When Hymns Harm

My Primary school (infant + junior) was a smallish Roman Catholic affair, now greatly expanded from the 300 or so intake of the 1970s, when I was there.

Once a week we had an Assembly. I'm astonished to hear that schools now have to have this daily. Once a week was quite enough! In we would troop, class by class, as line by line the floor of the Dining Hall would fill up with children sitting cross-legged, trying to claim as much room as possible before a teacher came and told everyone to squeeze up again. Line after line of children in ever increasing size till the eleven-year olds squeezed in at the back and braced themselves for half an hour of boredom.

I can't remember a single thing that was said to us in any of these sessions.

I do remember what came first though, before any of this wildly memorable instruction began: the hymn.

The Headmistress, a nun in black called Sr Callista who looked to us about 90 but who, from contemporary photo's, I can see was probably around 45, did love to hear us sing. She especially loved to hear us sing at Mass, every Wednesday morning. Several parents stayed on for this event, and Sr Callista made it her personal goal to present them with children who walked in line and bellowed loud enough for them to hear the words. This way, they knew that she was an excellent Headmistress. And so the Assembly became a perfect time for Singing Practice. You couldn't get away with a mumble into your jumper. It had to be sung, and sung high and loudly and you had to smile and learn it and enjoy it.

But other than presentation, did any of the teachers ever wonder what we made of the words?

Sr Callista introduced new hymns. After all, she was looking after young children. So the Thees and Thous were replaced by a pale blue Celebration Hymnal and "folk" hymns were used. As we sang she beamed with pride. Aren't we good? Don't we like the new hymns? Isn't this all marvellous?


Here's one of them, as much as I remember from 30+ years ago:

[chorus] Suffer little children to come unto me,
for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven!
Suffer little children to come unto me,
for theirs is the kingdom of the Lord!

[verse] And Jesus said, "Children, little children,
blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-blah (can't remember that line)
[repeat, then chorus again]

The tune was monotonous and I now loathe it. I've noticed that many of the hymns people of around my age count as favourites, I can't stand at all. Probably because of how much we had to sing them back then. But there is a more serious reason for my hating this one.




At this time, I was being seriously bullied at home. Emotionally, verbally and physically. "I lived in fear" sounds like a cliche, but it describes it exactly. I was regularly hit. Mostly it was across the face. But thighs were targets, too, while brothers preferred forearms. More elaborate options included holding my hand against the wall behind a door, then slamming the door open against it, so that the metal handle bruised my palm, wrist, fingers or knuckles. I still have trouble with my hands today.

The unfairness of it all is what stings when I look back. It's the unfairness of it that ripples into my present and causes problems. The physical pains can't be re-experienced, but the sting of injustice lasts. When I'm low it haunts me, like a ghost walking his same path night after night anew.

Why didn't I speak up?

Why didn't I find a confidante?

Why didn't I write about it at school, try to tell someone that way?

Well, there was this hymn, you see. And in it, it said that little children had to suffer to go to Jesus- "Suffer little children to come unto me..."

Of course, "suffer" in this sense, means "cause" or "encourage". But I was an adult a long while before I knew that. I thought I must be being blessed with all this suffering... and prayed for more.

photo's taken last summer at Fountains Abbey

Something bright for January.

I meant to post these pictures a couple of months ago. I was just looking for a cheerful picture to put on here and re-found them.....

OK I know I shouldn't really buy flowers from a supermarket, what with private florists struggling to survive, but........

they had reduced them to 50p!

They lasted nearly two weeks. I dried out the sunflowers and hung them in the trees for the birds last month.

I knew they were a bargain at the time, but little did I know they would brighten things up round here in January, too!

Falling

Sometimes you scribble down a poem, and it feels just right.
Then you lose it. Forget about it. You don't find it for years, and then, when you do, you think, "What on earth was that about?" Laugh, with embarrassment. Then throw it away.

Other times, when you come back to it, you think how it still applies, and therefore, perhaps, how little things, or the world, or you have changed.

I scribbled this one down in 1994.
I'm quite frightened to have noticed lately, that the overall sentiment is once again true.
Also angry, as I had been well for a few months, dammit........
I'm still fighting.

********

Falling

The things that brought me joy last week
today are just a chore.
I've mislaid their fascination
and am too tired to seek.
And I know that I am falling.

The love I felt not long ago
has been left out too long;
like butter in a room too warm,
there's not much left to show.
And I know that I am falling.

The things I used to dream about
are nowhere in my memory,
I cannot call for help for them;
no energy to shout.
And I know that I am falling.

I know too well what lies ahead,
I know this sepid pool;
the heaviness of my emptiness
will pin me to my bed-
Oh God, I am falling......

Time to boost batteries....

After the rush of the Christmas build-up, being host on Christmas Day to extended family, the still more draining limbo betweenChristmas and New Year, I needed a nap!

"Luckily" I caught that bug that's going round. It's been on the news here- a norovirus (sp?). Headaches, aching limbs, feeling/being sick, running off to the bathroom over and over, shivering, fever....

I still say "luckily" because it meant that I could take to my bed! I know it was yucky, but I really think it did my BRAIN good to be reduced to firing only on very basic cylinders for a while.

Sunday 30th was when it first hit me: with a weak tiredness and a headache, like the feeling you get when you're about to go under with a head cold.

Last Saturday was my first time out of the house since it began, and yesterday was my first without a headache.

My next Open University Course doesn't start till the end of this month, so I have a couple of weeks to recharge and ehm, well, tidy up and get a bit organised.

Not even sure I'll be taking this next one. I got a distinction in that last one. Got the results just before Christmas. But.....

no matter how many times I do well at no matter how many things, there is still this voice in my head whispering two words-

the first is "Fluke!"

the other is "Fake!"

Never mind. I cling to the simple things. I'll recharge my batteries with basics. Like a cat who was so pleased to see me she snuggled up and slept on me; first under my chin, then on it, then up so close she had her face resting in my eye socket, all the time floppy from sleep and warm and soft and purry.

Whatever the aches and however many the demons, this is bliss. Me and Fluffy.

Got a real tree? CHECK IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ahhhhhh..........didn't it look nice?

-I write that in the past tense, because I've had to strip the tree and smother it with insecticide till it's dripping!

Apparently, aphids hibernate in the winter, and there is nothing they like better to have a snooze in than a nice bushy little tree. Not too big, close to the ground, snug.... erm.... just like this one, actually!

Well, after two days in our living room with the fire on, they woke up thinking it was summertime and therefore.......party-time!

I'd had cards around the foot of the tree and on Thursday morning, went to put another card there, newly arrived. It was then that I noticed something sticky on one of the cards....... sap. Wherever the little ba***rds had nibbled, the tree had produced sticky sap to try to defend itself. It drowns the bug in sticky yuckiness, leaving it immobile. But it doesn't stop it nibbling in the first place, and therefore didn't stop the needles falling. Neither does it do anything to prevent further wee baby aphids from hatching and joining in the fun fun fun.

Stroooof!

Just when I thought I had Christmas licked!

Everyone's coming to our house for Christmas... only had ten days notice of this, but hey! I can handle this! I CAN handle it! I keep telling myself I can. Bought food...........found bigger table in charity shop........... bought decorations in an early sale.......... all done, all OK. Didn't account for aphid invasion in the middle of winter. Silly me.

Hey ho!

So. Take this moral- if you have a real tree, go and examine it. NOW. Before it's too late.

Have a merry, bugless Christmas!

Whoooooooooooooaaaaah!

I don't really drink. Never got into the habit, or developed the taste.

Then came duloxetine, my latest anti-depressant, with bigger than the usual "do not drink while taking this medicine" warning. Why so big a warning this time? I looked it up on the net....

.....man! How do these things get licenses? This drug caused liver cancer in the rats it was tested on. If they put it to market even after that, what was the point of putting the animals through that?

Anyway. So I've been taking Milk Thistle (silmarin) all the time I've been on it, as this is meant to help your liver.

I got the results of a recent blood test the other day- liver tested normal. Hurray!

So................ feeling a little wound up tonight, I decided to have some wine. Why not? The one that had been opend X weeks ago was off (really?) so I opened another. We have afew bottles- presents, winnings from pub quizes my partner went to, etc. All look the same to me, except some are red and some are white. I can usually tell from the label which is which, so I can cook with the right one. Ha!

Mmmm................. this red wine is gooooooooooood...........sweet, tasty, yum! Sip sip.... pour more.......

Then my partner says, "Hey! Hold on! That's not wine! That's PORT!"

Oops.

Better put some paracetamol and water by my bed for the morning......

Teeeeeeeeehehehehehehehehe...........

What am I? Where am I?

You Are a Yellow Crayon

Your world is colored with happy, warm, fun colors. You have a thoughtful and wise way about you. Some people might even consider you a genius. Charming and eloquent, you are able to get people to do things your way. While you seem spontaneous and free wheeling, you are calculating to the extreme. Your color wheel opposite is purple. You both are charismatic leaders, but purple people act like you have no depth.

What Color Crayon Are You?

Calculating?????? Cheek!!!!!

This next one is based on Dante's Inferno. Your answers place you in one of
his 9 levels of Hell (his ten levels overall, if you count purgatory). I'm in the first level, folks. Not too bad! But whoa... look at this list!!!
VIOLENCE??? MALICIOUSNESS????? LOL! I can only think this is because I ticked yes to occasional suicidal thoughts, and even an attempt way back when.

Hey ho!

The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to the First Level of Hell - Limbo!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very High
Level 2 (Lustful)	Low
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Moderate

This next bit is how this level is described. Not too bad, really. Bit like life here, but without the religious fanatics. Looked at like that, it's a possible improvement!

First Level of Hell - Limbo

Charon ushers you across the river Acheron, and you find yourself upon the brink of grief's abysmal valley. You are in Limbo, a place of sorrow without torment. You encounter a seven-walled castle, and within those walls you find rolling fresh meadows illuminated by the light of reason, whereabout many shades dwell. These are the virtuous pagans, the great philosophers and authors, unbaptised children, and others unfit to enter the kingdom of heaven. You share company with Caesar, Homer, Virgil, Socrates, and Aristotle. There is no punishment here, and the atmosphere is peaceful, yet sad.

Take the Dante's Inferno Test

Polish workers, cats, trees and one Polish word.

An old polish gentleman came to our door last night. He showed us a hand-written card to explain that he was a deaf-mute and was selling his drawings door-to-door. We don't need pictures- we have several, framed and unframed, still unhung from when we moved in 4 years ago. Still, me and my partner exchanged glances, perhaps a wink, and decided to help if we could. Any reluctance on my part disappeared when the pictures came out of his bag...

They are A4 size, too big to scan completely, but here are some details:

He had a few dozen. My partner prompted me to choose. I chose ones I could see were hard to draw! Not that the others looked easy, I don't mean that. But I've tried these two subjects!

I can't draw trees at all. I think I get bored. The first few twigs look OK, then it turns into a hairy doodle.

As for the cat picture, OK, it might be a bit too twee to actually hang on a wall (?) but I've found that kittens and ALL tabbies are the hardest ones to draw. With all those lines, it's easy for them to look 'flat'. I get confused, whilst drawing, between line, detail, shade. I lose track. Is this bit I'm doing a bit of shading, or is it some of the tabby pattern? Sound odd? Give it a go and you'll see what I mean. Maybe. Or maybe this is just me. Ha!

So I was impressed, that's the basis of my choice.

Look at the textures- that blanket in front of the kittens. OK, maybe he put it there because, like me, he can't do paws (if you ever see a picture of an animal standing in long grass, you know you've found someone else with this problem.) But the blanket looks real!

My partner knows British Sign Language. I guess some of it is universal, as they were able to make themselves understood.

I worked in Poland for a little while, back in 1991, and was excited about saying some Polish. When his attention was turned to me, however, I was ashamed and horrified to discover that I couldn't remember any of it. Except the word for "thankyou". But perhaps that's all that was needed.

Isn't it awful that people with skill and talent like this have to go door-to-door? And in the same week, a silly man lost his job as manager of the England football team and was paid 2.5 million sterling to leave his job? The world's mad.

We have lots of people from Poland here in Colchester. Since the EU expanded the other year, lots have come to the UK to work, and quite a few hundred to this town. I hear the language every time I go into town. Last night's experience has shown me AGAIN that it is never too late to learn. Why didn't I keep up the language in the 1990s? Hey ho. I wonder if any of the new Colcestrians has thought of giving Polish Language classes. I think I might enquire at the college when I'm in town this afternoon..............

ps.

The Polish for "thankyou" is pronounced "D'yen-koo-yah".

World Toilet Day

It's true! November 19th is World Toilet Day! The serious thought behind it is to draw attention to the billions who don't have good sanitation, something that we usually just take for granted. There's a website, here.


As well as the serious stuff, there are cartoons and quizzes. E.g., What kind of toilet paper are you? I am, apparently, a dried leaf. I don't care. It will make a certain Bear very proud, I'm sure.

what kind of TOILET PAPER are you? created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as dead leaves That's right. When it comes to toilet paper, you're a pile of dead leaves. You're curious, ethereal, and spiritual. You love to challenge traditional philosophies. And because you're so environmentally conscious, you never take from Mother Earth what you can't give back. dead leaves 81% under-dispensing toilet paper 56% over-dispensing toilet paper 50% quilted toilet paper 44% public restroom toilet paper 31% paper napkins 25% empty roll 19%

A Certain Bear

I adopted Bob The Bear (or Bob T Bear esq., as he prefers to be known) in 2002, packing him off in a box to Ecuador. Also in the box was a supply of Chocolate Biscuits for the journey, a Christmas Pudding, some tea, and a few other things that my partner, at that time working in Quito, would be missing. He had mentioned to me that he had never had a Bear when he was a boy, so I decided that I had to correct this dreadful remiss. I hugged Bob and told him to pass on the hug when he got there, which I'm assured he did.

My partner was just a good friend back then, but after he returned to the UK in August 2003, we realised that no Bear deserved to have estranged parents and so we all moved in together. The rest is history, much of which Bob took to documenting in his personal diaries, which he moved into blogland last year.