New Year's Morning

Last night at Roger's was most convivial; a refreshing relief from the arch and arsey Jonathan nonsense, of which more in a later paragraph. The panorama of garden fireworks from Bestwood, Arnold, Redhill, Sherwood and even Mapperley, to be viewed at midnight from the sloping garden, is becoming as welcome an annual tradition as Christmas at Lorna's.

Roger lives in a pleasant neighbourhood with some lovely neighbours. We made some music in the 'parlour' with Steve playing Seekers' hits from his band's old repertoire and, for the first time since we have known each other, Roger and I played some simple blues together, on guitar and clarinet.

I shall listen to some more Sheehan lectures today as I tidy the office and do the ironing. Yesterday I felt tempted to dig out a 'green' guru whereby to add a brief chapter to 'Paradise Delayed'. I had toyed with the idea in the intro. chapter but had concluded that most eco types were altogether too rational to fit the mould of my other seers. Jonathan's Ph.D. chapters, though, are the work of a writer who, in true prophet of doom fashion, believes himself to be one of an enlightened elite in a wicked world bound for destruction. We, the blind and profligate, refuse to heed his warnings of 'the Wrath to Come'.

My mother was more than content to be regarded as a wacky eccentric, a bohemian dotty old dear. Accusations of being a mental tyrant over her family, herself subservient to the diktats of a US based oligarchic multinational, she would have deflected with the wide eyed stare of a Holy Innocent. Jonathan, likewise, would be flattered were he regarded as an airy fairy hippie idealist. I have reminded him that he comes across as a supercilious, preachy doomster, receptive only to information that boosts his self image. He adopts in defence, not the wide eyed stare, but the officious and predictably pompous e.mail, declaring his wish to sever all contact. He has retreated, as I reminded him in a parting shot, to his 'postmodern eco greenhouse'.

There is a lesson there for me, (yes, I know these 'postmodern' types tell us there are no lessons to be learned from history, but we cannot learn from the present or the future; without an interpretation of the past, we would learn nothing at all; ergo 'postmodernism' or at least that aspect of a seemingly useless and nebulous concept, is ridiculous.) If and when my writing, (or dancing, singing, cooking, teaching or anything else) is derided, I must never resort to simply denigrating the critic.

And finally, a thank you to the 'anonymous' Peter Lawley for his most useful comments on my blog thus far. My 'E' will be produced and projected with near full round tone, I hope, in time for Epiphany. Only 60 pages to go in 'The Jewish War' and Josephus has concluded that, with the Temple surrounded by the Romans, and all the known world subdued by them, God must now (70 CE) reside in Italy.