The Final Eleven O’Clock: Coffee Beans & A Phonecall Monday 30th June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1. Where am I?

2. What am I doing?

3. What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

1. Kitchen

2. Grinding coffee beans and finishing conv. with daughter No 1. Mutual feedback on matters retreating to housewarming

3. Thinking. Multilevel, multi subject matters…mentally multitasking: spin off matters from daut No3’s text, real-time issues raised by No1…also the excellent content of some posts on a writing blogsite I write for once a month (More than Writers) and my replies. Also mundane thoughts regarding grinding coffee beans. One bean escaped the spoon three times and needed to be hunted down and dropped beneath the spinning blades.

Feelings. Even on this final post, I’m finding it difficult to figure out what I’m feeling as opposed to what I’m thinking and doing. In conversation with No1 I did speak about my sense of social awkwardness in some moments over the past party-oriented 48 hours: a couple of friends who spent quite a bit of time ranting about subjects – including conspiracy theories - no one had asked them to comment on…and wondering how many times I have done the same thing…and wondering what that is all about? A surplus of energy? A need to speak about pet subjects? Anger? The need to be an expert? Insecurity? Or a conduit of news and views others need to hear? Where’s there a psychologist when you need one?

But how/what I was I feeling at 11 o’clock? Relatively pacific. Aware of tidal patterns and surface ripples as an analogy of friendships – each has its own rhythm.

So, I apologise for ending The Eleven O’Clock with a deliberately obscure comment about tides and ripples, but some things are best left unsaid.

What better than to close with the Wisdom of Solomon:

There’s

A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to make love and another to abstain,
A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up (!) and another to speak up,
A right time to love and another to hate,
A right time to wage war and another to make peace.

The Eleven O’Clock: Full English and Flat Whites? Sunday 29th June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1. Where am I?

2. What am I doing?

3. What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

1. The Pantry, coffee shop, Winscombe

2. Eating a cooked breakfast – not a Full English but the next size down. Convivial chat with five other late-to-rise friends after last night’s housewarming

3. Thinking: thoughts still assembling after a broken night’s sleep on a karrimat and in a sleeping bag on my back lawn watching the stars. Idyllic? No, not quite. To bed at 1am. Awake with a bad back and raging hayfever at 3am. Exercises, pee, hayfever dose, and approx. two further hours of sleep, then up at 6 with two others, cups of tea, and more chat. So…no settled thoughts, more a stream of ever-changing thoughts in conversations.

Feeling: surprisingly awake, and v. happy & relieved that the housewarming went well with friends & family. That the sun shone was a blessing.

The Eleven O’Clock: Hoovering and a Murder of Crows Saturday 28th June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1. Where am I?

2. What am I doing?

3. What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

1. Behind a vacuum cleaner

2. Pushing, pulling a vacuum around the upstairs and downstairs & listening a bit earlier to Curious Cases R4 making the case that Corvids (Crows, Rooks, Ravens, and Jackdaws) are more intelligent than children.

3. Thinking – my mind is split between working my way through umpteen chores to get the house ready for a gathering later - and crows. Also, a faint thought routine on repeat re: Jackdaws

Feeling – I’m doing ‘subordination of feelings to planning mode’, but it’s not entirely successful. I catch myself worrying mildly over pre-party stuff – will X arrive, will X, who won’t know anyone apart from me, be OK, will P and Q talk over the past amicably (!), how many bodies will require a bed for the night, will there be enough food? What if there’s far too much food? You get the picture. Fretting over all the things over which I have no or limited control…and, yes, I know, control is largely an illusion anyway, and it’s often the apparent randomness of everything where unexpected joy stems from. A verse from Proverbs comes to mind ‘lean not on your understanding but in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths’. This and similar verses have somehow become more crackly with life than ever – you know that anticipation in the air just before a thunderstorm.

Ps – note on Jackdaws. Forgive me if I’ve mentioned this before. From childhood, Jackdaws and swifts have been my favourite birds. Swifts just take it from swallows in the same way as Spitfires are just ahead of Hurricanes. And Jackdaws have had a place reserved for them for decades. And, bless my soul, if having rarely seen Jackdaws in all those intervening years, if the birds that congregate on my chimney and peck around on the roof tiles to my right, are not they! If you’re looking for proof of divinity, I doubt if this would tip you over the edge, but for me, it’s a sign of the love of God for this amateur believer.

The Eleven O’Clock: Spotify Playlist Friday 27th June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1. Where am I?

2. What am I doing?

3. What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

1. Desk, landing

2. Making a playlist on Spotify

3. Thinking: The idea of a playlist originated from a chance discovery of a short series of interviews with well-known TV and radio presenters selecting their favourite classical pieces, some of which were borrowed for the playlist. I suppose my thinking was split between my unfamiliarity with Spotify and feeling immersed, particularly, in some moving choral and other pieces, many of which I hadn’t heard before.

Feeling: as already stated a feeling of being immersed and my inner world being stretched, expanded, stilled, and stirred. Long chords; a blend of bass, tenor, alto, and soprano voices, puncturing any layabout defences. Resistance, as they say, is futile. Not because it’s impossible; futility is doing or not doing something that leads nowhere - the off button is not far away - but music that pours out of one soul is designed to crash past all our No Entry signs; it will not obey and must not. It is we who must yield, trust, and be taken to wherever we have to go.

Try Barber: Agnus Dei, Winchester Cathedral Choir if you dare

The Eleven O’Clock: Tea, toast, and Dublin, 1798 Thursday 26th June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1. Where am I?

2. What am I doing?

3. What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

1. Physically at my desk, writing and enjoying a brief break, armed with a colourful mug of Tetley tea and munching two pieces of buttered toast. Mentally, it’s dawn and I’m alone on a horse en route to Dublin in May 1798 in the form of an Irish girl with a lot on her mind.

2. Thinking. As the character, mostly thinking, dispelling anxious thoughts by forming a detailed plan of action. As the writer, weighing up what it must be like for this fictitious character to be caught in a combination of competing loyalties, and facing a very uncertain future. And wondering whether all this writing is some unconscious form of autobiography; whether the characters we form can ever be truly ‘not me? Perhaps, through our imaginations, we do invent original creations that are not us, in order to dis-cover who we truly are?

Feelings. There are times when you become immersed in a character’s mental, emotional, or spiritual state. As yet, this character isn’t pondering spiritual matters, but is thinking deeply about the various moral dilemmas she faces – one step removed from the spiritual? Her romantic feelings towards the protagonist are embryonic and subject to her other dilemmas. Whatever feelings she may have lie hidden, held just below the surface. Maybe by 11.30, I’ll be there.

I’m also aware of just how tasty the rescued bread has turned out to be when toasted.

Licking my lips.

Back to 1798.

The Eleven O’Clock ix Prosecco, Trump, and Tehran Wednesday 25th June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1.        Where am I?

2.        What am I doing?

3.        What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

1.        At my desk, on the landing, at home

2.        Multitasking – fielding texts from daut 1 and genning up on Iran’s theological/political stance and pondering the wisdom of Trump’s ‘cease fire’.

3.        Thinking

As indicated above, I’m swinging between a conversation with daughter 1 and a deeper quest to understand the theological rather than political stance of Iran that forms the foundation of the Iranian Revolution. To begin with, daughter 1. It began with a text from me asking my Prosecco expert how many bottles are required for 30 adults x 1 drink upon arrival at a party and ended up discussing how many bottles Daut 1 can safely carry riding pillion on a Yamaha 750 as she journeys down from KT6.

Whilst many will rejoice at the cessation of hostilities between Israel and Iran, I am less ebullient. This could be more than a blunder by our strange friend Mr Trump, and may represent a moral vacuum lying at the heart of the Western World, similarly to its blind and deaf policy towards the Nazi Party before the outbreak of WWII.

WWII claimed the lives of 80 million souls and 6 million Jews. Had we acted decisively in the 1930s to oust Hitler, many would still have died, but far fewer, I would argue.

I fear my children and grandchildren will look back on this moment in history in the same light. Iran has been pruned, but it will grow back, fiercer, stronger, more virulent, and waiting for an opportunity to gather strength from nations it has beguiled to continue its aim – the destruction of Israel as a prerequisite for the return of the 12th Iman, Mahdi, a Messianic figure to herald a world-wide Caliphate in which world there is no place for a Jewish State, in fact Israel’s existence is the final obstacle to the return of the Mahdi, and therefore must be destroyed.

I am not in favour of war. It is abhorrent. But sometimes it is necessary to excise an evil presence as with the Nazis in Germany and its ally, Japan, in the East. Delay cost the world an enormous loss of life.

So…at 11 o’clock this morning, I was pondering the lack of wisdom of Trump’s ceasefire.

Feeling: quite calm, a dispassionate approach to a serious issue that may yet engulf nations further afield than Iran/Israel’s immediate neighbours. And less anxiety at the prospect of the housewarming, now that the quantity of Champagne/Prosecco available for guests has been resolved.

The Eleven O’Clock viii Bread disaster?Tuesday 24th June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1.        Where am I?

2.        What am I doing?

3.        What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

1.        Kitchen

2.        Attempting to rescue a bread dough – I forgot to add yeast

3.        Thinking? I’m thinking, is there no end to my incompetence? In a rather blasé, over-confident manner, I blended my two types of bread flour, added olive oil and my secret ingredient to the warm water, but forgot to add yeast. Have had a go at adding yeast/warm water afterwards. I doubt it will work. It’s a fail-safe recipe until human frailty takes over.

Feelings? Apart from a slight sense of disappointment and curiosity about the ‘rescue’ (time will tell), my thoughts and feelings have been caught up in preparing an Amazon order full of party paraphernalia, so thinking and motivation are more apparent than emotion. Although social anxiety is waiting in the wings, and occasionally makes an untimely entrance on stage to remind me of all the things that could go wrong.

Somewhat surprisingly, the dough is rising! So, one presses on…with bread-making, party planning, and all the rest of the TTD (things to do) list. Some of its items are written down, whereas others, unwritten, including the latest developments in the Jerusalem/Tehran/Washington conflict, are not. These thoughts take time to settle within, to create thoughts, and thoughts to create prayers. We often say what goes up must come down; it’s equally true to say what goes in must come out. I wonder if you have found that to be true with the Middle East, the impact of everything since the Hamas attack until now has gone into your heart. I wonder in what form it has come out?

The Eleven O’Clock vii Dinosaurs in a Graveyard Monday 23rd June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1. Where am I?
2. What am I doing?
3. What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

1. Congresbury – St Andrew’s graveyard

2. Traipsing round St Andrews church, orchard, gardens, and graveyard with two grandchildren. E is pointing out the letter E on gravestones and asking deep questions, and JJ is content distracting himself with important tasks such as lifting up flower holders and looking through the holes

3. Apart from debating within myself, what are the appropriate boundaries to put in to show respect for graves, and yet encourage grandchildren explore, I am having to try and explain ultimate questions of life and death as well as play ball and crack open apples to see if the pips are white or brown. Everything is oriented around the grandchildren.

4. Feelings? Bit worried at one point that I will run out of ideas to entertain E & JJ and they will inevitably get tired, bored, hungry, and irritable. Saved by noticing a text from mum saying food and drink in the bag. Sense of relief as I dug out breadsticks, apples, and – apparently – a very hungry dinosaur. Life is simple, really. When you are two or three.

The Eleven O’Clock vi Cheddar Baptist Sunday 22nd June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1. Where am I?
2. What am I doing?
3. What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

1. Third of four rows from the back of Cheddar Baptist on the left-hand side

2. Listening to a sermon with one ear and trying to decode what the preacher was trying to convey, in general and personally

3. In terms of the sermon, his aim seemed to be to distil a common theme from three very different bible passages: how to maintain our differences, as believers in Christ, without withdrawing from society, even if it means not conforming to the values and beliefs of society. True freedom. So I’m trying to decode his more poetic way of communication in contrast to the more expositional teaching I’m used to.

Feeling. It’s nearly 3 months since I moved to Winscombe. Every so often, I get waves of ‘the new boy’ syndrome. This morning was like that. After the service, I was involved in a number of conversations, but at 11, social confidence was running on empty.

p.s. U.S. bombed Iran’s nuclear facilities overnight. It was coming. Maybe the potential for that conflict to spill over into other nations is on all of our minds, even if it’s held at the periphery of conscious thought.

The Eleven O’Clock v Dublin 1798 Saturday 21st June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1. Where am I?
2. What am I doing?
3. What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

1. On the landing, at my desk, windows open

2. Apart from typing this, I’m eating two pieces of toast – jam and marmalade, downed with a cuppa Tetley

3. I’m thinking about writing. To do that, I have to do some time-traveling, back to Dublin in 1798 in the smouldering pre-uprising heat of the Irish rebellion. And within that context, to move person A and person B around. Writing, I have found, is more like watching a film unfold in real time than planning too far ahead. By the end of today, or maybe early next week, I may have discovered how the novel ends, but for NOW, by now I mean the Tuesday after Easter 1798, person A has to brew some coffee on a riverbank and greet his work colleagues as if nothing is out of place. It’s all smoke and mirrors. Beyond Dublin, there are other thoughts, some continuous, but all are relegated to wherever the back of one’s mind lurks.

By the end of today, or maybe early next week, I may have discovered how the novel ends

Feelings? Not entirely settled. If the writing goes well, I will be absorbed in that other world with its feelings, its hopes, dreams, horrors, fears and so on. Until then, the things that may retreat to the back of my mind are not there yet. Mild anxiety in various forms over organising a social event next Saturday. Also a surprising burst of Strava joy that informed me that I had run far faster than I had thought earlier this morning to avoid the heat later in the day.

The Eleven O’Clock iv Not Filling a Kettle Friday 20th June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1.        Where am I?
2.        What am I doing?
3.        What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

Post Four:

1.        Home.
2.        The literal answer: deciding it’s too late to fill the kettle, get wallet, phone, Amazon Return package sellotaped, sandals on, ready to walk to the PO and then to local barbers for 11.30 cut.
3.        Partly thinking how mundane today’s post will be and whether it’s OK to divert from a strict adherence to 11 o’clock on the dot? Replacing ‘deciding not to fill a kettle’ with describing my ‘fields and footpaths’ walk earlier in the morning. All that did serve to remind me that I don’t spend all my time in my rational mind, thinking, but, like Mary the mother of Jesus, and like all of us, I suspect, I also ponder things in my heart.

Feelings. If we are body, soul, and spirit, then ‘feeling’ can be through our physical senses – and I was feeling hot; it’s a muggy morning. Or we can ‘feel’ with our emotions – and I was on a fairly even keel. quite tranquil. Or we can ‘feel’ or sense spiritually – and I think, spiritually, I was taking a nap, having had an earlier workout listening to another Inspired podcast with Simon Guillebaud, this time interviewing Shane Taylor, an ex-violent man, often in prison, who was transformed after, in his words, Jesus walked into his life.

The Eleven O’Clock iii Thursday 19th June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1. Where am I?
2. What am I doing?
3. What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

Post Three:

1. Home, in the kitchen.

2. Kneading dough – half wholemeal/half white bread flour + secret ingredient. Washing up & making cup of tea, white no sugar

3. Various overlapping thoughts playing in my mind, bit like a jazz band, each taking turns for solos. New lounge carpet fitted yesterday, so am thinking about next steps. Also listening to the story of Emma Scrivener, an ex-anorexic sufferer, on Inspired podcast with Simon Guillebaud. Earlier this morning walked/ran from Winscombe hill to Crook Peak and back listening to the podcast, so thoughts are rippling out during the day. During that walk/run had an unusual burst of re-imagination about Eden, amused how deep our preconceptions are – there’s no red apple in Genesis. Nor, as far as I know, is there any art that depicts Eden in anything less than a sunny day? I feel a poem brewing.

But how do I feel? Quite light. As if I have freedom of movement, like a fish in the sea. Thursdays have, since last September, been a tutor-oriented day. Morning and afternoon prep for 3 hours of 1:1 Chemistry. But now A-Level and GCSE exams are almost finished, I’m like a puppy off the leash, even if ‘freedom’ means the freedom to attack neglected chores. And eating fresh bread with butter and jam.

The Eleven O’Clock ii Wednesday 18th June, 2025

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1.        Where am I?
2.        What am I doing?
3.        What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

 Post Two:

1.        Ripley Antiques and Coffee Shop in hot & sunny Axbridge
2.        Sitting outside on the square, suncream on, waiting for food and drink for L & A & me
3.        Various scenarios about the house I have looked round with L&A e.g. refurbishing costs…feeling that they need to act quickly or someone else will nab it. Lurking behind this conversation are some deeper notes: personal rumblings, and international concerns connected to Israel/Iran

The Eleven O’Clock

Each day for the remainder of June, I’ll post The Eleven O’Clock and aim to answer the following three questions in short sentences and/or very short paragraphs.

1. Where am I?
2. What am I doing?
3. What am I thinking about and feeling?

Of course, I would welcome any comments, humorous, poignant, serious, or otherwise.

Post One:

1. Physically, at my desk at home, in Winscombe. Mentally, in Dublin, 1798.
2. Writing a tense scene for the sequel to my debut novel, due out later this year.
3. Thinking about the plot, how to get everyone from A to B, and their innermost hopes and fears. This has the delightful escapist side-effect of temporarily delivering me from giving undue attention to personal thoughts or feelings.

Two of My Favourite Things…but I’m not happy!

In front of me are a few items that have made it to my desk: a baseball, a rubber egg, a pile of old car tax discs, a Union Jack, three small champagne candles, a small clay pipe, and a photo of my daughters.

All these things carry associations that represent their true value to me, like Oscars for Oscar-winning performances. This post, however, concerns two of my favourite things at loggerheads with each other. One is threatening to evict the other, whilst the other claims to hold the moral high ground, heels firmly dug in.

I’m talking about (i) a log burner, and (ii) jackdaws.

I can’t remember when my love of jackdaws settled in my thoughts. Maybe a long-forgotten story from childhood, but through all the years in Kent, Exeter, then Bristol, I rarely, if ever, saw a jackdaw. Having recently moved to lovely Winscombe, I can’t say I’m tripping over jackdaws, but I do see some every day. And it makes me ridiculously happy.

Alongside jackdaws in the corvid family also lie crows and rooks. Fascinating as these clever birds are, it is the jackdaw that has lodged itself deeply in my affections.

The problem is that they are equally deeply lodged in the chimney; a nest of noisy Jackdaw chicks keeping their parents busy. Am I happy about this?

The truth is I’m torn.

My lounge has now become the dumping ground for large coils of elephant trunk-like chimney lining and a log-burner that can’t be installed pending the fledgling of all the young jacks…which could take over a month from now.

My other favourite thing is, of course, the log burner; a multifuel burner which has in-built ‘diversification’ wisdom…in case gas becomes hyper-expensive. I can incinerate just about anything and stave off hypothermia, but that’s not why it’s on my favourite’s list. I find that, even amongst avid environmentalists such as I, we all relish a ‘proper fire’. Who gathers round a pilot light in a boiler to watch the paltry flame? No one. We all like the combination of flickering flames, direct heat, crackling of burning wood, pulling the handle to open the grate, and feeding the flames with fresh wood.

So, I will have to just sit it out. The Jackdaws have legal protection and are staging a noisy sit-in. and the log-burner will have to learn the art of patience.

As will I.

Dad-daughter 10K challenge 2024-2025…Post X11 May 11th 2025 Final Post: Bristol 10K

The day has finally arrived. The Bristol 10K start was 8.30 a.m. and Rachel, in London, ran an equivalent 10K around Hackney’s Victoria Park at 10.45.

The culmination of our dual efforts to prepare for a 10K in 2025.

All along, the aim was to be a provocation to each other. Maybe a better word, though too mushy, is an ‘encouragement’, especially in the darker and colder wintry months.

Yes, I will report our separate times innabit, but there’s more to running than the Sports watch strapped to your wrist, or, in my case, Strava on mobile, stuffed in pocket.

The Bristol 10K is like a mass gathering of eagles or vultures (take your pick) diving on their prey. More than ten thousand descend on the city centre, streaming from all points of the compass, with running numbers and Zone colours safety pinned to running vests and t-shirts.

Not sure why, but I was placed in the faster Orange Zone, so spent the whole 10K being overtaken by faster runners rather than overtaking. You’ll hear many telling the same story that ‘adrenaline on the day sees you round’ or ‘the atmosphere is so great, you get carried along by the cheering crowds’; I don’t want to douse these descriptions in cold water, but when you’re struggling to keep going after 7K (like me) cheering crowds such thoughts, I found, are pushed to the rear of one’s consciousness!

The weather has been stupefyingly wonderful throughout April and May. Wall to wall sunshine. But that meant, even by 8.30, it was rather warm. Too warm perhaps…but even warmer in Hackney when Daut 3 set off.

Stats

Dad: 59.50

Rachel: 57.08

So, hats off to Rachel! And to her the bragging rights belong!

However, I’m rather chuffed. My three aims (i) run without stopping (ii) under my age (iii) under 60’ if possible.

If you’re thinking I waited under the finishing gantry to just shave the 60’ mark…nope. Anyone watching would have seen a different story etched on my sweaty brow.

My ‘no beer, no bread’ fast is over. A cold Guinness was had upon reaching home

My ‘no beer, no bread’ fast is over. A cold Guinness was had upon reaching home.

Cheers, everybody! I’ve enjoyed seeing how widely spread these bog-posts have been read, and I hope you’ve been entertained and, just maybe, they’ve pushed you to find those old trainers and give a Parkrun a go, or a local 10K…or further.

The final word, though, I will give to Eric Liddell, the athlete who starred in the 1981 film Chariots of Fire – I can only very faintly add my Amens:

‘I believe God made me for a purpose, but He also made me fast! And when I run I feel His pleasure’

“Out! Out! Out!” Anti-Hamas Protests in Gaza bring some hope.

It is 8am on Thursday morning. I have just returned from a morning walk across fields and footpaths. It was full of beauty and charm, but surprisingly cold, and I’m downing a cup of tea to warm up and have two jumpers on.

During the walk, I listened to Saturday’s edition of BBC Radio 4’s From Our Own Correspondent. The main report was from Gaza and Israel, and it gave me a glimmer of hope that this ghastly and grisly conflict might be drawing to a close.

The report was classic BBC. It told a fundamental truth wrapped up in an editorial attempt to be unbiased. It failed, and thankfully so, because the comparisons between Israel and Gaza proved to be compelling rather than the similarities.

The premise for the programme was to compare and contrast the protests in Israel with those in Gaza. In Israel, mainly in Tel Aviv, street protests against Netanyahu’s military strategy call upon the government to do everything to return the 59 hostages remaining in Gaza. In Gaza, there are now also anti-Hamas protests, demanding Hamas to relinquish their grip on power, shouting “Out! Out! Out!” referring to Hamas not the Israeli Defence Force (IDF) Hamas' iron grip on Gaza is slowly slipping as residents protest - Hamas' iron grip on Gaza is slowly slipping as residents protest - BBC News

The comparison between the protests in Israel and Gaza, however, highlights the truth, that Hamas is a cruel and heartless organisation that is not only responsible for the despicable atrocity on Oct 7th, 2023 murdering unarmed Israeli civilians in a kibbutz and at the Nova music festival, but intimidating its own population, suppressing dissent through imprisonment, torture, and murder. Israel, by contrast, is a democracy and dissent and public protest carries no threat of false imprisonment, torture, or elimination.

Gazan’s, once too afraid to speak against Hamas, are now doing so, so desperate are they to end the suffering brought on their heads by Hamas’s attack and subsequent declaration of intent to repeat such attacks, continuing rocket fire into Israel, resisting the IDF, refusal to return the hostages, and, ultimately, their refusal to lay down their weapons, surrender, and leave.

But now, Gazan’s are rising against Hamas, I might have grown cold on my walk, not having taken a jumper, but my heart and blood, chilled by events in Gaza and Israel, has begun to thaw.

Hamas, as I have written before, should hang their heads in shame and leave Gaza

Hamas, as I have written before, should hang their heads in shame and leave Gaza. Whether or not one believes in the Palestinian cause, their actions on Oct 7th and since then disqualify them from holding power. They must go. And all the hostages must be returned. Iran, which has funded and backed Hamas, is primarily responsible for rebuilding Gaza, but its poisonous anti-Israeli policies preclude it from any political process in Gaza after the war.

The lie undermining the Palestinian cause is that the only way to achieve justice is to oppose Israel, politically and militarily. The bible, however, teaches a different course altogether…and one that takes enormous faith.

To Abraham, God said:

‘I will make you a great nation…I will bless you…and you shall be a blessing, I will bless those who bless you and curse him who curses you’ Genesis 12v1-3

Is Israel perfect? No. Is it a hostile neighbour? Yes, some groups within Israel are like Nabal, Abigail’s husband, a scoundrel, evil and wicked (1Sam 25) and who view the Palestinians as impediments, obstacles in their way to recreate an Israel that mirrors the shouts of pro-Palestinian marchers ‘From the River to the Sea’.

Nevertheless, the word of God slices through all these objections and places a challenge at the door of Palestinians, Tehran, Damascus, London, and Washington: ‘Will you bless Israel or curse Israel?’

In conclusion, my heart was warmed. Some hope again circulating in my body and mind that the present conflict will end. Hamas has to go. But what will replace them? And what spirit will inhabit them? What attitude will they have towards Israel?

On that hinges the future of Palestinian prosperity and Palestinian-Israeli relations for the next generation.

Do they want God’s blessing or Tehran’s?

Dad-daughter 10K challenge 2024-2025… Post X1 May 4th 7 days until Bristol 10K 11th May 2025

Today my mind is elsewhere. Daughter 2, not Rachel, is getting married and I need to be in the right place at the right time later this morning, all suited and booted.

Nevertheless, with a week to go until the Bristol 10K, I can file perhaps my final Dad-daughter post until the post-10K report next Sunday.

I have no Rachel data to share, but did meet up with her and the rest of the family involved in the rehearsal yesterday and can report that she looks far more athletic than I.

‘Perception is reality’ is one of those phrases that out there that the unthinking nodding masses who delight in traversing life without stopping to ponder…Oh Dear! Grumpy old man speech underway, beware. Of course, there is some truth in such a statement; ‘mind games’ in sport is big business even if wrapped up in more professional speak as ‘Sports Psychology’.

On a very amateur level, we all know how true this is. Even the bible says in a note of reality ‘as a man thinks so he is’.

For me, the last week is a case in point. Whether I have been hiding a distracting set of emotions in the build-up to daut 2’s wedding or not, I don’t know, but what I do know is that I haven’t managed to complete a mid-week run, pulling up from a 10K after 6K and after 4K in a 5K run.

And yesterday, after halfway round the Parkrun, my mind and body were presenting every good reason under the sun why I should stop and slope off home.

Fortunately another voice prevailed which went something like ‘In a week, you’ll be running a 10K…you can’t cave in after a measly 2.5K…get a move on’. Maybe it was Mr Tutt, my old sergeant-major school PE teacher, back from the dead, but it worked…I did make it to the end.

Perception is reality - is it?

I was sure it was an embarrassingly slow time considering I have the 10K next week…but to my delight it was better than feared at 28:26….AND I’d like you to know, I was 1st in my age category! There were 6 of us stumbling round old enough to know better.

So…is perception reality? I thought I’d run out of gas. I also thought I was running slower than 30’ for 5K.

All one can really conclude, is that I’m loosing my grip on reality…but then a proud dad about to give away his daughter is surely entitled to some inner-entropy!

Dad-daughter 10K challenge 2024-2025…Post X 21st April 2 weeks + 6 days until Bristol 10K, 11th May, 2025

Since my last report, in which I seem to remember committing to run 10Ks every other day, nine days have passed.

The purpose of this post, therefore, is to maintain personal motivation through public accountability and possible humiliation.

Thus far:

Strawberry Line (South)15th April 10.06 km in 57:22

Strawberry Line (North) 17th April 10.02 km in 62:15

Strawberry Line (North) 20th April 9.02km in 54:04

A commentary

Yes, you needn’t say anything. Again, I’m getting worse the more I plod/run…’training’ is an exaggeration. But hang on, the truth is stranger than the data.

Run 1. After about 3K Strava is sent into the nether world of the Shute Shelve tunnel, and at pre-dawn, it is ink-black and I’m reduced to walking for fear of tripping over and making more of a fool of myself than running through a pitch-black tunnel in the first place. SO…the 57 minutes is as accurate as counting the number of humpback whales in the Atlantic, or predicting the length of a Premiership football match after VAR officials have read through the FA Handbook on handball…

Run 2. Strava is clever. This was ‘moving time’. I stopped, or was stopped, arrested by a tree here and a gate there gorgeously painted by the soft-dawn rays. Photos followed. Actual time was longer. But I’m unlikely to stop to take photos during the Bristol 10K. Am I?

Run 3. Was going well, or so I thought. But I conked out at 9K, having felt weary for the previous one or two kilometres.

‘If I was a betting man’ - I’m restricted to the Grand National and The Masters in some years, and rarely win a penny - I’d think twice before betting on myself to break 60 minutes, but I’ll give it a go.

The Bristol Course looks mean. That ‘orrible hill near the end and city-centre cobbles are designed to inject despondency and despair as the clock speeds up and the feet slow. Maybe that’s all in the mind? Well, maybe. But it’s in my mind.

Rachel…has gone to ground. Her previous recorded 5K at 26:44 equates to approx. 10K pace of 53:30 is far too fast, and my fears that she has peaked too soon…are impossible to verify. The latest press release from the R Training Camp is that her 2025 10K event will not be the Bristol…we await news.

The theory that Dad’s ‘every-other-day’ commitment to running 10Ks has rattled the young pretender is definitely worthy of further investigation.

For now, all I shall do is continue to plod up and down the Strawberry Line in hope that mind and body might talk to each other and cheer each other on.

Podcasts have included: Elizabeth Day’s How to Fail with Sally Philips was excellent…funny and honest. David Pawson’s Unlocking the Bible on John’s gospel was really good. And I quite like listening to Alistair Campbell and Rory Stewart as they squirm in the Trump era on The Rest is Politics.

Two weeks and six days.

Oh boy!

How to Eat a Hot Cross Bun

You might contend, with deep conviction, that there is no manual, no dictate, no regulation, or statute that exists to distinguish between those who know how and those who do not know how to eat a hot cross bun.

 But, if you are one of those who know how, then you are compelled by an equally deep conviction to share your knowledge gleaned from those who have gone before with those who do not.

 This distinction is on a par with those whose toes curl if milk is added after the tea is poured or are troubled by fellow travellers who care not to use a fork when with cake, or who’s inner peace is disturbed if male MPs enter the chamber unadorned with a jacket, or worse, lacking a tie.

Here are the twelve members of the Hot Cross Bun jury:

1.        Eat only hot when still springy – they are not fit for use as shot putts or cannonballs

2.        Employ your best blade to slice each bun accurately into two halves – ensuring that both sides are toasted at the same rate. Incongruency is disappointing

3.        Discard the grill in favour of a toaster – the horror of uneven, burnt, or worse, an underdone hot cross bun is more avoidable with using a toaster

4.        Toasted hot cross buns are to be caught mid-air as they are propelled vertically, perfectly toasted, from the toaster

5.        Butter always; other spreads are banished and not even to be mentioned

6.        Generosity is compulsory, especially in the butter department. The added slab of butter has to be thick enough so you can watch it melt. Thin-spread instantly-melted butter is not a thing of beauty

7.        No talking. If you are in the company of others, they must abide by this rule. Eating whilst eyes are closed is worthy of bonus points

8.        Jam is contentious. Applications to use jam should be lodged with the master or mistress of ceremonies well in in advance of entry into the toaster

9.        Never repair the hot cross bun so that it resembles a bun. This is a strictly ‘two-halves’ ritual

10.   The final bite should be savoured whilst there is sufficient heat in the bun to keep the butter melted

11.   The purpose of eating a hot cross bun is to enter into prayer, meditation, peace and stillness. By all means sit in a church pew and do likewise, but once you have permitted yourself hot-cross-bun-time, church can travel with you

12.   Hot cross buns only taste of hot cross buns in the run up to Easter. If you don’t know why, there are no words

If you are looking at the members of the jury, wondering whether the judge will take a majority vote, please be advised that eleven out of twelve simply will not allow you to graduate from the do not know hows to the know hows.

Standards must be maintained.

The 2026 examination season starts, as in previous years, on Ash Wednesday, the day after Shrove Tuesday, otherwise known as Pancake Day. ‘How to Eat a Pancake’ will follow shortly