On religious intolerance

Birthday gifts

If all goes to plan and they succeed in getting to Luxembourg for the funeral on Saturday, the boys will be away for Ann's birthday. So when they came round last night to collect Edwin's passport and funeral garb for their trip tomorrow, they also brought Ann's birthday present, insisting she could open it while they were there. It was a gift of three of her favourite wines, each attached to a gift wrapped book relevant to the region or type of wine. That was so thoughtful, and we both look forward to reading their selection.

Priti Patel, the Home Secretary, a woman of exceptional talent and ability, has reminded an opposition member in the House that she was all too well aware of religious prejudice, having been subjected to Paki-bashing at school, and having to fight her way up a very difficult ladder to succeed. This type of prejudice is all too apparent in films such as East is East, and Blinded by the Light.

Some while ago, Edwin and I were invited to the Royal Society of Medicine to see a presentation to the neurosurgeons who had treated Malala following her severe head wounds. We had the privilege of meeting Malala, the activist for female education and youngest Nobel Prize laureate, with her parents, and also a representative from the Pakistani embassy who gave a glowing presentation about his country, leaving us tempted to visit. Her "crime" was to believe something others did not - in this case, that girls should recieve an education.

Malala at the RSM

As a medic, I have had to work with people of many different nationalities, and generally people are no more nor less varied in one culture as they are in another, whatever their racial characteristics, or what beliefs they cling to. As has been stated many times, it is not differing religions or race that trigger hatred, but intolerance of those who are different. The current unrest and protests round the world against racial discrimination led us to think about aggressiveness in general, so much of which is driven by religious intolerance, examples of which abound.

The nature of being a spiritual person is not how we worship, or who or what we worship, but to acknowledge that there is some power beyond that which can be seen. I am not particularly religious, but would describe myself as spiritual. Girders in the Sand presents a picture of the evolving god. As the elements are beyond their components of protons, neutrons and electrons, so are the proteins, genes and chemistry above them in variety and form, and the living cells are above them in complexity as individuals are above the cells that compose them. So an evolving god is as much beyond anything that can be imagined as human societies are beyond the individuals that comprise them.

We can but approach the unknowable through human representations: Jesus, Allah, Jehovah, Budda - all figures suggesting something beyond imagination. Religious wars and intolerance are fights against human imagination, therefore against ourselves. Yet beyond this, something remains - beyond our power of thought, yet drawing us forward, through music, art and architecture to something beyond ourselves. Perhaps then, when we see the unity of all things, racial and religeous intolerence will fade away.

A funeral is announced

On Monday, after the news came to us of Colin's death,  we broke the house arrest imposed by this totalitarian regime and drove to Cambridge for a meal with the boys. Edwin had been to three shops to get the ingredients so he and Andre could prepare something special. They even bought in two bottles of Pinot Gris, a wine favoured by Colin, so we could toast his memory. We took the dogs in the car, and walked them in the local park, though they were not allowed in the apartment. We celebrated well, and got home about 1am without being stopped by police. What sort of state are we living in when free adults are forbidden by law to use common sense and take small, calculated risks?

Can it be but two days of grief? The hours seem longer. Today came messages from Kate and Teen, Colin's sisters, and a direct call with his daughter, Sarah. Following Luxembourg custom, the cremation has already taken place, but no one including family is allowed to attend. Instead, they are given the ashes soon afterwards. The interment of the ashes will take place in the woods above Roodt-sur-Syre on Friday, attended only by his wife Ann, the two children Sarah and Tom, and the parish priest. Sarah and Tom were able to travel out from England on Friday, but they both still hold Luxembourg passports and speak fluent French, which helped their passage across the border. On Saturday, a memorial mass will be held, for unlike in England, conditions in Luxembourg have been eased and churches are not closed to grief or silent reflection on a passing life, unlike here where the church remains barred and I had to spend a quiet moment in the ruined priory again.

Edwin has announced that he is determined to travel to Luxembourg to represent us at the service. He intends to travel by Eurostar, hoping to persuade the authorities of the essential nature of his journey. Now, he is coming over with Andre to collect his passport and funeral attire. He has a letter stating that theirs is an essential journey, so now they have booked their rail tickets and car hire. Hotels in Luxembourg also are open for business, so they have booked that too and will stay two nights over there. He has never driven abroad before, but Andre still has his Brazilian licence, so they've booked the car in his name.

It was good to see them again, though so briefly as we passed the things to them, including the loan of my black tie. If anyone can make it through the bureaucratic jungle of restrictions, it will be Edwin, so we wish him safe journey.

The Day is Dimmer Now

Colin Buckland
 8th June 2020

He was a good man
never raised his voice
or had an evil word to say
walked not in fear of God
but holding God's great hand
not lighting a flickering candle
but one almighty flame
which rose unto God's heaven
in Colin's blessed name

Annie Elliott

My eyes are smarting still, unable to contain the welling tears. The man I have known for nearly 60 years has left us. We met on the first day of term at our new university, both reading physics, both making a bee line to sign up for the sailing stand. At 18, neither of us could sail, but went each week determined to practice, and to learn the hard way through many capsizes. We shared flats together in London for our three years together, and his home, first in Watford, then the IoW when his parents retired there, became my own. We were still sailing together until Ann and I sold our last boat.

The news came through this morning at 8:15, within half an hour of his death.

Even the dogs sense the loss, sitting at my feet with ears laid back, tails low and eyes heavy, pawing their sympathy as though sensing grief. Excepting my brothers and his sisters, with our parents passing we became the two who had known each other longest. Closer than a brother, he was my best friend and  utterly dependable and honest, ever in good humour, with a ready song or poem to his lips to entertain or lift our hearts. He had the joy of knowing from an early age what he wanted to do with his life: become a teacher, first at a school in Sierra Leone where he met his wife, Ann, then in Cambridge, finally at the European School in Luxembourg where he worked until he retired. He was one of those rare people who did exactly what he had set out to do: help youngsters to delight in learning so that, whatever their own vocation, they might reach their potential with a love for science and the curiosity and wonder it engenders.

Music was his other great love and passion, winning many eulogies for the work he did in founding and supporting local choirs in Luxembourg. Ann and I met up with him in Edinburgh soon after we started our lives together in Saltburn, when he and his choir went to the Festival to present the world premiere of a St Andrew's Mass they had written. We had little money then, and slept on the kitchen floor of the apartment they had rented. People kept coming through in the morning, stepping over us to make drinks.

Now, we wished to light a candle and add a prayer in his memory, but the churches are locked as though the state is trying to suppress religious freedom. We went therefore to the Marian Shrine at Clare Priory, which is an ancient wooden building with open timbers to one side, only to find they have added a glass protecting wall across it, and the ancient interior is being decorated, so all chairs and candle stands were gone. We therefore went into the ancient ruins where the alter still stands open to the air, and there in an ancient niche we placed our candles out of the wind and stood in silent, prayerful memory to a great man. The world is darker now, the silence lies more heavy by his going.

The Marian Shrine being refurbished

Lighting candles to Colin at Clare Priory

News from abroad

Susan enjoying freedom in her kayak

I started a new job last week, which is fulfilling but stolid, lacking the electrifying moments that might satisfy an avid reader. Therefore, lacking much of excitement in our own lives, I am today reflecting the lives of two friends of ours in Australia whose wedding we attended, already seven years ago. They send sympathies on hearing of our lockdown; they are now free to go anywhere within Queensland, but not to cross the state line. It's autumn there, and Susan describes it as a magical time, when the weather cools and the skies are a brilliant blue. They have a large house set in wide grounds with a stream at the bottom, that seems to border on raw jungle.

Having no good pictures of my own recently, I am putting two of theirs in. Susan is a keen kayaker, and is now able to get out again for solitary paddles, though her all-time favourite sport is dragon boat racing. Brian has been planting their extensive gardens with exotica, including a banana tree which this year produced its first fruit. He was proudly filmed wielding a machete to cut the first harvest. He is a keen volleyball player, so I suspect the machete forms a close substitute until he can smash a ball again.

Brian harvests his bananas

Kate, the sister of my friend Colin in Luxembourg rang to update us on his condition. He has Alzheimer's and had to be moved to a home, for his wife Anne is near 80 and lacked the strength to support him any longer. He recently had a fall with a fractured hip, so has continued to deteriorate since then, and the news is that his two children have now gone out to be with him. I have known him for nearly 50 years, and he was Edwin's godfather, so we feel the pain and anxiety greatly.

Encouraged by a bit of improvement, I am starting another painting, this time of Freddie Mercury. He is one of my favourite singers, though I came to him late, and was inspired by the recent film, Bohemian Rhapsody. I have even been emboldened to buy some more paints and fine detail brushes, and will put the final effort on line when it's done for all to share.

LATE UPDATE: Unhappy further news from Luxembourg. Our friend Colin's children had to drive there, arriving late last night, because there is no air traffic. Colin has now received the last rites. We will be unable to attend the funeral, but Edwin and Andre may be able to go to represent us.

A new picture

With dogs on path to Lavenham

Ann walked with me yesterday to exercise the dogs. We aimed for our old haunt, The Swan, but turning in the car park was full with double parking, and the field behind had been roped off. Nick, the manager, came out as we were struggling to turn round and said everyone had been using it to visit Clare, so he'd roped it off because he wanted to mow the grass. We then moved on to Rodbridge, but this too was packed with many picnickers spreading over the whole area. Finally, we went to one of the garden centres in Long Melford, parking at the very far end away from the shoppers, where there is a lovely path to Lavenham, several miles away.

In the evening we had another quiz, presented by Lucia. She chose some good questions, covering the wide range of ages and knowledge, and about 11 of us took part.

I've been getting some bad cramps recently, so in an attempt to stop it I have given up alcohol at present, so was drinking juice. I won't pretend it is easy: I miss my wine and whisky. However, I have abstained for three days and thus far it is working; I have been free of cramp for three nights. I will keep it up for a bit longer and see if it continues to help.

We had a lot of junk from clearing the garage to make a studio that had been cluttering outside, but I'm not allowed to go to the tip whilst in isolation, so when Mary Anne and Sam came round again for a chat and shopping they took it to the tip for us. I finished another painting today, this time of Lucy and Edwin when he was new born. It took some time to paint, and shows some improvement, but Lucy's hair is fine and long, with subtle waves and colouring. It would need a Pre Raphaelite to capture it well and I will never do it justice, but I keep making the attempts.

Lucy with Edwin when a baby

When in previous posts I made comments about China's involvement with the Covid-19 virus, and made certain suggestions, I qualified them by saying they were my conspiracy theories (see Expanding boundaries). I note today that Sir Richard Dearlove, ex head of MI6, has published an analysis of the genetic fingerprint of the virus. Apparently it has gene insertions that don't occur naturally, but are designed to increase its ability to adhere to human cells, thereby rendering human-to-human transmission more possible. The emerging fact that it also sticks to male cells more aggressively than female, and targets people of Western origin more than Oriental, adds to the suspicion that this was a designed virus rather than natural. This suggests that my wild conspiracy theory may not be so improbable, and re-enforces the need to become more independent from China, and not share so much technology with them.

Quiz night

We held our weekly quiz last night, this time compèred by Matthew and Rosie. They gave a good assortment of questions, including some on Rosie's speciality of food (she was a professional chef), and Matthew's work on motorbikes and insurance! The number attending each week has slowly grown, with 11 groups logging in this time.

I have finished another picture of one of the grandchildren. I feel there is some improvement, but still considerable way to go before I establish smooth tonal blending, and better colouring. However, it remains a good relaxation, for when I have to concentrate on this, I cannot think of anything else. I imagine art must be a good distraction therapy for agitation or tension. Whether it helps people with depression though, I don't know. Judging by the agitation it induced when I painted my other grandson (see Painting problems),
I rather think it might make someone more depressed when it all goes wrong.   

On the political front, Dominic Cummings remains in his post despite a week of ridicule and degredation of the prime minister. When the story first broke, Ann as usual showed great insight; she predicted this saying he would not be going, whereas I was certain he would have to be dismissed. It seems that Boris cannot do without him, though the vitriol it has stirred will almost certainly come back to haunt him.

Meeting up again

We are all cheered by the news that lockdown is to be eased from Monday. We drove out to our old sailing haunts of Woolverstone and Shotley to enjoy a change of scene and the fresh sunny air, watching the newly awakened boating fraternity getting ready for a delayed season. I had prepared a picnic which we ate in the car, on obedience to the rules, but Shotley was already too busy to walk the dogs without closely meeting people.

In the evening, an arranged visit by one of our neighbours to share a beer and a whisky in the garden. To try and keep the Hundon men's group going, he had invited me and several others round for drinks in his garden, but not feeling ready to meet a large group I ducked that one. This was by way of compensation.

Busy bees

We continue to see large numbers of bees, generally busying themselves in the fruit trees. Today however a huge queen landed on our window, mounted by a drone busy in other ways. They remained occupied for about 15 minutes, before he finally fell off exhausted. She preened herself for a few moments then flew off through the trees, presumably to found another colony somewhere.