The Sequel

 

Frozen canal on a beautiful day

I never meant to write a book. On my list of things to do, writing a book was not there. However, having written a book in 2025, I am starting a second. The first one was about Naser finding security in the UK after fleeing Syria. This one is about what happens next. Naser went back to Syria before Christmas to find out the lie of the land one year on since the fall of Assad. I told him he is crazy as he has not long got stability into his life and he has his family around him now. When we talk, I see things through Western eyes so our chats have opposing viewpoints and sometimes sparks too. The book continues Naser's story and the continuing dilemmas he faces as a refugee. So the thoughts are his, the writing is mine.

I have lived in different countries, not because I was forced to leave the UK, rather because I could. I always knew I would return to the UK to retire. Again, this has been my choice and while there are lots of things I don't like or admire about my homeland; it is my home, familiar to me, and I have safety and security. Even when the weather is cold, miserable and downright uninviting, I still feel blessed that we have seasons. The point is, I have the choice. Having a UK passport brings opportunities denied to so many other nationalities. 

For people like Naser, there was no choice. Nor are passports from some countries worth the paper they are printed on. Even more so than before, the world is polarising into "Us" and "Them". The more we build a fortress against "Them", the less empathy we have. I despair of the political state of a world where  kowtowing to bullies and accepting policies that lead to the destruction of our earth is the way to go. Even worse is the invocation of God as an excuse for domination. This week the Ayatollah proclaimed that protesters damaging buildings is an act against God and punishable by death. We learn nothing from history. 

For me, this week has been quiet. I have got excited about the Traitors, read my second book of the year and have done all the usual drudgery and played a bit of sport. 2026 has been designated the year to get people reading more. To be honest, I am not sure how my time has disappeared so far this year. I just hope I can find the time to squeeze in reading even more books than last year. 

I looked after Shadow overnight at the weekend. She is a poor old thing these days. She fell down my stairs and she fell off the kerb when we went for a "drag" up to the Navigation Inn. These days, she is a trip hazard around the house, lying down on a rug and not moving much. These things will come to me sooner or later. What a thought!

Ragebait

A reminder all is well with my world

Oh, the wonder of words! Ragebait was word of the year in a very notable dictionary. Apparently it describes the outlandish things people post to garner a negative reaction. The mere fact that this became the most popular word in 2025 must mean that intentionally annoying people online was the thing to do. Not only did it fill people's thinking moments, it also brought financial reward to the perpetrators. My hopes for this year are for people to be a bit nicer to each other if that is not too much to hope for. 

Words are important. I have been teaching my four-year-old granddaughter, "delayed gratification". She fully understands the meaning and is now happy to wait for her requests to be fulfilled. I think it means a bit more than patience as it implies reward for waiting. Having taught her this, I am now working on "existential crisis" which is to be used before having a tantrum. I am hoping she will pause and consider her actions before bursting into uncontrolled fury. 

When my children were small, I told them, "hate" was a bad word so if they thought they needed to describe their feelings they must use, "dislike something intensely" instead. These words don't slip off the tongue so easily. It made them think about the implication of, "hating". Only the other day as we were walking around Stowe Gardens, we talked about this and other words from Danielle's childhood that seem to have slipped out of our consciousness. 

For me, my vocabulary shrinks exponentially these days. I am reduced to calling many drivers dickheads - we all know men are especially bad behind the wheel. They can't hear me but it makes me feel better. Things I don't like are inevitably naff - and we all know the origin of that word. Whereas if all else fails, I drop a "bugger" onto my tongue. Surprisingly, I have enough language in reserve to do The Guardian crosswords each day. Sometimes the clues tickle the cobwebs at the back of my brain and I wonder where the answer really came from. By Jupiter! I mutter. At least I don't call my children by my old dog's name anymore. I used to call them anything but their own name as the right name was never on my tongue. 

The early morning sun hitting my decorations

On the home front, the weather is well into the sub-zero zone this week. This is an opportunity where us Brits describe this as being nippy or refreshing when it is actually bloody freezing to the rest of mankind! It is crunchy underfoot, the skies are blue and the sun is out. My village looks like a chocolate box picture. My plans, apart from taking the decorations down are to get out and enjoy it before it defaults to grey and miserable, if not a pea souper.

Betwixtmas

Taking the plunge

In many ways this is an awkward time of the year for many people. We forget what day it is and only mark the dates. Christmas eve, Christmas Day, Boxing Day, dead days and New Year's Eve. I had to think really hard about when to put pen to paper and get this written so that it can be published on a Monday. I truly was all at sea with what the day of the week was.  Even so, with my addled brain Christmas is always a joy. It starts when you see children dressed with tea towels on their heads for their Nativity and ends when you resolve to build a better life for yourself.  

So to the highlights... or low ones. I think my runny fondue goes down as a low light. I thought an extra slosh of white wine would make it just a bit more festive as a Christmas Eve celebration - it just made it too fluid. Then onto the over cooking the turkey legs which I thought would benefit from a spicy overhaul this year. These stayed in the oven an hour longer than they needed as I got too involved with playing cards. Whoops. The last culinary slip was pouring brandy over the pud and then finding a lighter that didn't work so I double-dosed it just to get the affect of a flaming Christmas pud. Dangerous.

On the upside... I did well on the card games. I have a reputation to maintain. It is a family tradition that goes back to my childhood when, over the festive period, we had parties at lots of different relatives' houses and each party was almost the same. Cold cuts, salad and pickles, Christmas cake and mince pies and card games. In the old days, and by this I am talking about the 60s, everyone made their own everything so Christmas was months in the making. The card games were different too. We played Newmarket - a gambling game with pennies and another game called knocking. Thinking back, I must have learnt these at a very young age. Canasta, a family favourite, was never played at Christmas. It was an everyday sort of game I played with my Nana. I am hoping one day I'll be able to play this with my grandchildren! 

I really lost two two days of this Christmas season as I had a tummy bug. This started with diarrhoea, followed by bouts of sickness through to Boxing Day morning. My plans for a long bike ride on Boxing Day went out of the window. I stayed in bed for most of the day and then went to bed early after slumping on the sofa. My time was filled with reading "We Solve Murders." 

And so to Sunday and a little bit of normality. Sunday mornings equal tennis so off I went - still a little weak from the tummy bug and played for about 2 hours. Then on to Woburn Lido for an outdoor dip in 12c for about 20 minutes followed by a gathering at a friend's house. 

Just me...

Perhaps once I have recovered my senses and sunk back down to my humdrum everyday life, I'll be more sensible and do things that are expected of old dears like me!

The Age of Reason

Tennis ball decorations! Not soggy

 As I am retired do I need a reason for watching Pride and Prejudice once again? Of course not. The 1995 BBC adaptation of Jane Austen's masterpiece has been my go-to as a cure for almost everything. The six-hour series is brilliant and as I have watched it so manty times already, I can almost quote every word. This time, there really was no good reason apart from it being the 250th anniversary of Austen's birth. Over the week, her works were torn apart and re-inspected from a 21st century point of view on both TV and radio and she still shines. Personally, I fell in love with the language. It is so quotable. If only nowadays we could argue in the same frame as Lady Catherine De Bourgh and Lizzie Bennett... I take no leave of you, slap, Nor do I wish you any compliments, slap... if only we could get away with these masterful put downs...How different our world would be. I am preparing to watch all her books adapted on BBC - my short cut to getting through them all and have time for a little tennis and other reading. What joy.

At my age I should be proud that I got yet another medal to mark the passing of another swimming challenge. My youngest grandchild wore it around the house with pride and now the medal has disappeared. I have a drawer in my house full of trophies and medals so I shouldn't mourn the loss of one more. The trouble with these little little gongs from my sporting past is I can't throw them away and I can't give them away. It was funny that at seventeen months of age she knew how to wear it. There are a few more left she can play with!!!

I got the t-shirt

Something I am a little less proud of her for is her unravelling a large ball of wool that I am crocheting a jumper with. I wanted this jumper finished in time for Christmas but it won't be. On Saturday, Mattaya picked up the ball and pulled it apart. Then she trailed it across the room, tripped over it, dragged it in the kitchen. It was not a dangerous pursuit, and heaven knows my house is not child-proof, so I left her to it. Even Shadow got entangled. I spent five hours after she left until well after midnight trying to untangle the tangles. It is still a mess and now I have resolved to cut it just so I can get on and finish the front and back. 

Tangled wool. Argh

I would like to think that I have finished all my Christmas shopping. I went to the supermarket and bought enough food to last until the end of January. Crazy!!! Getting it home is good for weight training!! I can't think of any other way to reframe the efforts I put into spending far too long getting around an overcrowded shop and feeling frustrated. I don't like shopping at the best of times and these were not the best of times. At least I am "almost" ready for Christmas and as Sunday is the shortest day, I also look forward to the world waking up to Spring in the not too distant future.... and I will have no need to do food shopping until February, hopefully.

The tennis club celebrates Christmas in style, a morning of tennis with soggy balls, mulled wine and lots of festive cheer. The weather is bound to improve as the days get longer and before too long it will be warm enough to wear a skirt again! 

Until that time in 2026, let's celebrate, be merry, and indulge. 

Reflections

 

The idea for my writing came to me while walking along the towpath at sunrise. The air was still. As I walked towards Wolverton, the mist slowly lifted to reveal the low sun ahead. It was almost perfect. I almost felt at one with the world.  The only spoiler was the constant growl of vehicles on the nearby dual carriageway. Ironically, this road had been in existence for a long time before the canal was dug. The road - The Watling Street - was first built by the Romans and runs from Dover in the South-east to Anglesey to the north of Wales. It cut through hills and was relatively straight way back then - quite a feat of engineering, as was the canal in the 1700s.

I expect the clatter of chariots was every bit as loud as the cars of now. As a child, my father often told me that this road had been built by The Romans and in my young stupidity, I thought the road surface had lasted remarkably well. Even since my childhood, the road has evolved. It has taken new routes, has been widened in places, has traffic lights and roundabouts - these weren't around in Roman times. This only goes to show that things are in constant flux and we don't really notice how much change has happened - even in my life time. 

I have also been thinking how lucky I am as the holder of a British passport. Most places in the world are happy to let holders of this passport in, even if we have to pay a little for a visa. Even if Trump decides that he is going to rummage through my social media before granting me the chance to travel to the USA, I am sure that being British will still hold sway so I could still visit without issues. However, I am not sure that I actually would like to pop across the pond these days. The glitz and glamour of America has faded. There is so much more to delight on my doorstep. 

We all look at the past through rose-tinted specs. Christmas was always bigger, better, cheerier... So do we try to recreate the past or do we re-invent it like we do with our transport systems. Are all the extra goodies in the shops there to recreate previous Christmases or are we persuaded to go one step further and buy even more things and adapt to new Christmas norms? I just think that these days I want to create memories and habits for my grand daughters  - not just commercial ones. Danielle is working hard on that too. She made an angel for the Lantern Festival and even though we didn't get to walk the route with it, it is a beautiful addition to the season! It even spent a short while at my place. Just maybe it will come back and visit me next year. 

Knee Jerk Reactions

 We are speeding towards Christmas and I have started buying in extra food as if I were preparing for a siege. I wouldn't want to be caught on the hop should anyone pop round to visit me. That would be terrible. In addition to all the extras I have bought, I am also writing lists for the BIG shop that will provide for Christmas dinner. This is an inbuilt reaction to the festive season and it comes upon me every year in early December. For me it has nothing to do with the adverts that encourage prolific spending. I don't even think it is a knee jerk reaction to seeing lots of red stuff in shops. I think it goes back to my pagan roots. After all, the Romans had the Saturnalia celebration at this time while the Vikings did their Yule celebrations. I cannot deny that I look forward to Christmas. It is especially special because there is still a big kid inside me. 

Beyond those all important lists and the party season, life goes on. I have got particularly annoyed with politicians having a negative knee jerk reaction to anything another party proposes. David Lammy wants to reform the courts. Not sure I totally agree with what he is trying to do but I do feel the sound bites that come out in response aren't considered and they certainly aren't helpful. Nor are the knee jerk reactions to the budget. It wouldn't have mattered what the budget consisted of, no one would say they liked any of it whatever. If a politician truly wanted to make the country a better place, surely they would think of providing other ideas to solve the problem rather than gunning down something said by an opposition party. Tis the season for reconciliation and giving. This should apply to democracy. 

While I'm on my soap box, I suggest we provide a benchmark for good behaviour between countries. Russia was initially banned from participating in international sports events because of its unwarranted aggression to Ukraine and Europe. This stance has since softened for Russia and now Israel has been granted a place in the Eurovision Song Contest. We flip flop and make the rules up as we go along. It does make me angry. Nobody in any position of power wants to proverbially call out bad behaviour and slap wrists. If there was anyone, Trump would be in the firing line! This is particularly so since he has received the first FIFA Peace Prize - Ultimate Arse-licking!

My book is being reprinted. This time the red stars that divide sections will be  printed black to keep the price down. My original thoughts were to put three red stars to represent the new Syrian flag. Maybe one day the first edition with the red stars will be a collectors item - I'm joking! 

I am actually feeling a little sorry for myself at the moment. I have a bone growth in my left wrist on the radius just like the bone growth on my right heel last year. Apparently bones developing lumps happens as a result of previous injuries. This one is about the size of a chickpea and it now hurts when I cycle. err. With all my previous bumps and hurts, I could have little lumps on lots of bits of my body. It doesn't bear thinking about. This is the stuff of nightmares!

Reaching Out

At the vigil

 My competitive, masculine, sporty side really likes statistics. They stick in my mind, motivate me and provide a barometer of sorts. So it was when I attended the Orange and White Ribbon Vigil last Tuesday at The Rose in Milton Keynes. The engaging speeches made me realise how close we all are to less than acceptable behaviour in what I consider to be a civilised country. The event celebrated and raised awareness of how we can prevent men's violence towards women before it happens. The message is represented by the White Ribbon. The Orange Ribbon represents a brighter future for all people. Leading up to the event, Ruth, from The Orchard designed The Tree of Life. She made an intricate framework decorated with crocheted animals, leaves and flowers that could fit over a pillar at The Rose. Hours of effort went into this piece and I feel rightly proud that it represented Wolverton Community Orchard. Super work, Ruth!

We gathered outside John Lewis in the city centre where a photo exhibition of the city's craftivism made by volunteer groups across Milton Keynes was exhibiting, and walked en masse to The Rose. It was rather nippy and obviously very dark even for late afternoon. Despite this, there was lots of support for the cause. It has left me wondering how we at the orchard can be ambassadors for the cause, advertising that it is a space were we call out bad behaviour. Events like this make me realise what a good place MK is. 

Leicester Square

Carnaby Street

Oxford Street

And so to London. I popped up to town to take in a show with Diane and Jeremy. We walked from St Pancras; taking in the Christmas lights along the way. Oxford Street disappointed - I expected nothing less. Every year they miss the mark. However, there is something magical about London that you can't find in any other city. Telling you that London has two thousand years of history, architecture from the Middle Ages rubbing up against the  post-war Brutalist blend amiably with colonial edifices doesn't really do it justice. In the little squares there are public gardens which are quite unexpected in such a large metropolis. I love London but I wouldn't want to live there. It is far too busy.

Our plan was to eat at a Syrian restaurant in Kingly Court in Carnaby Street - as if I never have Syrian delights! The restaurant - Imad's had wonderful food and my only disappointment was no knafeh! Kingly Court, an up-market hawker, was amazing. You could eat the whole world in this small part of London and the whole world was there to enjoy the experience too. Truly Global and totally amazing. 

Even more amazing is that my book has been read on four continents and it has only been published two months. Almost daily I check where it is in Amazon Kindle rankings. It has been as high as number 2 in Middle East literature and at the time of writing it is still fairly high. I know that there are over 1.7 million books on the site because it started off at the bottom of the rankings. More than the rankings, I really love it when people want to discuss the book with me. I am not after a pat on the back, more that the contents - Naser's story - is something they connect with and want to talk about. 

So with people from all over the world rubbing shoulders in London, and my book being read in places across the world, I see a brighter future - perhaps one represented by an orange ribbon.