New Year, for me, has always thrown a long shadow; not just because the sun is low in the sky at this time of year – but also because of the cultural implications. Or rather the lack of them. Culturally, the end of the year has no real meaning. For anybody.
Adam, Eve and the Apple: The Problem Of Our Past And Our Future.
It’s Christmas and you will need something to mull over when falling asleep over the Queen’s speech at three. Because, it’s more that Christmas is so easy to predict: it comes at the same time every year. It’s not like Easter that comes and goes as it pleases. Christmas is the same date, the same time every year. Year in, year out. Ask anyone when Christmas is and you’ll get the same answer. Ask them about Easter and it’s not so easy. Continue reading “Would You Adam And Eve It?”
A very long time ago, I visited the British Museum in London. In their great hall where they display their collection of monumental sculptures there stood two enormous creatures. They stand well over six metres high, that is nearly twenty feet and must weigh several tons. I knew they stood as guardians to the entrances to palaces in ancient Assyria, and as guardians were shown as godlike figures having human heads with bull’s bodies or that of a lion – and the wings of an eagle. Continue reading “The Five Legged Beasts Of Nineveh.”
MQ is a new charity – yes, another one – that looks into mental health. I can’t quite make out why it’s MQ, but that’s modern marketing for you and they don’t have a contact page so I can’t ask them.
What is interesting in the post I have linked to is the one thing Alex doesn’t speak of. She suffered from Schiz – schizophrenia – and all she talks about are the voices, the circumstances, her friends and how she couldn’t cope. She didn’t mention brain chemistry once…
This is her tale: “I became completely disconnected from the person I had been before.”
It would be in October that I received a telephone call. Unfortunately they didn’t leave a message and I thought no more of it. A week or so later and they phoned me again; in a reprise of the situation, I was not at home and as usual, had left my mobile phone at home. Mobile phones are handy, but given the fact that so few people phone me it’s the sort of thing I am prone to forget until I arrive at the railway station.
Having found another missed call with the same number, I did what would be expected of me, and that is to phone them back. I got as far as the switchboard of my housing corporation. The people who rent me my flat.
No, not my flat; their flat. It is important to remember these things: it might be my home, it is most certainly their house.
My problem was that the lady on the switchboard hadn’t a clue who had phoned me or why. Nobody had told her anything, nobody had told me anything. Situation normal here in Holland. Continue reading “Two Hundred And Twelve.”