thinks I'm a Creationist nerd and not to be taken seriously. I will always stand up for Jesus Christ and the historicity of Holy Scripture.

And I always will insist that there is nothing wrong with a man crying in public. Jesus himself did it at least twice during his ministry, and both incidents are recorded. And there is nothing wrong with two men greeting one another with a hug. Not British? Sure, but it's very beneficial to health and well-being. Yes, the preach I listened to earlier today was a confirmation of what I have suspected over the years - that I am a maverick, an independent thinker, and the consequence of this is that I have made a few enemies within the church as well as a greater number of friends.