poliphilo

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One of the very many reasons I gave up being a priest is because I was enjoying the politics too much and realised it was bad for me. Now, as a Quaker elder I've got a little footling power again and am making decisions that ruffle feathers- and I hate it. Well, that's progress, I think.

It's like Ailz said, the people who hate wielding power are the people who should be doing it, not the people who find it fun.

I dreamed I'd agreed to preach a sermon about St Andrew. The opening was clear in my mind. It went something like this. "How surprised the Galilean fisherman would have been if you'd told him he was destined to become the patron saint of a country far to the north of which he'd probably never heard...."

Why St Andrew- a figure for whom I have no particular feeling? Why Scotland?

Tuesday is when our cleaner comes.

Have I mentioned her before? I don't think I have. I don't like saying we have one because it's an admission that we're affluent and old.

She's called Carolina and she's Brazilian. Her English is minimal and our Portuguese is non-existent, but we make ourselves understood. She's lovely.

We tend to go out and let her breeze about. Yesterday we went to Tesco to buy a birthday card for Ivy. She'll be 13. I got one featuring a cartoon version of the Gallagher brothers, Liam striking a pose, Noel holding the string of a balloon. I find it a little odd that a modern teenager should love Oasis, but she does. Her father will be taking her to see them when they play Manchester.

I'm reading a contemporary novel about Anglo-Chinese people, part of which is set at the time of the handover of Hong Kong. It has its virtues but overall it's not very good. The heroine is a Mary Sue, the men are portrayed witth little understanding of what makes them tick, the mood is glum, the writing is unsure of itself and sometimes overcooked. But, then, I tell myself, most novels are not very good. Just look how few of them achieve classic status.....

Picture Diary 93

1. Guides

2. Yuki Onna

3. Please wait a minute....

4. Into Storage

5, Shhhhh

6. The Rainbow Bridge

The corridor we needed to go down was blocked with cones. "Wait there," said the nurse pointing to a row of chairs- and a little later, "Wait over there" pointing us back into the atrium. "There's a lot of people coming through...."

A lot of people? An entourage? Was the king visiting the hospital? Had he been taken ill?

When they came, they came in procession, several abreast, at a smart marching pace- medical staff, some of them carrying equipment, surrounding a very sick person on a gurney. It had the quality of ritual, of something rehearsed, everyone knowing their place and their role. They came down the corridor, brushing it's sides, hieratic, formal, through the atrium and off into the heart of the hospital.

It wasn't the king. But it was an incident. Something uncalled for. And it had upset the staff. "I wish I hadn't come in today," said the woman who gave me the eye test.

Why an eye test? Last time I went for glasses an anomaly showed up that could be an early sign of macular degeneration. I've kept out of hospitals for most of my life and If I have to start coming in now it is what it is and everything is experience.

In a dream last night I saw a beetle scuttling across the floor. It was walking on its hind legs and holding a circular object. Obviously a scarab- a symbol of the sun-god Ra, specifically of the early morning sun- and so of new light, new life, resurrection. In a later dream I had a big Victorian penny show up in the loose change I was carrying. Another big round thing, more royalty, another sun symbol....

Edna, who has been a Quaker elder for a while now, says, "O yes, I've been shouted at, cursed at".....

I haven't been cursed at yet but in my short time in office I've upset at least two people in what I believe to be the execution of my duties- which are to protect the Meeting and keep it worshipful and safe.

Keep it "holy".

I didn't realise when I took the job on that I was going to be functioning as a cop.

And a "bad cop" at that.

Others get to play "good cop", offering cups of tea, handing over the box of tissues....

While I'm the one who goes, "Watch it, sonny. You can't be doing that in here....."

I'm not a dog lover, so how come I was throwing a dog toy for the little Shitzu to fetch and thoroughly enjoying myself- even at one point losing my balance, falling over backwards and waving my legs in the air?

It just goes to show that we say things about ourselves and even believe them- that aren't essentially true.

We adopt a role, we act it out, but every so often, for whatever reason, we break character....

There's a plant called ragged robin. It has red stems and pretty little pink flowers and would be an acceptable garden flower if it weren't bent on world domination. I'm more tolerant of it than most gardeners would be- but then I'm not a proper gardener....

My idea of gardening is to put things in the ground and let them get on with it. The bushier the better. I exert a gentle guiding hand. Yesterday I mowed the grass, but left certain areas wild so the grasses can grow to their full height and seed. The birds have planted what I'm fairly sure is barley in the neighbourhood of the feeders. Such fun!

The pond empties itself as fast as I can fill it. It shouldn't have sprung a leak but I'm wondering if it has. I can't believe that evaporation is entirely to blame. We planted water liles but it doesn't seem to have taken. All that has taken is green scum. The cat drinks from it, as does the gull, so it's not entirely a waste of space. I had dreamed of frogs and therefore tadpoles. Dream on.....

As the garden gets bushier so I'm hoping it will attract some of the smaller birds. At present the only smaller birds we see are sparrows. What other kinds of birds do we see?

Gulls
Pigeons
Jackdaws
The very occasional blackbird
The even more occasional crow.

We do well for bumble bees. This morning a tortoiseshell butterfly alighted briefly on the patio close to my hand. We do very well for ants and woodlice.

A fox visits regularly. We're on a route that she patrols. She comes in over the fence at the bottom of the garden, trots up the path towards the house and exits over the fence into the garden next door.

4 o'clock in the afternoon. Time for tea.

Only this time I paused and thought "Why?"

And the answer came readily. Because it's a habit. In fact more than a habit. It's something the English do. A national ritual. As the song from the thirties has it....

EVERYTHING STOPS FOR TEA.

Even at my boarding school we had an afternoon tea break. The Brooke Bond was spooned into pots, currant buns were distributed. And one was fortified for one's late afternoon lessons.....

"Well," I thought. "Today I'm going to break the shackles. No cup of tea for me. Why I don't even want one." But even as I squared up against a lifetime's conditioning the desire was growing within me and I found myself filling the kettle.

Psalm 137 is a bit strong. It's also heart wrenchingly beautiful.

It begins "By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept* and ends "O daughter of Babylon, wasted with misery.... blessed shall he be that taketh thy children and throweth them against the stones."

There are many folk on both sides of the war in the middle east who are feeling- and acting in the spirit of- that last verse.

(Incidentally, the British Quakers, speaking through the mouthpiece of the Yearly Meeting, have become the first of our "churches" to call Netanyahu's war aims what they so obviously are- genocide.)

The question arose at my theological college in the mid seventies whether we, as good, milky Christians, should be chanting those final words in our worship, but my friend John Armson- who was then chaplain- said absolutely yes we should, because we all have the potential for pitiless fury in our hearts and should acknowlege it.....

Otherwise it has the potential to leap out suddenly, take us unawares and master us....

Will Disclosure- the revelation that "aliens" are "real"- destroy religion?

I'm inclined to think so.

But a guy I was listening to yesterday- who happens to be a minister of the Unitarian church- thinks it'll prove a bonanza for the churches (and the mosques, synagogues, temples etc....) A lot of people are going to be shocked to the core and will flock to the faith of their fathers for comfort and reassurance.

Well, we'll see....

We now have close up footage of the "temple" on Little St. James- Epstein's island. James O'Keefe featured it on his show.

We are all calling it a "temple" but when plans were submitted to the building regulation people it was described as a music room.

It sits on top of a rocky hillock at the end of a dirt track. There are palm trees beside it.

O'Keefe's footage is several years old and taken after the feds had been in and carried off all the movable furniture and whatever else may have been stored in there.

The building is square and decorated with blue and white stripes- which are, apparently, painted on. There used to be a golden dome, probably made of fibreglass, which blew off in a storm. The style is sort of Middle-Eastern. Two statues of aquatic centaurs originally stood at the door- which, I'm guessing, were antique. I don't think they're there any longer. Perhaps the Feds have them.

The interior walls are decorated with what looks like coloured marble, but may be paint. Against one wall stands a large empty wooden bookcase flanked by two pillars, one plain and straight up and down and the other ornate and twisted. This is masonic symbolism. On the ceiling is a painting of the starry heavens, with the constellations represented as the people and critters and things they're named for- as found in Egyptian tombs- but done in a renaissance style. It's not a great work of art.

And that's it. I don't think I've left anything out. The thing is built to impress but seems to have been done on the cheap.

It reminds me of the Little Castle at Bolsover, built by William Cavendish in the early 17th century. That too is impressive, somewhat gimcrack and, according to rumour, used as an orgy house....

I don't think it will be long before someone in authority- who can be supposed to have unquestioned access to the information- will stand up and announce that "aliens" are "real".

The testimony, the evidence- from experiencers, whistleblowers, and all manner of ordinary Joes and Janes- has been building up over the decades and, if you've been following the narrative, is all but irrefutable. The Secret is an open secret and it's getting to be counterproductive- even silly- for those in power to go on saying "nothing to see here".

The announcement could be made by the President of the USA, the Pope, possibly the President of the Russian Federation. They all know.

I put "aliens"and "real" in inverted commas because I doubt our visitors are truly alien or that "reality" is entirely real.

Full disclosure is unlikely to happen all at once. To begin with all that is needed is a statement to ensure that the Others can no longer be excluded from public discourse. Thereafter things will happen as they happen- and the Reality we live in will gradually expand.....

There's a question mark over the future of the Meeting House. Repairs to our 75 year old building could cost the Sussex East Area- which holds the money- something in the region of £50,000. There are those who say we should sell up and buy or rent something smaller and cheaper.

This came up in yesterday's Business Meeting and I got growly.

I made three points.

1. We have the best, most accomodating Quaker building in the County.

2. The Area has just spent an enormous amount of money on the Meeting House at Lewes, which, admittedly, is historic but with facilities inferior to ours.

3. They have the money in the bank. What else do they want to spend it on?

I continued growly when the matter of the person with the untrained puppy came up. This too threatens the Meeting (though in a different way) and anything that threatens the Meeting puts me on the defensive....

It seems I am vulnerable on the subject. Well, it's good to know these things.

Everywhere one looks The Society of Friends is on the retreat. Ailz asked Quaker Central about hard copies of the most recent Swartthmore Lectures (which are given annually) and was told they'd stopped publishing them.

Grrrrr. Grrrr. Grrrrr!

Only here in Eastbourne we're not on the retreat. We get a healthy attendance, we are attracting new (and younger) people, we have developed a website with lots of good stuff on it, we have started a monthly newsletter, we have something like a full roster of hirers, we have projects underway to beautify the building and improve the facilities- and all built up from a situation post-covid where the Meeting was rocking on its foundations after the shock resignation of the clerk and treasurer and had a Sunday attendance in single figures.....

I know that everything that rises must fall but I'd like our upward trajectory to continue just a little bit longer- at least for the rest of my active life- which, dammit- won't be for so very much longer......

My late father-in-law worked for a businesss that made and sold plastic containers. One day two long-haired weirdos showed up and made enquiries about buying containers to hold their band's equipment. "Band had a funny name," he told co-workers afterwards. "Queen- or something like that."

He'd only been talking to Freddie Mercury and Brian May- and he hadn't had a clue.

This week something similar happened to me. An old chap wanted to scope out the Meeting House prior to hiring it for some sort of Spiritualist event. I showed him round. Nice old chap, cockney accent, used to be a copper, talked about his multiple heart bypasses, said he had an online presence.

Yesterday I looked him up- and found myself watching a film that London Weekend Television had made about him in 2001. OK, the world of Spiritualism is smaller than that of Rock 'n' Roll but within that world Keith Charles, the psychic detective, is a pretty big name....

Our version of mudlarking is going to the shop at the recycling centre- much less mucky and the things we come away with are all in one piece.

Yesterday I watched the Northern Mudlarks- mother and daughter operating out of the Scottish borders- picking their way through a Victorian dump that was leaching into whatever river that was. This was in early January, the ground was frozen and items had to be chipped out of the matrix. No, I'm too old for that kind of caper.

We were at the recycling shop earlier in the day and came away with a fine haul.

This little lot (excluding the plant) cost us £6.50

Two big, serviceable vases, a dinky little Italian jug, some coasters (for the Meeting House) and two model buildings- one French, the other Dutch.

I researched the buildings. The French brasserie is probably imagined but the Dutch one represents an actual building on the Market Place in Delft. Both are what you might call collectibles- and if you bought them on eBay they would set you back a tidy sum.....

Ideals of beauty change. They change from decade to decade. Some of the characteristics our forerunners swooned over look pretty shonky today. Big hair- Louis XIV version or 1980s version? No, sorry, looks kinda silly now....

Consider the pin-ups of the past. Does the Venus de Milo do it for you (even if you can imagine her with arms)? No? Me neither.

Titian's fleshy blondes, Ingres' porcelain beauties, Liz Taylor in the era when she was billed as the world's most beautiful woman? No, not really....

Though I do confess a liking for the pre-Raphaelite stunner (Rossetti's word not mine.) Long tangly hair, big eyes, a studied melancholy. And I still adore the Audrey Hepburn look.

Our friend Mark was saying that today's ideal is one that is only naturally attained by girls around the age of 16- and which fades like the flowers of spring. "Fair daffodils, we weep to see ye pass away so soon...."

Beautiful is not the same as sexy. Barbara Windsor was sexy not beautiful. Beauty, however imperfectly we imagine it, is remote, a little inhuman. Venus is a goddess after all.

Don't touch. Lipstick smears, mascara runs, perfect hairdos get ruffled....

Do you know Merimee's story La Venus d'Ille? That'll learn you to keep your distance from goddesses. It's one of many iterations of the theme.

I am tempted to add that beauty has a spiritual quality, that true beauty is inward not outward, but that would be Quakery of me so I shan't....

Being a Quaker elder turns out to involve more than sitting in the corner looking venerable. It also involves dealing with people who bring untrained puppies into the Meeting for Worship. And doing so firmly but lovingly. It has a lot in common with the office of churchwarden in the dear old, corrupt old, silly old Church of England. Churchwardens it occurs to me, are issued with staves as a symbol of office- and not only as a symbol but also as a defensive or offensive weapon- used to keep order and maintain decency in the sacred building. It is essentially a quarter-staff as used by the outlaw Little John to thwack persons of whom he disapproved....

Picture Diary 92

1. The Lost Traveller's Dream Under the Hill (alt version)

2. Transformation

3. Cat lady

4. They have forgotten who they are

5. I sort of floated down the hill....

6. Weekend in Moscow

From mudlarking to metal detecting is just a tiny sideways step. And now I'm watching videos related to both.

When YouTube groks that you're interested in a subject it feeds you with more of the same- which is how I come to know more about the Beatles' break-up than anyone apart from Paul and Ringo. I wouldn't say I'm sick of the topic but I'd be glad if YouTube gave it a rest. Why did the Beatles break up? Basically because they grew up and got a life- or lives. Anyway I'm hoping the detectorists and mudlarkers will now push them aside.

Isn't it great that people with a hobby or interest to share no longer have to catch the eye of a cultural gatekeeper- publisher or producer- but can simply take themselves online.

Yes, a lot of what's online is low quality, but the best is as good as anything you'd find of TV. Indeed, better- because freer in content and less bound by formula.

I used to own a metal detector. It was one of the pricey things that went missing when we moved house. I'm afraid I hardly used it, except to amuse the grandkids. I knew a spot on the farm where you'd be guaranteed to find nicely corroded metal railings and tractor parts.

The value of a headless lead soldier you've dug up far surpasses that of an intact lead soldier you can buy in a shop or on eBay- and not just because it comes free. The one is only an artefact but the other is archaeology.

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poliphilo

February 2026

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