Whilst rummaging through a bookshop in Sedbergh in Cumbria a couple of weeks ago, I came across a biography of the former Poet Laureate, the late Ted Hughes. It is entitled Ted Hughes - The Life of a Poet and was written by Elaine Feinstein shortly after the poet's death.
Ted Hughes was married to the American poet, Sylvia Plath.
It was therefore with interest that I noted an article in today's Sunday Telegraph by Mark Sanderson, writing in the Literary Life section of the Seven magazine. Having read his article, I plucked a copy of Sylvia Plath's Selected Poems (edited by Ted Hughes) from my library shelves and studied her poem entitled Edge. It commences:
The woman is perfected.
Her dead
Body wears the smile of accomplishment,
The illusion of a Greek necessity
Flows in the scrolls of her toga,
Her bare
Feet seem to be saying:
We have come so far, it is over.
On this day in 1963, one week after that poem was written, Sylvia Plath committed suicide.
How often is it that do we not listen to what people are really saying to us?
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Not Quite What the Doctor Ordered
The following was sent to me this morning. Whilst perhaps not quite what the doctor ordered, it is certainly ‘food for thought’:
After an exhaustive review of research literature, here's the final
word on nutrition and health:
1. Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than us.
2. Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than us.
3. Chinese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks
than us.
4. Italians drink excessive amounts of red wine and suffer fewer heart
attacks than us.
5. Germans drink beer and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer
fewer heart attacks than us.
CONCLUSION:
Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you!
After an exhaustive review of research literature, here's the final
word on nutrition and health:
1. Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than us.
2. Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than us.
3. Chinese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks
than us.
4. Italians drink excessive amounts of red wine and suffer fewer heart
attacks than us.
5. Germans drink beer and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer
fewer heart attacks than us.
CONCLUSION:
Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you!
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Balmy January
The bird of dawning singeth all night long
William Shakespeare
Hamlet (1601) act 1, sc. 1,
On the 7th February 2006, I entered an article on this blog entitled The Dawn Chorus (see link). I was intrigued by the fact that the local bird life had commenced its dawn chorus so early in the year.
Well, this year sees my earlier comments well and truly surpassed. For, as I write,the blackbirds have been in full melodious song for the past hour. Along with the various trees which are now in blossom, if that doesn't represent a sign of global warming, then I am not sure what does.
These may be ominous signs for many scientists. However, on a personal level, I cannot help but greet the unseasonal warmth and the earlier onset of the dawn chorus as bonuses to be enjoyed whilst one may.
William Shakespeare
Hamlet (1601) act 1, sc. 1,
On the 7th February 2006, I entered an article on this blog entitled The Dawn Chorus (see link). I was intrigued by the fact that the local bird life had commenced its dawn chorus so early in the year.
Well, this year sees my earlier comments well and truly surpassed. For, as I write,the blackbirds have been in full melodious song for the past hour. Along with the various trees which are now in blossom, if that doesn't represent a sign of global warming, then I am not sure what does.
These may be ominous signs for many scientists. However, on a personal level, I cannot help but greet the unseasonal warmth and the earlier onset of the dawn chorus as bonuses to be enjoyed whilst one may.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Research I Can Warm To
The independent food research organisation, Leatherhead Foods International, has recently conducted a study on behalf of the Countryside Alliance. The results are music to my gastronomic ears.
Apparently, there are more benefits to eating game than previously realised. Meats such as pheasant, partridge, venison and quail are not only low in cholesterol, but additionally have high levels of selenium. Selenium boosts the immune system, may have an anti-oxidant effect (good in helping to prevent cancers) and can elevate mood.
Bearing in mind that a glass or two of red wine per day is also thought to have its benefits, what better way to ward off the winter blues than to partake in a meal of game, washed down by a decent glass of claret?
I haven’t had breakfast yet…but I am already looking forward to dinner…
Apparently, there are more benefits to eating game than previously realised. Meats such as pheasant, partridge, venison and quail are not only low in cholesterol, but additionally have high levels of selenium. Selenium boosts the immune system, may have an anti-oxidant effect (good in helping to prevent cancers) and can elevate mood.
Bearing in mind that a glass or two of red wine per day is also thought to have its benefits, what better way to ward off the winter blues than to partake in a meal of game, washed down by a decent glass of claret?
I haven’t had breakfast yet…but I am already looking forward to dinner…
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Whither the Vocation?
In an increasingly consumerist society, the word vocation does not often appear in the context of everyday conversation.
The word derives from the Latin vocare, ‘to call’. It is defined as ‘a strong feeling of suitability for a particular career or occupation, especially one requiring dedication. As such, it has most often been applied to the professions and, most particularly, to the practise of medicine, the Church and other humanitarian pursuits.
Historically, a vocation has been seen as something which gives great satisfaction to the person pursuing it and equally great benefits to those on the receiving end of that person’s efforts. However, the implication has usually been that the rewards received in following a vocation are not so much pecuniary than an inner sense of fulfilment. This, of course, is precisely where the concept clashes with the modern consumerist society.
As a doctor, I am conscious of the changes which have come about over recent years in respect to the way General Medical Practitioners work. No longer do they have to be responsible for the well-being of their patients for twenty-four hours per day, seven days per week. The new GP Contract introduced a few years ago enabled GPs to opt out of ‘out of hours’ care, thereby freeing up their evenings and weekends. Of course, this was greeted with delight by the majority of GPs. We had never been properly paid for such work and now we had the opportunity to ‘have a real life’, being free to spend time with family and friends or develop other interests. Neither, of course, were we expected to work throughout the night and then go on to tackle full surgeries the following day in a state of near exhaustion.
However, I am also aware that the above welcomed changes in medical practice have brought with them a downside. Many patients will, of course, lament the passing of the twenty-four hour availability of their ‘own doctor’. However, there are downsides for the doctor as well. It was only when I was recently called on a Sunday morning by a good friend and neighbour who, living on his own, was unable to travel thirty miles to the nearest out-of-hours centre in his present poor state of health that I realised what I was missing. Having visited my friend, I was in the process of collecting some medication for him from an otherwise empty surgery in an otherwise empty market town centre, when it dawned upon me that I was actually enjoying that very process. Stopping to think about this revelation for a few moments, I realised that I missed the relative intimacy of caring for patients within their own homes, at odd times of the day and night, along with the concomitant sense of satisfaction that being able to assist someone in a time of need (for no particular personal gain other than that sense of worth) brings with it.
Summarised in one sentence, I was missing that very aspect of my work which engenders a sense of vocation.
Grayson Perry is a well known transvestite artist who, in 2003, won the Turner Prize for his work. As he was being interviewed by Melvyn Bragg on a recent episode of The South Bank Show, Perry came out with the comment “I define myself by my work.”
How true that statement must be for a great many of us.
I see a sense of vocation in many people around me and not least of all amongst those members who work, either salaried or on a volunteer basis, for the charity, The St John Ambulance. One often wonders what drives the volunteers to give up their free time, often for many hundreds of hours per year, to be available to render first aid at public events. It is the same factor which drives many of the salaried staff to put in many hours of unpaid overtime and to be prepared to give up their Christmas and New Year plans (as they were prepared to do at short notice recently) all with the aim of assisting their fellow man in need.
I believe that vocation is that sense of worth which makes our jobs, our lives and the immediate world in which we live, that extra bit special.
We do not have to be persistently driven by what is increasingly termed the disease of “affluency”. As is written in the Bible (Ephesians ch. 4, v. 1):
‘I therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called.’
One of my New Year resolutions is to re-focus on my personal sense of vocation. If you are finding your own life lacking that certain intangible factor that health, wealth and love otherwise fails to bring, then I would strongly urge you to do likewise. You may be pleasantly surprised by what you discover.
The word derives from the Latin vocare, ‘to call’. It is defined as ‘a strong feeling of suitability for a particular career or occupation, especially one requiring dedication. As such, it has most often been applied to the professions and, most particularly, to the practise of medicine, the Church and other humanitarian pursuits.
Historically, a vocation has been seen as something which gives great satisfaction to the person pursuing it and equally great benefits to those on the receiving end of that person’s efforts. However, the implication has usually been that the rewards received in following a vocation are not so much pecuniary than an inner sense of fulfilment. This, of course, is precisely where the concept clashes with the modern consumerist society.
As a doctor, I am conscious of the changes which have come about over recent years in respect to the way General Medical Practitioners work. No longer do they have to be responsible for the well-being of their patients for twenty-four hours per day, seven days per week. The new GP Contract introduced a few years ago enabled GPs to opt out of ‘out of hours’ care, thereby freeing up their evenings and weekends. Of course, this was greeted with delight by the majority of GPs. We had never been properly paid for such work and now we had the opportunity to ‘have a real life’, being free to spend time with family and friends or develop other interests. Neither, of course, were we expected to work throughout the night and then go on to tackle full surgeries the following day in a state of near exhaustion.
However, I am also aware that the above welcomed changes in medical practice have brought with them a downside. Many patients will, of course, lament the passing of the twenty-four hour availability of their ‘own doctor’. However, there are downsides for the doctor as well. It was only when I was recently called on a Sunday morning by a good friend and neighbour who, living on his own, was unable to travel thirty miles to the nearest out-of-hours centre in his present poor state of health that I realised what I was missing. Having visited my friend, I was in the process of collecting some medication for him from an otherwise empty surgery in an otherwise empty market town centre, when it dawned upon me that I was actually enjoying that very process. Stopping to think about this revelation for a few moments, I realised that I missed the relative intimacy of caring for patients within their own homes, at odd times of the day and night, along with the concomitant sense of satisfaction that being able to assist someone in a time of need (for no particular personal gain other than that sense of worth) brings with it.
Summarised in one sentence, I was missing that very aspect of my work which engenders a sense of vocation.
Grayson Perry is a well known transvestite artist who, in 2003, won the Turner Prize for his work. As he was being interviewed by Melvyn Bragg on a recent episode of The South Bank Show, Perry came out with the comment “I define myself by my work.”
How true that statement must be for a great many of us.
I see a sense of vocation in many people around me and not least of all amongst those members who work, either salaried or on a volunteer basis, for the charity, The St John Ambulance. One often wonders what drives the volunteers to give up their free time, often for many hundreds of hours per year, to be available to render first aid at public events. It is the same factor which drives many of the salaried staff to put in many hours of unpaid overtime and to be prepared to give up their Christmas and New Year plans (as they were prepared to do at short notice recently) all with the aim of assisting their fellow man in need.
I believe that vocation is that sense of worth which makes our jobs, our lives and the immediate world in which we live, that extra bit special.
We do not have to be persistently driven by what is increasingly termed the disease of “affluency”. As is written in the Bible (Ephesians ch. 4, v. 1):
‘I therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called.’
One of my New Year resolutions is to re-focus on my personal sense of vocation. If you are finding your own life lacking that certain intangible factor that health, wealth and love otherwise fails to bring, then I would strongly urge you to do likewise. You may be pleasantly surprised by what you discover.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Thought for the Day
It is almost one year since I started this blog. During that time some one hundred and forty two pieces have been posted and the site has attracted almost two thousand hits. Now, I accept that, compared to some blogs, two thousand is not a large number. However, I feel that such a number is a happy start. It is also rewarding to see that some readers stay for anywhere between 5 minutes and one hour, reading many pages at one sitting. I only wish more people would add a comment or two; feedback is always helpful and interesting to have, even if it is sometimes controversial.
The most recent problem has been finding the time to write for the blog. I do realise that writers are always making such excuses. However, I can assure you that it is true! I am reminded of a quote, although I am afraid that I cannot attribute it:
I'm just catching up with yesterday; by tomorrow I should be ready for today.
That just about sums up the current situation. However, one of the New Year's resolutions is to re-light the blogging candle. So, thank you for your interest and, in the words of a certain television programme, stay tuned...
The most recent problem has been finding the time to write for the blog. I do realise that writers are always making such excuses. However, I can assure you that it is true! I am reminded of a quote, although I am afraid that I cannot attribute it:
I'm just catching up with yesterday; by tomorrow I should be ready for today.
That just about sums up the current situation. However, one of the New Year's resolutions is to re-light the blogging candle. So, thank you for your interest and, in the words of a certain television programme, stay tuned...
Monday, January 01, 2007
Linguistic Leaders
According to an article by Michael Legat in a recent copy of the Writing Magazine (January 2007, Page 17), it is predicted that the English Language will soon contain one million words.
This compares to 100,000 words in the French language.
I will leave you to draw your own conclusions!
This compares to 100,000 words in the French language.
I will leave you to draw your own conclusions!
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
In Search of the Meaning of Christmas
Christmas – a time of excitement for children, greatly anticipated and eagerly awaited for many weeks before. For many adults too, it is a time of joy and happiness; an opportunity to excel in excess without too much of a guilty conscience: ‘well, it is Christmas,’ is the excuse all too often heard. For some, it is not the same unless as many family and friends are invited to participate in a communal festivity. For others, it is spoiled by the absence of those very same people, with new cases of depression reaching a peak during the months of December and January.
Most of these peaks and troughs of emotion are fuelled year upon year by a common falseness of expectation. Whilst Charles Dickens did much to spread the concept of what is required for that cosy traditional Christmas, much loved by the Victorians and promulgated to this day from the fronts of thousands of greetings cards, he was also responsible for building people’s expectations of what the perfect Christmas should be like; to the point whereby any lesser experience is considered to be a failure.
I often wonder whether I am a lone voice in standing out against the falseness of all we have come to expect. I would not go as far as saying that I dislike Christmas – especially as I am in the process of experiencing one of the best I can remember from within my adult phase of life. However, I can remember, since early teenage years, having a recurrent sense of unease regarding the futility of most Christmas activities. Even then, the only parts of Christmas that really seemed to hold anything special for me were those parts where I was expected to be present at the local parish church by virtue of my membership of the choir. The Family Carol Service on Christmas Eve, followed by Midnight Mass and then the Christmas Day Morning Prayer were the events which most pleased me and gave me a true sense of belonging. Everything else paled into insignificance or, at worst, became a trial of endurance.
In order for me to have an enjoyable Christmas I need to escape the commercialisation, the artificial expectations of conformity to traditions, the moral pressures to be with family and thereby suffer numerous conversations about inane subjects about which I have no interest, have probably heard many times before, and really do not want to have again.
For me, Christmas is about regaining my inner self. It is the one time of the year where I want to step away from the world in which I spend the rest of my life pandering to the needs of others. It is a period of time when I want to stop giving and instead wish, quite selfishly, to take; and what I want to take is time itself – time for physical and mental rest, time for quiet reflection, time for the re-charging of my spiritual batteries and, of equally great importance, time for the re-affirmation of my love and commitment to the person who has chosen to accompany me through the rough seas of life – my wife.
As a Christian, I do not believe that my duty of care to my fellow man is just at this particular time of year. Effectively, it is throughout the other three hundred and sixty two days of the year. The rest of the world can have its share of my time and effort after these few days are over. In the meantime, being shut away in the peace and tranquillity of the English Lakes has given me the most relaxing and regenerating Christmas I could possibly desire. For the first time ever at this time of year, I feel content and at ease, not only with myself but also the world around me.
It may not be to everyone’s desire. However, if you ever suspect that you harbour something of the same feelings, have the courage to listen to that inner voice. Stop bowing to the pressures of the masses. Make your stand: refuse to send numerous pointless cards that will only end up in a rubbish bin in a few days time. Instead, make a donation to your favourite charity. Then take yourself and the person dearest to you to wherever you think you will find the peace your heart desires. The experience will be uplifting and change your view against conformity forever after. Your true friends will understand and will still be there on your return. What is more, you will be the much nicer person for it.
I know that I, for one, will be entering 2007 re-energised and with an enhanced sense of benevolence towards my fellow man. Now, surely that has everything to do with celebrating the birth of Christ?
Most of these peaks and troughs of emotion are fuelled year upon year by a common falseness of expectation. Whilst Charles Dickens did much to spread the concept of what is required for that cosy traditional Christmas, much loved by the Victorians and promulgated to this day from the fronts of thousands of greetings cards, he was also responsible for building people’s expectations of what the perfect Christmas should be like; to the point whereby any lesser experience is considered to be a failure.
I often wonder whether I am a lone voice in standing out against the falseness of all we have come to expect. I would not go as far as saying that I dislike Christmas – especially as I am in the process of experiencing one of the best I can remember from within my adult phase of life. However, I can remember, since early teenage years, having a recurrent sense of unease regarding the futility of most Christmas activities. Even then, the only parts of Christmas that really seemed to hold anything special for me were those parts where I was expected to be present at the local parish church by virtue of my membership of the choir. The Family Carol Service on Christmas Eve, followed by Midnight Mass and then the Christmas Day Morning Prayer were the events which most pleased me and gave me a true sense of belonging. Everything else paled into insignificance or, at worst, became a trial of endurance.
In order for me to have an enjoyable Christmas I need to escape the commercialisation, the artificial expectations of conformity to traditions, the moral pressures to be with family and thereby suffer numerous conversations about inane subjects about which I have no interest, have probably heard many times before, and really do not want to have again.
For me, Christmas is about regaining my inner self. It is the one time of the year where I want to step away from the world in which I spend the rest of my life pandering to the needs of others. It is a period of time when I want to stop giving and instead wish, quite selfishly, to take; and what I want to take is time itself – time for physical and mental rest, time for quiet reflection, time for the re-charging of my spiritual batteries and, of equally great importance, time for the re-affirmation of my love and commitment to the person who has chosen to accompany me through the rough seas of life – my wife.
As a Christian, I do not believe that my duty of care to my fellow man is just at this particular time of year. Effectively, it is throughout the other three hundred and sixty two days of the year. The rest of the world can have its share of my time and effort after these few days are over. In the meantime, being shut away in the peace and tranquillity of the English Lakes has given me the most relaxing and regenerating Christmas I could possibly desire. For the first time ever at this time of year, I feel content and at ease, not only with myself but also the world around me.
It may not be to everyone’s desire. However, if you ever suspect that you harbour something of the same feelings, have the courage to listen to that inner voice. Stop bowing to the pressures of the masses. Make your stand: refuse to send numerous pointless cards that will only end up in a rubbish bin in a few days time. Instead, make a donation to your favourite charity. Then take yourself and the person dearest to you to wherever you think you will find the peace your heart desires. The experience will be uplifting and change your view against conformity forever after. Your true friends will understand and will still be there on your return. What is more, you will be the much nicer person for it.
I know that I, for one, will be entering 2007 re-energised and with an enhanced sense of benevolence towards my fellow man. Now, surely that has everything to do with celebrating the birth of Christ?
Postcard from the Lake District (3)
Christmas Day – 25th December 2006
Waking on Christmas Day morning to nothing more than the gentle sounds of wild ducks and swans, with the occasional call of a moorhen, a few gulls and the odd rook or two, must rank amongst the most idyllic moments in life. This gentle alarm call from nature is complimented as soon as the curtain is drawn back, when the gentle waters of Lake Windermere appear just fifty yards from the window. Set to a backdrop of the gently rising green fells, their tops just covered by a fine mist, and with one or two white yachts quite still at their moorings, the scene is one of tranquillity and peace.
The Lakeside Hotel commands one of the most picturesque locations on the lake. Situated on the south-western shore of the lake, just one mile north of Newby Bridge, this four-star hotel is the antidote to the fast pace of modern life. Guests have a choice of exquisitely furnished rooms or suites within the hotel itself, or can opt for one of the two Executive Lodges built within the hotel grounds but set apart from the main building and having the advantage of their own private gardens and moorings. Built in the style of a converted boathouse, the lodge in which I now write has been designed as a studio apartment, full of space, light, large picturesque windows and, yes, its own sauna.
Today, the lake is perfectly calm, thereby allowing a perfect reflection of the hills and trees in its glassy surface. Just to my left, on the opposite shore, the slopes of Gummer’s How rise away from the rest of the fells. At 1053 feet above sea level, it is the highest point in this area and, from its top, gives a commanding view of almost all of the ten miles of Lake Windermere. Indeed, when we climbed it two days ago, and despite a fine haze, we could just discern the sands of Morecambe Bay. From the same point, one could look down upon the land of the Swallows and Amazons along the lakeshore, whilst further south is Fell Foot. Now owned by the National Trust, Fell Foot was once part of a large Victorian Estate with extensive lakeside lawns and gardens.
The small, grassed garden of the lodge is like a meeting place for 'Woodland Friends'. A rabbit is usually in evidence, quietly grazing the lawn, unperturbed by our presence at the window. Just above the rabbit, on a piece of wooden fencing, sits a robin. Occasionally joined by a second robin, it flits back and forth, capturing the odd tasty meal disturbed by the rabbit. Within a few feet feed a cock blackbird and song thrush, whilst in a tree nearby, a chaffinch moves from branch to branch with a flick of white feathers.
A few miles to the south lies the village of Cartmel. Famous for its pocket-sized racecourse at which races are held on only six days per year, Cartmel is also home to Cartmel Priory. Built by Augustinian monks around 1200 A.D., the priory church survived the Dissolution of the Monasteries and now serves as a wonderful parish church, with fine Renaissance screens and delightful misericords in the choir. It is a fitting venue for the celebration of Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, as we discovered for ourselves last night. The warmth of the church itself, combined with the collective voices of a full congregation and choir, help one to touch base with the spirituality within us, reminding us as to what this time of year is really all about and building resolve for the forthcoming New Year.
With the excellent food of the hotel’s restaurant and some fine wines from its cellars (including a Chateau Chasse Spleen 1983, Chateau Leoville Barton 1993 and a Chateau Talbot 1994 and not forgetting an exquisite bottle of Tokay), accompanied by the resident pianist and a small jazz band, the celebration of Christmas 2006 will certainly leave this writer suitably refuelled with a sense of goodwill.
A very happy Christmas and healthy New Year to all my readers.
Waking on Christmas Day morning to nothing more than the gentle sounds of wild ducks and swans, with the occasional call of a moorhen, a few gulls and the odd rook or two, must rank amongst the most idyllic moments in life. This gentle alarm call from nature is complimented as soon as the curtain is drawn back, when the gentle waters of Lake Windermere appear just fifty yards from the window. Set to a backdrop of the gently rising green fells, their tops just covered by a fine mist, and with one or two white yachts quite still at their moorings, the scene is one of tranquillity and peace.
The Lakeside Hotel commands one of the most picturesque locations on the lake. Situated on the south-western shore of the lake, just one mile north of Newby Bridge, this four-star hotel is the antidote to the fast pace of modern life. Guests have a choice of exquisitely furnished rooms or suites within the hotel itself, or can opt for one of the two Executive Lodges built within the hotel grounds but set apart from the main building and having the advantage of their own private gardens and moorings. Built in the style of a converted boathouse, the lodge in which I now write has been designed as a studio apartment, full of space, light, large picturesque windows and, yes, its own sauna.
Today, the lake is perfectly calm, thereby allowing a perfect reflection of the hills and trees in its glassy surface. Just to my left, on the opposite shore, the slopes of Gummer’s How rise away from the rest of the fells. At 1053 feet above sea level, it is the highest point in this area and, from its top, gives a commanding view of almost all of the ten miles of Lake Windermere. Indeed, when we climbed it two days ago, and despite a fine haze, we could just discern the sands of Morecambe Bay. From the same point, one could look down upon the land of the Swallows and Amazons along the lakeshore, whilst further south is Fell Foot. Now owned by the National Trust, Fell Foot was once part of a large Victorian Estate with extensive lakeside lawns and gardens.
The small, grassed garden of the lodge is like a meeting place for 'Woodland Friends'. A rabbit is usually in evidence, quietly grazing the lawn, unperturbed by our presence at the window. Just above the rabbit, on a piece of wooden fencing, sits a robin. Occasionally joined by a second robin, it flits back and forth, capturing the odd tasty meal disturbed by the rabbit. Within a few feet feed a cock blackbird and song thrush, whilst in a tree nearby, a chaffinch moves from branch to branch with a flick of white feathers.
A few miles to the south lies the village of Cartmel. Famous for its pocket-sized racecourse at which races are held on only six days per year, Cartmel is also home to Cartmel Priory. Built by Augustinian monks around 1200 A.D., the priory church survived the Dissolution of the Monasteries and now serves as a wonderful parish church, with fine Renaissance screens and delightful misericords in the choir. It is a fitting venue for the celebration of Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, as we discovered for ourselves last night. The warmth of the church itself, combined with the collective voices of a full congregation and choir, help one to touch base with the spirituality within us, reminding us as to what this time of year is really all about and building resolve for the forthcoming New Year.
With the excellent food of the hotel’s restaurant and some fine wines from its cellars (including a Chateau Chasse Spleen 1983, Chateau Leoville Barton 1993 and a Chateau Talbot 1994 and not forgetting an exquisite bottle of Tokay), accompanied by the resident pianist and a small jazz band, the celebration of Christmas 2006 will certainly leave this writer suitably refuelled with a sense of goodwill.
A very happy Christmas and healthy New Year to all my readers.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
The Power of the Human Mind
I was simply astonished when I came across the following. It demonstrates how extraordinarily clever the brain is.
Try reading this without hesitating:
I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdgnieg.
The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy: it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteres be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.
Now tell me that you are not amazed!
Try reading this without hesitating:
I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdgnieg.
The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy: it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteres be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.
Now tell me that you are not amazed!
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