Church of England

Photo by Cosmic Timetraveler on Unsplash

I’m a private person I admit, but I live in openness

No secrecy for me, no lies — my memory is not that good

Oh how you bewitched me and yet failed me all the time

You took the money I put as offerings, the meals I brought

The errands I did for those who needed help

You bewitched me and then turned your backs

Free me, free me from the doctrines of the Niceans

Erase from me the falseness of Constantine’s mould

Unbind my mind from the lies you teach

And the occult in which you play out your rules

No one could have been crueler, not even a demon from hell

No one expects betrayal and sell out from those who call ‘sister’

Is given stones when they ask for bread or trust

Shunned when visited by violence in your offices

In law we have ‘habeas corpus’ — due process, transparency

But I learn to my abhorrence, you practice the arts of darkness

Straight from the pits of hell, and until I realised the trick

I thought I was insane, crazed, and my beliefs confounded

I thought so many times to drive into the harbour, into a bus

To take so many pills I would not wake again and feel such agony

Which I thought to be visited on me by God — but he is good

My child is far too beloved that you should steal from her!

You formed a file about me which had a direct lie within

The words of those who knew nothing of the assault on my person

And the vague references made had no sense to me at all

– because there was no veracity contained therein

You branded me a nuisance, a whiner, worse still a liar

Hearsay poured out, but in the wrong context — gossip dead straight

I was bewildered by your questions because they had no relevance

To me or anything I knew, seven false allegations

Wipe my mind clean, cleanse me O God, this pain is yours

They assumed an email was from me, but no, my ex’s concern for our child

Because his account was born in my pc and thus an alias of my account

But Lord you were betrayed by your own people

I will not again enter the doors of established Christendom — it does not exist

You follow Constantine not the Lord or his teaching of love

Jesus did not come to start a religion, but to make the way to God

Open again, and to stand in the gap for us. Not ways of the dark

I will flourish, I will blossom and you have cursed yourselves

In cursing me. May God forgive you if you admit your wrong I cannot

And no one should be allowed to join your church, your dagger poised,

To stab and ignore if they should fall foul of your world of ‘Vicar is God’

Published in Know Thyself, Heal Thyself


Some of my readers…

Some people come here to be nosey. There are people who behaved so badly as neighbours that they were mentioned in my blog. I never say where I live, and would never put my address on here.

They moved because they were stupid and don’t realise there are many people with that last name here.

I am so glad they are that stupid as they made my life untenable and refused requests from the council and even the police to stop causing me agonising pain.

Who does that? Who knowingly causes unbearable pain to another human being? Torture is a war crime. They were torturing me.

They send their minions to hassle me. They don’t live a purposeful life. They live with bitterness and unkindness.

I am enjoying better neighbours now. I have made a window box for them and passed some of my daughter’s childhood things to their children.

I enjoy giving pleasure to others. I always have.

The previous neighbour believed me to have fake accounts. I’m not sure what that means. The flowers I sent were returned. She has written to other people about me maliciously.

What a tiny, sad, mind.


I gave myself a day off…

As Wednesday had been so stressful, I decided to take it easy yesterday. I did start some writing but left it incomplete.

I planted a few plants and watered them all. They are suffering as they have been left too long. This is what happens when someone breaks their word. I am reliant on other people. I need them to be reliable. And they were paid with very good quality items.

I was in touch with friends in Malaysia and Leeds. Another friend in Reading always makes contact. My friends in Virginia are always there for me. Friends since I was twenty.

I went out for a brief time which made me feel better too. I can see the harbour from my window, but being outdoors outside of my garden was good.

I like to smile at people, I am surprised at how many don’t smile back. But others will be helpful. A man saw that I was struggling to put my scarf over my shoulder and did it for me without being patronising in any way. People like that are wonderful.

I now have to be treated for the side effects of so much steroids passing through my mouth. I have oral thrush which I have never had before.

It promises to be a bright sunshine day. I hope the temperature rises.


Yesterday was tough…

I had a very stressful day yesterday. I had to sort out a problem with the delivery man from the pharmacy. All good now.

Then the NHS trust that I work for asked me to complain to BT about a 999 call that caused delay in responding to my need. I had told them as a point of improvement. It turns out though, after three calls, that the emergency service required must deal with the complaint.

It was the most difficult day I’ve had in ages. I went to bed at tenish but woke t 4am.

Today is sunny. I shall try to do some planting in my garden.


Paramedics yesterday…

This meme is for amusement only. I don’t drink every day. Far from it.

Yesterday I awakened feeling pretty good. I was writing and communicating with my lead at SWASFT. I cannot say how wonderful these people are.

I gradually realised my chest was heavy. I went downstairs to open my post. After a package proved challenging, I found I could not breathe.

Paramedics, who were so much fun, fixed me. I felt alive again. One finished opening my package, took out my recycling, and made me a cup of tea. I am required to have a drink after nebulsation. It affects the mouth and throat.

I carried on after that with a smile in my heart.

I found the evening very tiring. The Subutamol had left me wired. And exhausted. I went to bed earlier than normal. I am up early and the birds are beginning to sing.


Carolyn Riker…

Blocked me when I asked her not to patronise me. Complete lack of self awareness.


Time For Ireland to Unite

Photo by Larry Feirerra

The photo above is the Antrim coast, it is volcanic and rugged. Immensely beautiful, and miles from the unrest.

Having lived and worked in Northern Ireland, I am devastated by the current civil unrest. Boys as young as eleven are being encouraged to throw petrol bombs at the police. They don’t understand why.

The reason children are being abused in this way is because Britain has put a border in the Irish Sea since Brexit happened. It means that British products are held up at Customs and Excise, while EU products flow through with ease.

The Unionists, those who want unity with Britain, are angry. They feel they have been sold a packet of lies. They are causing this violence, and using children in an attempt to avoid arrest and, I suspect, to teach another generation to hate the Catholic population.

There has been twenty years of peace. After a forty year period of intense violence and bloodshed. Murders in secret, the disappeared, the bomb blasts, the gunfire, the petrol bombs, all ended.

Neither side had moral victory or high ground. Both sides were full of hate and bitterness. Peace came after years of talks, talks before there were actual talks. John Major paved a way together with John Hume and others. Some want to claim it, but the real work was done by those who won the Nobel Peace Prize.

Now it is in jeopardy because of an oversight, quite knowingly, about where the border with the EU should be. It cannot be on the island of Ireland as that is what the conflict was all about. The Irish Sea is not a better option.

Historically, there has always been travel between the Republic of Ireland and the North. This resumed with the Good Friday Agreement. People cross it daily to do shopping, carry out business contracts and so much more. There is no need for a passport to be shown and no one to to whom to show it.

So why not unite the country as one on the island? This is the only logical thing to do. A united Ireland would solve so many issues. Of course, the Unionists would react. But, with time, everything would settle down. It is only the Unionist politicians who have an interest in keeping a division. The general population has lived in peace and a generation had grown without sectarian hatred. When I worked in bridging the two communities all the school kids wanted peace, wanted no hatred.

Any team sport in Ireland does not ask what faith it’s members are. No youth club asks for a declaration of faith. It isn’t hard. It is simply reverting to what once was.

I am for a united Ireland. I love the whole country. It is stunningly beautiful. I married it, and fell in love. My daughter is German and Irish.

Published in Grab A Slice with title Northern Ireland’s Unrest


A snack recipe and my breathing…

I eat a low carb diet to prevent insulin being in my system, but we need some for fuel when the weather is cold. I make this snack.

You need

Filo pastry rolled out very thin and cut in half

A pesto of olives – I use mostly black with a small amount of green olives

A pinch of kosher salt

Olive oil

On a greased baking tray, lay one half of the very thin filo pastry. Then spread the olive pesto. It needs to be even and thinly coating.

Lay the second half of pastry on top and lightly run the rolling pin over.

Brush with olive oil and sprinkle the kosher salt over the top.

With a sharp knife, cut into small bite sizes.

Place in a hot oven for 10 -15 minutes. Until golden brown. Allow to cool.

These are very tasty. The olive oil adds a warmth. Great with a refreshing drink. The olives can be replaced with basil pesto.

I have found it difficult to keep my breathing steady. The second course of antibiotics has worked but the cold weather has made it hard to maintain a steady breath. I’ve had to be outside a couple of times. I have had ventolin added to my meds for when I start to wheeze. It did not arrive until this morning so I had to use a neighbour’s a couple of times.

I am longing for warmer weather so that I can breathe well outside.

I have realised that the charlatan who ”helped” with my garden, also took the dust cover that I was using to paint my gates. It is not my dust cover. So that’s another expense. I had to buy more forget me knots as they are favourite flower, and despite explicitly explaining the difference between them and the weeds, he still pulled them up.

I paid him in kind. Generously. And then he had the cheek to describe it in derogatory terms. He told me he wanted nothing.

Another life lesson. A friend has helped me rescue most of the plants he promised to plant but never did. A real friend is coming later this week to help me plant the rest. Pete put some in water today so that they don’t die.

It’s not just Pete. It’s Pete Lambert.


A Prince Has Died

Today a Prince among men has died
royal in birth, a refugee, a child passed
from land to land.

He won the heart and hand of a Princess
wooed her, married, and served her well
renouncing his title to be her Prince.

Roguish, dapper, charming, and smart
he was unflinching in the task, he took no
flatter, no false position, tireless he worked
in science, youth, conservation, trees, he
gave himself, devoted to his Queen.

Now wear black, stop the clock,
a Prince is dead, our Queen in mourning.

Published in The Lark 09 04 21

I never realised what he gave up, or how he was a refugee from one year old. He was a born leader, but walked one step behind when his wife became Queen. He was her confidante, partner, advisor, and husband.

Men nor women love like this anymore.


Interview and Poetry with Aine MacAodha, Irish Poet

My Church Has No Windows

My church has no windows
in fact it has no doors either
and to be fair no altar
it has no ordained minister
or priest or gospels.
Its in my heart, in
the starry sky
the moon shining over the land
its the planets in our solar system
the sun when it shines or not
its the foods god/creator
left us, berries, leaves, nuts
my church has winter winds that
cut to the bone and to enlighten
I have the sweet smell of roses
as I follow the seasons.
It is bog cotton waving on an
early Autumn evening as the
sun bids farewell.
On nights like these
dark and Irish wintery
the familiar trees and hills
become ancient septs
ready for battle with the ether.
Fields caped in winter fog
appear as crafted cities of the dead
souls roam among the rushes
in search of utopia or a home.
Trees scan the darkened horizon
the wind calls out names too and
winter hangs around like a threat.
This is my church.
first published in Episteme magazine


           Between two Worlds

When sister Agnes, for my own good

left me standing at the back of class

arms outstretches like Jesus

on his symbol of torture, I was scared.

A dreamer and talker being the youngest

of five, I knew my rebellion had begun.

Living in two worlds at nine does wonders

for the imagination but little for the outer shell.

I wondered about this god of vengeance

being so good and all, why punish?

For I had the minnows in the burn

glimmering and darting like silver angels

over my feet as i walked upstream.

I had a voice inside that knew the beauty

in a mountain shadow, how to gather primroses

and lay them at the feet of our lady.

I felt i knew better than the dark nuns.

“First Published in Boyne Berries Spring 2014”


Meditation and Medication

Between the two
I drift along through the crisis
Of 6 rounds of chemo, an operation and waiting
Waiting on a bit of healing, guilt of wanting covid to hurry itself on
to some underground vault
and leave the world in peace.
Did it fall though the clouds
Rise up from the already polluted
Rivers fighting amongst the sea realms.
Have the species effected by plastics
oil spills
Clawing around the sea foam
Cause the virus?
I can’t think anymore
Need my meds
Need my meditation. 

I asked Aine about her journey…

I first began what I called poetry at the age of 9 /10ish reading from my mothers ballad books she purchased monthly. Many of them had rhyming couplets and she sang them a lot. when I would read them I’d change the words to suit my own stories and began rhyming and creating.
After many rejections I finally got noticed as a poet by getting poems in anthologies. i was happy that some editors liked my poems. Although I write short stories it was my poetry that got noticed first.
The journey was a long one. I set myself goals to submit to many of the Irish, UK and USA literary magazines. I did and perseverance payed off I had enough gathered for my first collection,
‘Where the Three Rivers meet’
edited and published by Jeffrey side of Argotist online who published a second. One of my first poems was published by Karen Bowles of luciole press and we are great friends since. i now think I have earned the title poet with the third book
‘Landscape of Self’ published by Lapwing Press in Belfast.

My passion is always ignited by the natural world, landscapes and old histories of a place and I travelled the length of Ireland visiting ancient burial sites and magical tombs. I’m so intrigued by the moon too since childhood and pay homage to it in my writings often.
I’m by nature an introvert so nature it all its beauty keeps my soul at peace and my words flowing.