THE TROUBLE WITH ADRIENNE*

Meant to have the article I have been meaning to write ready for you by now. But it's proved to be a much more complex affair than I had reckoned on.

Better that it's right than quick, though. I want to be absolutely fair to the party involved and I would like to obtain the maximum cathartic effect for myself. I'll try not to keep you waiting longer than I have to.

If that doesn't have you dry mouthed with suspense nothing will!!!!!!!!!!

*Not her real name but its close enough.

John R. Nicoll, Dundee (The Hospitable Scots Bachelor)

P.C. OR NOT P.C. PART 4

If you've been following the P.C. or not P.C. strand you may well be glad to know that, for once, the machinery of bureaucracy has coughed and spluttered and lurched in the right direction.

That's my ham fisted way of saying that I have once again been assigned as a school escort to the same little Asian boy that I was escorting last year.

I picked him up the other day and he was ready, face washed, hair combed to within an inch of its life and ready for his new school - or at least as ready as any school boy ever is for anything to do with school!

I'm glad it worked out this way. I'm glad for him. I'm even more glad for me. I'm sure that he will appreciate a little continuity in his life. I know that I do.

I'm a big fan of continuity myself. I know that nothing stays the same for very long in this life but, lately, change has seemed to become a religion in certain quarters. Often it is change for changes sake - or, as we used to call it, FIDGETING!

How nice if things can continue in the same way - at least for a while.How nice if you can bask a little longer in the warmth of a friendship or enjoy a comfortable situation. Why must this world insist on dragging us along by the scruff of the neck? What's the hurry?

My young friend shows me his new toy car. He grins. He giggles when I call him a twit. Then he looks out of the car window to see the world roll relentlessly by.

Again, I ask, what's the hurry?

THE RECOVERY

THE RECOVERY

This poem was written for a dear friend of mine. She is brave, talented, kind hearted and one of the best "advertisements" for Christianity that I have ever met. Her friendship means more to me than she can probably guess"


Demi-Lazarus,
she rises from that hospital bed
and the years of half-life
that, nevertheless,
could not extinguish
the embers within.

Now, with every kind impulse,
those embers glow again;
the cards at Easter,
the bringing of strangers together,
prayer and poetry.
This heart shines outward.

The road rising
is sometimes a mountain, but,
though bone weary,
frailty is matched with grace.
The embers are fanned.
The flame is returning!


I'm having trouble placing comments on my OWN blog, would you believe? - you would if you had any idea of my computer incompetence. So, here's a special message for:

Pearl

Thanks for all your comments Pearl. Like the lady in the song: "You're a darn nice girl"!

and Suz

I've got some sympathy with your views Suz. There are not many likeable characters. Daisy is the sort of woman most modern women would cheerfully slap and her old man is a Yob - no less so for being rich. But Gatsby - at least he believes in SOMETHING. The bit that moved me almost more than any other bit of the book was where they find, after he is dead, the note to himself about the regime he must impose upon himself if he is to achieve his goal. The fact that his goal would be unachievable to any mortal being (see last page) makes his story all the more moving. "Come back, come back, oh glittering and white" - indeed !

I plan, in due course, to do a posting dedicated to explaining why I love the book so much. Maybe I will even convince you. Take care ladies xxx.

P.C. OR NOT P.C. (PART THREE)

This is another story about the little Asian boy that I took to school and said goodbye to about two weeks ago. It's in two parts, so I hope that you will bear with me!

FIRST PART
A couple of days ago I was enjoying a coffee in a place up town. I had just come from Church and was ploughing my way through The Observer (not my favourite newspaper) when snippets of conversation from the next table began drifting into my consciousness.

They were all the harder to ignore because the person who was doing most of the talking had one of those voices which was not so much loud as penetrating,if you know what I mean.

Her voice was bright and shiny with enthusiasm. The snippets and slivers of conversation came thick and fast. She was into some sort of Virtual Reality scene and was proudly regaling her companions with the status of her Avatar. Am I getting this right?

The Avatar was apparently a person of great virtual importance (we've all met a few of these in THIS world, haven't we?) The Enthusiast actually came out with the immortal line, "I'm the third most important person in my imaginary world". If I was going to go to the bother of creating an imaginary world I'd make b***dy sure I was THE most important person in it but as it is, I have enough problems with reality, so there!

This world, no not THIS world, the imaginary one (try to keep up) was apparently a dangerous and demanding place. There were Ogres, Monsters and Dragons and what have you lurking around every corner. Dastardly things had to be done to ensure survival.

"I've just realised", said our Enthusiast", to stand a chance of surviving I might have to kill my own son!"

I felt myself rapidly approaching "people slapping mode" so I tuned out and returned to The Observer (it has its uses).

Fast forward (what a relief), to:

SECOND PART
A day later I am going home on the bus. The little boy I said goodbye to a couple of weeks ago (see previous postings) was in his wheelchair across the aisle and accompanied by two of his carers. He had just come back from a Fun Day Out and the sheen of happiness was still evident on his face. Suddenly, he frowned. "Will you be taking me to my new school?", he asked.

I reassured him that they would find somebody nice to look after him and his face relaxed back into that teddy bear smile.

For the rest of his journey he would look over occassionly and the big brown eyes would sparkle in a reprise of that smile. He seemed confident that, at least for the moment,everything in his world was as it should be and I, at least for the moment, was glad for him.

As the bus rolled on I thought, again, of that idiot world I had heard about the day before. One thing was certain the Ogres, Monsters and Dragons that this little boy will have to face will be real enough. They will come in the form of the humiliation he will soon feel at still needing nappies. They will appear in the form of the unthinking cruelty (and worse, the conscious cruelty) of those more fortunate than he. And, later, when others find girlfriends they will come, again and again and again.......

But I have seen the light in his eye and been close enough to sense the strength of his God given spirit. There will be many battles ahead and he may not win them all (though I pray that he does) but, he can be sure of one thing, those he does win will be REAL. They will not be locked away in some, dark and dank and unseen Virtual World. They will be out there shining for ALL with the eyes to see.

May God bless him and watch over him on his journey!


If you have any stories to tell or subjects you'd like me to cover or any personal heros/heroines that you would like to draw attention to, you can contact me on:
johnnicollendeavour@yahoo.co.uk Thanks

P.C. OR NOT P.C. (PART TWO)

Thanks for all your suggestions a little while back regarding the choice of a small gift for the little Asian boy that I have been escorting to school in a taxi for the last two years.

I eventually settled on a Colouring/Activity Book, Stickers and lots of coloured pencils and felt tip pens.They seemed to go down well.

On Wednesday he had to say goodbye to a teacher who had been with him for practically his entire school career. She's a nice woman in her thirties and as she knelt down to give him a kiss, a hug and a nicely wrapped present she burst into tears and had to retreat to a Staff Room.

My young friend didn't seem too fazed by this at the time but, later, in the taxi going home, his top lip started to wobble. I wanted to tell him that saying goodbye to the people that matter gets easier as time goes by but we all know that that's not true and so, instead, I settled for tickling his ear and, being seven years old, that seemed to do the trick.

Perhaps I shall wait until he starts his new school and send him a card to wish him well. Maybe it would be a good thing for him to know that though friends can't always stay in your orbit,often they can find ways of reaching out to you!

STOP THE WORLD........I'VE FALLEN OFF!

So Summer has rolled round once more.........such as it has been so far!

I don't see the person who was such a big part of my days last Summer any more and so, perhaps, I have rose-tinted memories of the Summer of 2010.

All the same, the skies did seem bluer and the days a little more languid and relaxed. Still, memory can be an uncertain ally. It means well but does not always give you the "straight skinny".

I don't if I am any the wiser than I was then but, like most people, I have had many new experiences that have surely broadened my world view - but is that the same as wisdom? "Discuss" as they say on the exam papers.

Early this year I was lucky enough to meet many fine and talented and just plain nice people in a very short space of time and life seems a lot richer than it did in the dark days of winter. One in particular has become a close friend and something of a kindred spirit. At least I now no longer believe that it is IMPOSSIBLE to meet new people!

And so the world turns again and we have to accommadate it in its restlessness but sometimes, just sometimes, I wish it would slow down long enough to allow us to catch up!

MY GALLERY OF SMALL SAINTS 2: EARL BOSTIC

When I was about fourteen this "small saint" arrived in my life courtesy of my father.

Dad was still, in the early sixties, a reservist in the Royal Air Force, having reached the rank of Squadron Leader. The big house where his unit was stationed was due to be sold off and the unit disbanded and, consequently, the contents of the Officer's Mess were shared out amongst Dad and his fellow officers.

He managed to lay claim to a good clutch of L.P.'s to aded to our collection at home. Ray Conniff and His Singers did not do much for my fourteen year old sensibilities but, oh, how Earl did!

As much as I liked contemporary popular music, his music was so much deeper, richer and more exotic.

The songs he recorded like Ebb Tide, Love Is A Many Splendored Thing and The Autumn Leaves were the songs of my parents' generation but I did not mind that at all for there was something very different about the musical "palette" that he employed to anything else I was listening to.

It was the first time that I had been made fully aware of the quality of "wistfulness" in music, or anywhere else for that matter. If you ever hear his version of "The Autumn Leaves" you will know just what I mean.

Earl's music was probably the first time I had made any real connection with the gems from the thirties, forties and fifties.

Connection? I nearly wore out that copy of "Sweet Tunes Of The Fabulous Fifties" The family's little Dansette record player was practically begging for mercy.

Ironically, Earl Bostic's signature tune, Flamingo, wasn't on that record. I only discovered it through the internet about a year ago and I think it is now my favourite track of all Earl's tracks - the ones that I have heard that is. It achieves the almost impossible feat of being wistful, boisterous and joyous at one and the same time.............. and entirely thrilling!

BIOGRAPHY

Born 25/4/13 in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Joined Terence Holder's Band at the age of 18.
Made his first recording in 1942 and formed his own band in 1945.
Recorded his signature tune, Flamingo, in 1951.
Died of a heart attack while performing wit his band in Rochester, New York in 1965.
He wrote arrangements for, among others, Paul Whiteman, Louis Prima, and Lionel Hampton. His song writing hits include "Let Me Off Uptown" recorded by Anita O'Day.