Another New Beginning.

Too much to say for Facebook Posts. Hence a Blog Revival.

I hope that this gets read, or at least a similar message gets passed, via whatsoever source, to our political leaders.

I have discovered that there is one advantage I have gained from my immersion, in childhood, in a destructive mind control cult. I have a greater understanding than many, of the Muslim mindset. And this 'many' includes too many politicians who have seen fit to pronounce on Islam.

In Christendom and Jewry it seems that it is only the extreme and fringe movements which detest society at large and feel themselves above it. Mainstream Islam, however, manifests so many of the ugly features of, amongst others, the Jehovah's Witnesses, that misery making institution that cast a black cloud of imminent doom over my early years.

To what ugly features do I refer?  Misogyny, homophobia and shunning of apostates spring immediately to mind. There is also the overarching assumption that humanity is irredeemably corrupt, that a divine judgemental purge is required and is indeed imminent. The Law of God, to which Muslims, like Jehovah's Witnesses, are ultimately subject, transcends any man made laws. These latter will only be obeyed in the spirit of a temporary compromise until such time as the divinely ordained absolute theocracy is established. 

I had not realised that my last post was nearly three years ago. Life is not utterly different, but changes there have been many. In 2009 I had not envisaged moving to Moscow on what is looking increasingly like a permanent basis. And the near future? (Predicting the distant future is a mug's game) 'Paradise Delayed' will be revised and published electronically in 2013, the year when, whatever else transpires, the most important event should be the birth of grandchild No. 1. A quick glance at the last few entries reminded me how very little verse I write these days; must be because the  focus, wordwise, is on improving my Russian.  Tomorrow I will practise my tango songs and write a sonnet; indeed I will  post this now and begin my sonnet forthwith.........

I'm Back

Long time since I've blogged. Only ten days from now and I shall be a father in law. Am hoping the boys have more self employed success than I have thus far. They are both working with colleagues from the start, Olly with the band and Marek, also with the band, as well as with lawyers, with Sabina and with a colleague in the insurance biz. That should provide springboards and sounding boards for ideas; there is less danger of negative introspection.

Apart from short poems and celebratory verse as well as a published letter in the Spectator, writing is moribund. Come on TLC - tell us the score - find me an agent. So many writers have benefited from professional editors, often ruthless ones; Patrick Hennessey in 'Jnr. Offrs. Reading Club' and Jerome K. Jerome with 'Three Men in a Boat'. I notice these things now.

Tango songs give nearly as much pleasure as the tunes. Have been booked to sing Italian songs at Car Colston W.I. Will write and rehearse a definitive script. Bilborough lecturettes have been a good training ground for giving presentations. When the book is published, Facebook, the blog- all possible media will be employed in its promotion. Time for bed.

Whoops. I have made others aware that a blog is not a confidential diary and is in the public domain. I have squirmed at reports of Cherie Blairs contraceptive antics, or lack of them, at Balmoral. Looking back over some of my ancient entries I noticed that, broadcast worldwide, though I hope, barely read by anyone, were sentiments that should never have been aired in public. They have since been wiped.

My cold is slowly lifting. I hardly coughed once at last night's milonga or at the birthday meal for Lynn at 'Iguanas' which preceded it. St. Mary's Church Hall in Wollaton is a beautiful venue. It looks like 1920s Arts and Crafts - if indeed there is such a style.

I might even feel fit enough tonight for salsa - the first time in a fortnight. Meanwhile must get dressed and cut some nettles. I have heard of the nutritious properties of nettles all my life. A feature on some Radio 4 programme mentioned their use as a spinach substitute.

Then I shall continue the revised 'Jesus' chapter before preparing for all those visits arranged last Friday during a promising session at Bulwell Market. Two fat books had been on my shelves, unread, for years. Have just finished Vol. 2 of 'God's Playground' - part of a history of Poland by Norman Davies. It puts Dad's background into a fuller perspective. His mixed Polish/Russian/Jewish identity was typical for many of his generation and several before it. The 'sciences' of race and class, two scourges of the 20th century made such multi layered identities untenable. Have ordered Volume 1 and meanwhile am reading my last Christmas present to Mum, the autobiography of Nelson Mandela. After Stalin and Poland and the politics of East Central Europe the world of the Thembu and the Xhosa in the 1920s is quite a contrast. Many of the issues though, are similar.

To the nettle patch by Sherwood Community Centre, armed with the shears and a Tesco bag. A sickle would be better, but do not have one.

Slowed down a little by a cold, but not daunted by incomplete UWDC applications or mind changes. No Hyson Green market yesterday - I felt too groggy, but will, barring a downpour, try Bulwell tomorrow. At least I am yet more conversant with energy and other rules now.

It was good to hear from Olly - hopefully he will pass by over the w/e en route to Catterick. Friday's choir practice and its parade of potential Assistant Organists was most interesting. Whoever is chosen should provide us all with a great musical education.

Saturday's milonga should be a test of how many, if any, of the recent moves have been sufficiently internalised for me to feel sufficiently confident of deploying. Looking at last week's blog, one or two things have been achieved. Daniel has been revised - the garden is a little tidier and some seeds have been planted. The plan for 'Jesus' is being delivered.

By the time of my next blog (next week?), I shall have revised the Jesus chapter and be grappling with 'Astrology' - my accounts will be up to date, my tax return for 07/08 complete and there will be at least two new signed up customers.

Should report too on dancing - back to salsa after the cold and Saturday's milonga.

One filled UWDC form ready to post is one more than I had at last entry. Should have several visits tomorrow and two more are arranged for next week. I'll do Hyson green Market again on Wednesday and take a look at Bulwell tomorrow.

The garden is a little tidier and I'll plant some herbs and flowers at the weekend. Carlo's tango is useful, though he has an irritating habit of spending so much time demonstrating what he does not want that it is not always easy to remember the new move he has shown us. 'Phoning and visiting prospects is now normal and does not produce anything like the original fear. Income will grow.

I must address my fear of accounts and the Book of Daniel at the weekend or both will vaporise. Norman Davies on 'Poland' provides some interesting thoughts for July's 'nationhood' lecture.

Several days since my last entry. Loads of UWDC contacts but no specific sales. Fortunately MAD Day was a reminder that success is possible - the stress was on persistence and persist I will. I have enjoyed some Bilborough sessions, particularly history and performance studies where I can make some real contribution in the form of dance steps or family experience of the holocaust.

Last night's tango was bizarre - fortunately it was a warm night for being locked out of the Hermitage Centre in Sneinton; local authority employees do not work on Bank Holidays. We danced al fresco on the old church 'balcony' while the inmates (or outmates) of the Bendigo mocked our efforts. The Bank Holiday do at Isis was a marathon, dancing from 8pm till 2.30 am. Some superb whirling with a range of partners.

'Young Stalin' is a weird tale - a violent upbringing, and an informer filled young manhood produced a monster - none of us can ever escape our formative years. Fortunately I had more than filth, cold, Armageddon and Britphobia - though all four have continued to resonate down the years.