Roy Tomkinson

Roy Tomkinson: Let us change the Political Landscape

2010-09-28T07:12:00.000-07:00

Roy Tomkinson: Let us change the Political Landscape

Let us change the Political Landscape

2010-09-28T06:11:00.000-07:00

Power is in the hands of the few, with not enough power at the grass root level; that must change; unfortunately, there is apathy towards politics in this country – in other countries also, because the ordinary citizen feels un-empowered. Feel politicians are corrupt - in the last government in any event - "are only in it for them, are only in it for the money, so why should I vote?"
We need a radical change in our Constitution, tinkering with an outdated system is not going to get us anywhere. Indeed, this government is rolling back the state, rolling back political correctness, rolling back the power of the state to control us, and a good thing too.
We need less government not more government, less interference in our lives, less control over our actions; less control over our every day affairs: but we need more (the individual - local communtiies, at micro level) control over our schools, more control over our councils, with a great say in our communities. In other words, people must be made to stand on their own two feet and not rely on the state for handouts.
It is not the state's job to grab and thieve, manipulate and punish the wealthy, for being just that WEALTHY, to take from one group and give it to another—to the lazy—to the work shy—to the alcohol—to the drug addict—to the overweight bloated eat too much; instead, it is the state's job to protect—the vulnerable—the weak—the minor from abuse; to crack down hard on criminals and to protect us against terror. It is the state's job to create a just and fair society, where reward goes to those who work, not those who shirk.
The Prime Minister should be elected directly by the people, the House of Lords should be elected by the people, have joint and equal power with Commons. Mayors should be elected - not just in London - throughout our country.
Our voting system needs revolutionising – radically - irrevocably, categorically, for trust must come back into the system, for large parts of the electorate feel disenfranchised, or feel their taxes are going towards keeping the work shy - genuine people, whether disabled, the old, the jobless, who are actively looking for work, those with mental illness, need state support, support to help themselves, not help ‘par se.’
It’s wrong when a parliamentary candidate, who gets less than 20% of the overall vote, wins the seat, whereby most of the voting electorate voted against the candidate in aggregate. There should be a fixed election date, and it should not be down to the Prime Minister to make the decision; this government, in fairness, is moving towards that target; that’s why many in the country are with them and give them support.
We need to hold our politicians to account, and not let them run away from us as soon as they are elected. Gordon Brown, from what Caroline Flynn has said, had run an oligarchic Cabinet (true or not it matters little, for he is past and gone).
We elect our MP to work for us, not for them to work for themselves.
Democracy must to be given back to the people. We, the electorate, must feel our vote will make a difference, our voice will be heard, our concern with be addressed, for we feel ostracised from the political system in this country, and that must change; indeed, MP’s must become more accountable to the people who elect them in the first place; again, a platform that this government is following.
The way to change the situation is to change the political landscape, and then the problem will dissolve. Spending cuts must be made, what we as a country make via taxation - our politicians can spend, but with restraint, always keeping a tight budget, always in control of our finances, never over spending for cuts must come – a fact of life – bleaters I have no time for, and neither should the government, nor anyone, for the state must be rolled back, and then we'll get somewhere.

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LIfe, Love, and Sadness

2010-09-25T05:39:00.000-07:00

Life is a funny thing, yet it can be a little sad.

Life is a funny thing – strange words you might think. And you might question. Funny as in ‘Ha! Ha!’ or funny as in strange. Let me clarify. Funny in a sad sense; I mean it to mean a contradiction in terminology.
Our lives are filled with inconsistency; our emotions towards life are Jack in the Boxes, never static, always on the move, up and down, up and down, our lives are in constant motion, and each of us have numerous facets, many of which we hide even from ourselves, and yet, we are all very similar, for we are filled, every last one of us, with contrary emotions when it comes to love.
For some, love is like a butterfly, flutter, flutter, flutter and it is gone, and we move on, but that is applicable mainly to the love of a man and woman. With children, it is somewhat different. That love represents more of the chrysalis - cocoon type of love, for parents very rarely leave that spot – love of our children is unconditional, giving of ourselves to our next generation, but could that be classed as hereditary? Are we programmed to do it for the survival of our own genes? The way that nature surreptitiously disguises our continual existence and calls it loves.
I have questioned myself many times what love actually is, what are the ingredients that makes up the mix? You can’t eat, smell, hold it. Physical it is not, but an abstraction, a firing in the brain of wanting the object of that love to be near to you.
A longing for that thing or person that fills the mind with warmth, and to have the feeling reciprocated, makes it even better, the bonus, a payback if you like. Though, it is not essential to make love happen, for often love is but one way, but it does make the emotion that so much more powerful and deeper if there is reciprocity. And yet, often, we just fritter it away by our own actions and feel sad when it flies away from us, and often, we don’t know how to get it back, lost in a world of our own making.
Some believe love is a physical sexual feeling with a partner, a sense of belonging: to own, to control, to manupulate, that person (wrong, but on many occasions used). We can hold emotion towards things - animals - inanimate objects. Your home, car, money, prestige, fame, recognition, adulation, have all been loved in some degree over and throughout the ages.
From a surgical viewpoint, love is but a chemical reaction in the brain and little else, but for me that is a journey a little far, a too simplistic and naive view of life of love of sharing. A living thing – a person, an animal, a child, is more than a chemical no matter how complex the mix. With a person, love can be as deep as a touching of two souls. For those of you who have ridden that horse, you’ll know to what I’m referring - I've been there, the ride can be bumpy; still, it is well worth the trip - it is one of the great wonders of life. Feelings and emotions are real, as real as beaches, mountains, trees, and far more beautiful.
You wouldn’t give your life for a beach, a mountain or a tree, no matter how beautiful, but you would, and often give it with a glad heart for love, if it meant saving that person whom you love. We all have experienced these feelings, every one of us in some measure – more or less, most people wouldn’t willingly give their life for an object, but would for a person, but here again, nothing is that straightforward. Millions throughout history have given their life for an ideal, the love of democracy is but one example.
Some demonstrate only a love for money, - sad, but true - and place it above all else, and yes, they would die in the getting of it. Everything pales into insignificance when it comes to money for these people, and quite a few, who have won and lost it, can’t live without it and commit suicide rather than face a future alone without the crutch of wealth to ease their pain.

Can you start to see why I believe life is funny in a sad sense?

Now I’ll get to the crux of the matter - the wonder -to share with you what love means to me. To answer that age-old question, I will refer to my father. A far wiser person than I'll ever be, and what it meant to him.
But first, I need to set the scene. When I was young and in the garden with my father, with whom I spent a lot of time, he told me when he was young that once he found a thrush’s nest with five little chicks inside. The parents had been killed, and my father removed the nest and chicks and placed them in a box.
They belonged to him, he had given them life, at the least, he had certainly saved them from death, so he reared them, and then he let them go, and of course, they flew away.
“Did you not love the birds daddy?” I asked.
“Of course,” he forcefully replied.
"Why let them free?"
He looked at me and smiled. "Son, if you love someone let the love go free, to fly, to run, to jump; yet, make the staying that much more than the going away, and if love stays, that is love, for love is free, freely given, freely received and truely, it must be a synonym for happiness."
My father, indeed, was very wise.

Religion: Who'd be Having it?

2010-09-25T04:43:00.000-07:00

Well, Christians, Catholics, all other religions, God people generally - why is there so much abuse reported - mental, sexual, forced conformity, to name but three. Honestly, I just don't understand it. Many Christians-God people-turn to religion because they are not strong enough to stand on their own two feet, indeed, many-(not all)-need a crutch by which to get through life, to believe in the impossible, to believe they are immortal in their God, to believe in something more that just themselves, and for them to then be abused, is shameful; the strong preying on the weak.

There are more manipulators in the Christian School (I'm referring to all and every religion) as a whole, than in any other profession. For that’s what it is, a profession, pure and simple, nothing more, nothing less, in today’s world, God, call him what you will, shouldn’t be taken than seriously.

We are an enlightened people and we should start behaving as such. Throughout history, religious beliefs have killed more innocents, started more wars, changed more cultures, many for the worse, than anyone can count.

So I say, if you wish to practice religion, you should be free to do so, free to follow whatever path in life is your journey without interruption, without prejudice, without persecution, without trying to change other people, but perhaps that is asking too much of society. A little tolerance goes a long, long way, no tolerence goes no way, not even as far as to the toilet.

Neononckle, my latest novel to be published in a few weeks,

2010-07-28T09:14:00.000-07:00

Life on the Edge

Neononckle

First

Chapter

Enjoy

Chapter 1

Hello? Hello, is anyone there? Right, I’ll begin. I’m known by the family as Neononckle. When I asked why, my Dada told me I reminded him of a nonckle. I don’t know what a nonckle is, but I know how much my Dada loves me, so it must be good. Anyway, whether I like the name or not, that’s what I’m stuck with, and there’s an end to it.
I’m four years old. Not any ordinary four-year-old, mind you, but a special one; my Mammy, Daddy and grandparents - Dada and Nana - have all told me so. I don’t know whether that means I’m special just to me, or I’m special just to them, or special to everyone, but either way I’m special. So there you have it; I’m a special four-year-old.
I’m not without my problems, mind you - being four is not all plain sailing; it’s not all roses and napkins, I can assure you. I have many things to contend with - school, parents, and grandparents, as well as a sister who can be a pain in the neck, and two dogs that seem to follow her in behaviour sometimes. Overall, I’m learning to handle them, but sometimes it takes the occasional cry to get them to do what I want. On a few occasions when they are particularly difficult I resort to a full-blown strop, but generally I don’t have to go this far - they’ve given in long before then.
The other major problem is writing. I’m only four, remember, and four-year-olds are not renowned for writing books. I’m able to handle the E’s, N’s, and O’s; I’ve had enough practice writing my name so there’s not much difficulty there. But the S’s, Q’s, Z’s, Y’s and X’s - that’s another matter; they give me no end of trouble. They’re a pain to get right - the letters are just too squiggly. So how can I write this book? You can see the problem, can’t you?
Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention earlier - I’m also precious as well as special. My Dada told me I’m more precious than all the gold and diamonds in the world. I did ask if that included the moon and stars as well, but he said there’s enough on this planet to make me precious, so I didn’t pursue the matter. I know my mother has a gold ring and my Nana a gold bracelet, but was assured there’s tons of the stuff all over the world and that’s how precious I am. As for diamonds, I don’t go a bundle on them; they’re girly things and I haven’t fallen for that one, but I’ve definitely settled on the gold, though I would have preferred to include the stars as well. Dada did say that he loved me as high as the stars, so I left it at that just to make him feel good - he’s old and needs all the encouragement he can get.
Anyway, it’s time to get on with the story. As I said, being four has its problems, but slowly I’m overcoming them. The pressure at the moment is just bearable - only just, mind you - but bearable, so I’m not grumbling; well, not too much anyway. Back to the problem of the book: I’ve asked my Dada to stand in for me and do the writing; I only hope he’s up to it. He mumbles a lot, but I don’t think he’s at the stage where he needs to borrow my napkins just yet. Anyway, they would be too small for him; he pees an awful lot, especially after drinking beer.
This was a big decision of mine because sometimes he doesn’t listen and thinks he knows best. I’ve had to curtail that runaway attitude of my Dada on many occasions, but latterly he’s responded well, which helped me make the decision that he was the right man for the job - I only hope I won’t live to regret it when I grow up.
Oh yes, another thing; my Dada is not too hot on the old spelling, but he assured me there would be no problem if he used the spell check on the computer. Just to be on the safe side, I’ll ask my Mammy to check it over, but I won’t tell Dada. It’ll be our secret - they get so sensitive at his age to criticism.
Let’s get down to the start. I cannot remember being made or how I was put together in the first place - all that belongs to grown-ups - but they said I was a love child. I expected they kissed or something, and there I was in my Mammy’s tummy. My Mammy explained that I’m made from both her and my Daddy, and I will know more when I get older.
“But I’m already four,” I protested.
However, my mother said, “It’s still too young.” I mentioned earlier that parents could be a problem. I hope you can see what I mean. They must at times be handled like a piece of porcelain and are always prone to chip with age.
On many occasions I felt my parents were abusing my basic human rights, going back to the time I was conceived - that’s before I was born, mind you. I have a right to know where I come from, and if I knew the number I would phone ChildLine to make my protest known. My Mammy has already taught me how to use the telephone and I can count up to ten and more, so she knows I can do it if pushed.
But this blackmail got me nowhere, in fact the direct opposite, so it was futile to take it any further. My mother needed a greater frightener to reveal how I was made and I couldn’t think of one, so I wet my pants in retaliation but said it was an accident and resolved to have it out with Dada. He’s far easier to handle than my Mammy, but needs to be asked the most basic of questions several times before he responds.
Anyway, after I was made my mother carried me in her tummy for about ten months. I don’t know why she did that. It seems such a stupid thing, but grown-ups are sometimes stupid. It would have been far better if I’d been born straight after the kissing, which would have made it easier on my Mammy’s body, and for her to explain. She could then have avoided the subject and saved herself a lot of embarrassing questions.
But grown-ups go the long way about everything and make a feast out of the smallest of morsels, building the simplest questions into gargantuan proportions. To be fair, I suppose I am very small, but nevertheless you would have thought they could have gone about explaining the subject a lot easier - but it wasn’t to be! It was swings and roundabouts before we even got to the start, and I’d lost interest long before then, and was colouring a picture of a horse.
Right then, as I said, I was stuck with my mother for ten months, joined at the belly button so to speak. That’s a long time to be stuck constantly inside anyone, even if it happens to be your mother; and what made it worse, I had no say in any part of it. Do you know, she was even breathing for me, which I think is a bit of a liberty.
I never saw my father or my Dada or Nana for the whole of that time; that’s another thing I intend to bring up with ChildLine, being deprived of my father and grandparents for nearly ten months, kidnapped in my mother’s stomach. That’s got to be good for a bag of sweets to keep my mouth shut. One thing I don’t understand, though, is why she couldn’t wait to get me born and out of her stomach? Why keep me there in the first place if she was that keen to see me out? Another grown-up thing I don’t understand. They’ll have a lot of explaining to do when I reach five and am grown-up enough to understand these things.
Back to the stomach, or should I say the cave: there was no light; it was very dark, oh yes - except when my Mammy went for a wee. I did get a bit of light then, but not a lot - in fact, so little it’s not worth talking about. I only mention it to show she wasn’t totally selfish at that time, even though she had many mood swings.
One time - I nearly forgot this - she went through a period of drinking lots of water; my Daddy called it a pregnancy fad. Apparently, these fads are quite common and are designed to make husbands feel uncomfortable and to keep them on their toes, having them running out in the middle of the night looking for a pickle with buttercup jam on or something to keep them happy. The woman knows there can be no retribution at this time, and they milk it like a dairymaid in days of old before those big machines, until the udder is sore and dry from the pulling. They do say that many men go bald over this period, something to do with hormonal imbalance and testosterone, but again that’s for grown-ups to work out. The only balance I need to worry about nowadays is how to keep it in until I get to the toilet, and that’s hard enough at my age.
My Daddy goes to the pub when he needs a rest and orders a pint of beer and complains to his friends about the pressure the pregnancy is causing to him. My Daddy said men complain a lot more than women about pregnancy on account of the extra stress on them and the prenatal strain they are constantly under. But they keep it away from their wives, which I think is a very considerate thing to do, and mention it only when at the pub where they get the maximum understanding and sympathy, while cradling a pint of beer with their mates, practising the cradling technique for when the baby is born.
The common complaint is their wives don’t understand them over this period. One man, poor devil, even had to reduce his hours at the pub to five nights a week instead of the normal seven; apparently, the pressure on him was pitiful to behold as he was forced to stay in two nights a week with his wife.
“Women don’t see this side of their men,” the barman commented, “or they wouldn’t be so heartless,” and it was generally decided, most men nodding around the bar in agreement.
“If only the wives could see how we suffer without complaining,” one man sitting at the end of the bar remarked, looking deep into his pint glass.
The continual drinking of water by my Mammy meant what goes in must come out, sometimes behind trees, behind hedges, behind walls if she was caught short. For a little while I did think with all this daylight she was exposing me to, I may have to resort to factor 30 suncream, but the fad stopped as quickly as it started and my Mammy quickly moved onto some other fad, to my immense relief.
My Daddy also started to drink more over this period, and frequently disappeared into a hedge or around a tree, but that’s understandable. I, being a boy and all, could not help but admire his strength of character in handling a very difficult pregnancy. It wasn’t easy you know, trouble from start to finish, my mother being all over the place and sick most mornings. It’s always the man who suffers on these occasions; my Daddy reckons women, talking generally, will never admit to it.
This suffering could only be shared with their fellow mates down the pub where there would be oodles of sympathy, providing there were no women around who could overhear them, or all hell would break out. But even when the men were in their bastion of relative safety, there was still the pressure of being overheard and misunderstood, so they needed to be as careful as if they were Protestants in a Catholic country that still practised burning of heretics.
I was still in her stomach, remember. I had legs and arms and was totally in touch with all my mother’s moods and emotions and went through them all with her. The crying, the laughter, the ups and downs - it all affected me to a greater or lesser extent.
If she cried, I felt sad; if she was nervous, I was nervous; when my Mammy laughed, I laughed. I was part of her body and she mine, and I could read her like a book. We were one person with two minds. My Mammy was forming my personality even before I was born; my love was growing for her daily as my little body grew in hers, and I often heard her talking to me and tapping her stomach to give me reassurance.
The only way I could answer was to move, to show I was happy and understood. It wasn’t the words she used - language was a foreign notion to me, I couldn’t even gurgle - it was the tone I was able to pick up on, the vibrations she used to convey them. Each word had warmth, a nuance of love in every letter, and I responded in the only way I knew how, by kicking her until her stomach rumbled like a volcano, a volcano of love, that could only happen between mother and unborn child. But here I am getting sentimental and I haven’t been born yet.

Read a part of "The Tour" What a story!

2010-05-18T02:28:00.001-07:00

http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=onqn1J5hCoMC&lpg=PA1&ots=bzBAqHDpNM&dq=Roy%20Tomkinson&pg=PA1#v=onepage&q&f=false

Find me of Twitter

2010-04-27T07:38:00.000-07:00

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The Book Show Earls Court London

2010-04-27T07:33:00.000-07:00

Last week end I went to London - Earl Court - to the Book Fair, three days, but it was half empty due to the volcano. A lot of exhibitors were not there, so a bit of a disappointment. My latest Novel was not displayed for buyers. And to top it all the three days were most expensive - I could have gone on a two week holiday abroad for less. But not to worry, there is the New York show in June.

No matter, the summer is coming, I always like the spring and summer, renewal, everything comes alive – the days grow longer. Weather gets slowly warmer – should – I’m still waiting!

A few years ago I planted a load of acorns in a large tub; I have about a dozen little oak trees: I will plant them out next year – give them a chance to live. Oak trees live for about 200 years, so these little saplings – if I plant them correctly - will be sunning their little leaves long after I’m gone and even forgotten.

There is the wonder in nature, constant change. Every little bit of life, no matter how small or large strives to live, to prosper: fulfill the potential giving it by Nature. The longer I live the more I look at life – my journey – as a blip, my blip, in a big wide world, itself of which is but a blip in our universe, and the universe another blip in the wider cosmos, and so it goes on ad infinitum forever turning on the wheel of fortune.

Wow! I’m getting all philosophical, stop it Roy, but it’s true, so I make no apology for writing what I feel. Anyway, that’s all for now forks.

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2010-04-26T12:06:00.000-07:00

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Log Twenty, New Zealand from the 27th to the 31st of January

2010-02-16T16:26:00.000-08:00

(27th Wednesday January)
Up at 7.40am and to the gym, a good workout, and home by 9.30am and fruit for breakfast. The fog this morning was heavy, by the time I came out of the gym a lot of the fog had lifted. I worked on a synopsis for most of the morning, after lunch, I went down the library to print out what I had just written. Also, I took a few books back and brought out four more, two by Fay Sampson, one by Stephen J. Rivelle the other William Riviêre, my next four reads after the book I’m currently reading.
The sun came out for the rest of the morning and afternoon, but by the evening the clouds were back in force with distant thunder. So I think we are in for more rain before the sun comes back, but it’s still very warm, around 34 Degrees.
(8.50pm) Watching TV, and then to bed, log short and sharp today.
(28th Thursday January)
I woke late this morning, 9am, I was going to the gym but changed my mind, there were clouds in the sky and the forecast was for rain, but up until lunchtime there were clouds but the rain kept off, and for most of the afternoon so I went into town to the library.
Now (9.15pm) the rain is pouring down, there have been 20,000 lightning strikes so far today, nothing more happened today, so a short log.
(Friday 29th January)
I woke at 8am and the weather was sunny and decided to go to Napier. The car journey took me two hours, just follow highway 5 and it is straight into the city centre. The place is smaller than I expected, but the place didn’t disappoint, the town is next the sea, (Pacific Ocean) build in a grid fashion after the earthquake in 1931. Most of the town was destroyed in the quake and was re fashioned.
The houses are quaint, bright colours, and art deco type of environment. Many outdoor cafes line the streets with places to eat and take refreshment.
I sat in the memorial gardens, not a big place, quite small in fact, with small fountain, there is a larger one near the seawater’s edge. The flowers are in abundance. I sat, listened to birds sing, the place is tranquil, it makes one think. I listened to bells playing tunes – campanile I think they are called.
I walked around the town taking in the sights, admiring the houses, and it was fun, and wished I could have gone inside a few and seen how they looked from the inside. I took a stroll along the water front, a fete was going on, music, dancing, stalls, everyone enjoying themselves in the sun, I stay to listen a for awhile and then walked on. Further down there is an Aquarium, I paid the entrance fee and spent a pleasant hour there looking at what was on display. One tank has a huge turtle in it swimming back a forth. The creature looked magnificent but I did feel somewhat sad to see in caged.
These creatures travel thousands of miles in the open sea only coming to land to lay their eggs and then back to sea, they, like many other sea creatures are the gypsies of the sea, and here this one is stuck in a small tank. I have seen turtles in the open ocean, swam with them 30, 40 metres below the sea, once I hitched a ride on one's back and together we swam on for a few minutes. That experience immediately came into my mind as I stood and watched the creature, I looked into its eyes, and I thought I saw sadness there, but perhaps that was just my imagination.
The other exhibits were equally enthralling, the lot of the tanks have open tops and you can look down at the fish, a few had Cray fish, large antennas each side of their heads, for all my conservationism, I felt like picking one out of the water and eating it.
I travelled through a glass tunnel, fish overhead and all around me, sharks, stingrays, barracuda, jacks, were all there on display. Two swimmers moved on the water surface above the glass tunnel snorkeling, if you pay extra you could enter the large tank and swim with the fish. I didn’t, I’ve seen these fish in the open sea many times, and was not motivated to enter their artificial domain.
Leaving there I walked back to the car along the water’s edge for part of the way, the only thing I disliked about the place was the long straight beach being all small pebbles, no sand – but that was to be expected bearing in mind the history of the place.
From sun lotion to rain in a matter of minutes, but I managed to get back to the car in time – well almost, I was a little wet when I ate my lunch, a few crisps with a cheese and onion sandwich I’d made that morning.
At 3.30pm I started for home, the clouds were back in force, the rain belted down, still warm, but grey and I got into Taupo at 5.30 to see the sun again. There was no rain here, people bathed in the lake, boats crossed each other on the water. Picnics abounded on the waterfront. I know I’ve said it a few time before, but this country is still amazing, from sun to rain back to sun in an eye lash, from scorching sun to skiing in no time to thundering storms in the same afternoon. What a contrast, and I love it.
I called into Woolworths for the weekly shopping, didn’t need a lot this week, and home. The evening saw me watching television and reading. And you got it, Taupo weather turned, there was one hell of a storm, rain lashed down, a virtual deluge, lightning, thunder, the Full Monty. I left the window blinds open and watched it overhead, and I enjoyed ever moment – there is something grand and mysterious in watching the power of nature unleash it fury, in bed by 10.20pm, read a little and straight to sleep.
(Saturday 30th January)
I wake a 6.30am, the mist was low, all the rain the day before left the place in fog. I was up and out almost immediately and went to the gym, but it was closed so I walked around the harbour and the lake, when I got back to the gym it was open. It is a twenty-four hour gym, but I am not on that tariff. I worked out for an hour and half: boy did I sweat, got back in the house at 9.30am. The fog had burnt off by then and sun was out: I was very warm, but the gym might have had something to do with that. A quick breakfast and then up to fetch my grandson to go swimming.
We arrived at the pool 10.30am and had a great time, loads of slides and swimming, we were there for 2 and a half hours, and then back to my house, a quick lunch and then his nap. Later we went to Woolworths, we needed ice cream – actually, my grandson insisted we need ice cream, so to the shops we went. He originally wanted to stay the night but changed his mind so I took him home.
The evening saw my reading. The latest E. Chadwick, `The Greatest Knight,’ William Marshal, to date I’ve read five of her novels. I’ll read the others when I get home in Wales.
I’ve taken the complete works of Jane Austin on loan, and I intend to read them over the next few weeks along with the other books I borrowed. I have read a few of her novels in the past, but this time I want to look at her writing from an academic viewpoint.
Her total output was, to my knowledge six novels, Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, being the two most successful, her other four novels are Emma, Northanger Abbey, Persuasion, and Mansfield Park – her novels enduring success is down to her characterisation, and to a lesser extent her plots, but I intend to attach her novels with an open mind. So for the next few weeks I have quite a lot of reading to do. But I enjoy it so, it’s no great chore, but I will be reading other novels as well: Austin’s works I will be dipping into periodically - in and out of, so to speak.
The evening saw, rain, lightning and thunder back, and it lasted until I went to bed at 10.30pm after a few glassed of red wine, I read for a while and I slept like a log.
(Sunday 31st January)
I woke at 9am, I don’t thing I moved all night, after the exercise yesterday little wonder. I feel good this morning, energized - the clouds are around with a keen wind, but that matters little. I’m to have a day of rest today - listen to music and read – life is good, but time is moving too quickly for me. I’ll be the 1st of February tomorrow, and I need to start travelling a lot more over the next few weeks if I’m to do all which I have planned.
There is so much I wish to do, writing is but one of them and I need to make time for that also, but I can always do that when I get back to the UK. Normally I am very good at planning my time, but things have gone a little Topsy-turby since I’ve been out here, but I have read authors I would not normally read, so there is also a learning process going on, for me learning is a like owning a dog. It’s for life.
I’m cooking tonight for seven people, (12.20pm) but everything thing is prepared, I had intended making pork shoulder stuffed with apricots – a new recipe I wanted to try, with roasted vegetables, but changed my mind. I want to read this afternoon not cook.
So it’ll be spaghetti bolognas with potato wedges in garlic, oil, and herbs – I have this down to a fine art. For dessert, I am making a coconut cake with chopped apricot-raisin filling (sauntered first in a pan with a little raw sugar) with custard to serve. A tip: place a small amount of Vanilla Essence with the custard, it makes a bit difference to the taste.
(24.50pm) I just made the cake for dessert this evening: coconut with apricot chippings inside, the top of the cake (I’ll turn it upside down) dried apricots, which I boiled and grazed with raw blown sugar which are embedded in the top of the cake – in the over for around 25 minutes, the rest of the time I’ve read.
I’ve tried to get into Fay Samson’s novel, `The Silent Fort,” it’s a short novel, I’ve read 25% of it but that’s it, I can’t get into her writing, I have another of her novels `The Land Of The Angers,` but I’m not reading it, both I’m taking back to the library later this week.
The clouds are in for the day, wind also, the leaves on the trees are moving rather strongly in the wind, outside my window it’s all trees, it’s really beautiful, anyway, back to reading, and then I’ll lay out the evening meal, plenty of time yet.

Log Nineteen, New Zealand from 22nd to the 26th of January.

2010-02-16T16:05:00.000-08:00

(Friday 22nd January)
I woke around 8.30am and went straight to the gym in the car, the clouds are still with us and it rained throughout the night, but it’s brighter today and not raining now (10.11am), in fact, I can hear the birds singing. But from the weather forecast it is due to rain later this afternoon so I can’t see me going to Rotorua today, but I haven’t made up my mind yet, I’ll read for awhile and then make a decision.
I went shopping, spent quite a bit, bought loads of mince and a leg of lamb and a few bottles of wine. Later in went swimming, the pool is good, part of the pool is indoors and part outdoors, and you can move from one to the other at will. There is a Sauna and a Steam room: I used them both. I called into Woolworths on the way back and purchased a few items I didn’t pick up this morning and home.
I for my evening meal, potato wedges in garlic and herbs, two eggs and a few beans, most enjoyable indeed.
The rain is still with us, but it did come a little brighter after lunch, but now, it’s rain – rain – rain, but the plus: it’s warm.

Funny really, a few day ago I was watching a television programme on fat people; tonight, there is another on Anorexia, and believe me, it moved me.
Seeing these people make really sad, the same sadness you see in fat people. They want to be different, but just don’t seem to know how. I feel like shouting at them, call them stupid, and to pull themselves together, stop mourning, get on with it, and sort yourself out, with little understanding as to how they feel.
It is easy for someone like me to say, just eat and exercise, count your calories, and there you go, easy really. But it’s not that easy for them. I’m starting to believe it’s a mental problem, these people, without exception are sad, they see themselves as life failures, and that annoys me to hell, negativity and failure I find hard to accept.
They feel inadequate and think they are fat, fat people thing the opposite, and believe they need to be thin – they have no balance in eating, or in lack of eating, their life choices are crap, and that’s exactly what it is, life choices, the key work is CHOICE: THEY HAVE CHOICE, BUT THEY FEEL THEY HAVEN’T, there is an alternative!
The problem is mental: the answer - I haven’t an answer, perhaps support, more understanding, that, coming from me, is indeed a revelation. Normally, I have very little time for people like that who cannot control their life, but I do feel sadness for them. I should thank my lucky stars I am not like that, and instead of looking askew at them and thinking them weak ineffective people that needs a good kick up the backside. I must look and see them as individuals who are not past the pall and need understanding, everyone somewhere inside themselves have their own devils, and just because mine in not diet or weigh, or lack of weigh, there must be an observant acceptance by me. Enough said.
(Saturday 23rd January)

I woke this morning to a knock at the door, my son 7.50am, he is off to work and I’m having my grandson for the day and the night. My son and his wife are spending Saturday night at the Hilton, with all the trimmings.
I spent the morning playing with my grandson and cooking. I did beef and chicken curry and marinated a leg of lamb for cooking tomorrow and sorted out two dishes of lasagne. Later, I took my grandson swimming, we had a great time, they have a long tube slid and we had load of goes, it was stupendous. There are several different pools, you can even hire a small private pool if you so wish. The water is warm, thermally heated from the ground.
The weather is still cloudy but that does not matter, we had a great time. The pool is tremendous and the slid... Well, I could go on for `yonks,’ but I won’t. We arrive back at 5.30pm and we were shattered: had dinner at 7pm, and my grandson went to bed and I had lasagne with a baked potato with a few glasses of red win.

A good day, a very good day, and (8.50pm) I’m watching television now. The novel I’m reading now is by Bernard Cornwell, “The Lords of the North.” The last novel I read; the Agatha Christie novel at the time of the Pharaohs was really good, the time period, quite frankly, was irrelevant, it was a murder, `who done it story’ typical Christie. I have one more novel to read and then, it’s back on to E. Chadwick, “The Greatest Knight.” Late evening, I watched television and in bed my 11.30pm and read for awhile.
(Sunday 24th January)

Up at 8am, my grandson must have been tired after yesterday, normally he’s up a 6.30am; we had porridge for breakfast and I read a little when he played with his toys. I will be freezing the meals I prepared yesterday. Later, there will around 29 meals in all, the cost, around $2 per portion, so quite good.
I must cook the meal, leg of lamb - later. I will be doing it with a herby crust in tomato and red wine. I know this meal. I’ve prepared in many times with roasted vegetable. Pumpkin, carrots, potatoes, boiled and roasted, peas, plus mixed vegetables, all done in the oven. There’ll be six for dinner tonight. For dessert, I’m frying whole bananas in butter caramelised with brown raw sugar and topped with syrup to serve, accompanied by a whole meal biscuit.
The weather today has changed, the sun is out in force, there a few clouds in the sky but not many, it’ll be a warm sunny day today, and after the rain the last few days, welcome it is, I can tell you. Need to go out shortly to do a little shopping at Woolworths, don’t need a lot, mushrooms, a few peppers, raisins and currents – that’s about it.
(Monday 25th January)

The meal last night went well, we had a few beers and a few more and finished with a glass of port. I woke at 8am and felt good, slept like a log last night and after breakfast and a little read I went to Rotorua, just got back (4pm), The smell is quit powerful when you get there, sulphur permeates the air and smell a lot like rotten eggs.
The lake is lot small then Taupo but large enough to have a few quite large boats, a water plane and a helicopter. But the water is not as clean as Taupo, the water quality is getting better but it will take a few years yet. Because of the fallout from land fertilisers, and until quite recently sewerage went untreated into the lake. All that has now stopped, but it will take many years for the bacteria in the lake to break down. Don’t get me wrong, the water is clean enough to swim in, but this country is after pristine in its water quality and goes out of its way to make it so.
This weather is funny and takes quite a bit of getting used to, this morning, I was using factor 30 against the sun: this afternoon, I was in a thunder storm, thunder and lightning everywhere. I can’t see me ever going back to Rotorua, I was a little disappointed with it. Not sure yet where I’m going tomorrow, I’ll see what the weather is like first in the morning. But despite the weather I did a lot of walking.
(26th Tuesday, January)

I woke to rain and more rain, thunder and lightning filled the sky all day, the noise - crashing and flashing without stop, clouds low and grey, the last day and a half has seen over 15,000 separate lightning strikes.
I didn’t leave the house for the whole of the day, but I quite enjoyed it, I just read, finished the Cornwell novel and almost finished the E. Chadwick, quite a substantial novel, dressed only in a pair of shorts. From the weather forecast it looks to be the same tomorrow, the storm has been overhead since yesterday afternoon and is still going on (6.05pm) with no sign of stopping, at this rate I’ll never get round the island.
I was going down the library but decided against it, I need to update my log, perhaps tomorrow. But I’m not particularly worried; I have another two months out here so there is no rush.

Log Eighteen New Zealand 21st of January 2010

2010-02-09T18:16:00.000-08:00

(21st January Thursday)
I was up like a lark this morning at 7am and straight down the gym, the weather was as expected, it rained heavily throughout the night and is still with us this morning, glad I didn’t have to walk to the gym in this weather; it’s around a 1000 steps from my door to the gym door. Worked out for over an hour and a half, got back just before 9 am, and had breakfast. I will not be going to Rotorua today, it’ll take around an hour and twenty minutes to get there, and by the looks of things, I may not go swimming either – not a lot of fun in the rain.

The forecast is for rain all day and for the next two days, so I’ll have to see how things fan out. No worries I’ll use the time to read, I’ll really enjoying my time reading, it’s not often I can just sit back and read for hours on end, but it is at the expense of my own writing.
(10.12am) I am sitting at my table writing a synopsis to send for Book Nine, outside my window the rain is hammering down, and yet it is warm. The last time I saw rain this heavy was in Thailand in the rainy season, the sky is filled with dark grey clouds, and it looks pretty miserable.
(12.19) With all the rain we’ve had this morning, I’ve just notices there is water coming into the bathroom in the corner near the toilet tank. It’s not a lot, but I have informed the landlord, better to get it sorted straight away, the landlords is a friend of my son, a really nice person. It’s stopped raining now but the sky is full of clouds so there is still more to come from the looks of things.
Just finished writing my synopsis for Book Nine, need to get it off now to a publisher, but it won’t be today, the publisher will have to wait a few days yet – I need to print off the first three chapters with a covering letter, it’ll be done in the next few days. I want to get a book published in New Zealand, silly I know when I can have it done in the UK, but I don’t care, I just feel like doing it.
(5.30pm) I’m sitting in my house, outside there is thunder and lightning and the rain is bucketing down with low fog. I’ve never seen so much rain in such a short period of time. Sometimes I like to walk in the rain, with full wet water gear, but not in this rain, without doubt, it would sting the face. I know the farmers wanted rain, and the Waikato River has been low at times, but after today, I think that gripe has gone down the river with the rising water level.
Tonight I’m making rice, jacket potato with chilli, I made a large batch a few days ago and this is the last of it, but chilli is one of my favourite meals. Watching now, “Come Dine With Us.” The show is quite funny; some of the participants haven’t a clue of how to cook.
Earlier this afternoon I went down the library, I drove down, and took a few books back and took others out. I already have four books lined up ready to read, but the others, even though I’ve borrowed them from the library, on closer inspection I don’t think I’ll be reading them, my fault for not taking more time.

They are by Barry Brailsford – “Song Of The Circle,” but back in the house I’ve read a few pages and it’s not for me. I will try again, but I don’t think I’ll change my mind.
Doesn't time go quickly! It’s a year since President Obama has taken office, it seems only yesterday we were all watching his campaign, and from what I can gather he seems to be doing a good job, but I can’t see him sorting out the Afghanistan problem, even Sister Teresa would have trouble there. With Iraq not far behind.

I have noticed that the man known as “Chemical Ally” is to be hanged, but again I can’t see that doing any good, revenge is never sweet no matter what anyone thinks – it normally ends with reciprocation, and so it goes on, only forgiveness brings results. And of course, after today, a Republican has taken the seat that Kennedy occupied so the Republicans now have 41 seats in the Senate and are able to block legislation, especially the health reforms he is trying to get through and into legislation. It seems a lot of Americans do not want free health care for everyone, they are a country against the cost.
They know that taxation will have to go up to pay for it and are not prepared, as it is now around 60% of Americans pay very little tax and are starting to resent increased taxation – hence the Republican being elected today. But I think there is more to it, there is anger in America over jobs and a downward standard of living, and they are looking around for people to blame. My opinion, he needs more time to make things happen, and increased taxation for free health care for every American is a price, I think, well worth paying.
I see there is still hell in Haiti, they has been another earthquake today - aftershock I think, but numbers are not yet available, but it looks to be significant. I really appreciate just how lucky I am, I haven’t a lot, but it’s more, a lot more than most, and the future is looking even better. But I say live in the moment, plan for the future, and enjoy life. The past is gone and the only benefit is in memory, so don’t live in the past, look, always look to the future, but enjoy the moment you are in, it is where you are so make it right.
(6.40pm) The weather is closing in even tighter, the mist is down, the rain is torrential, there is a thunder storm just over head, and it will be with us for awhile yet. I’ve closed the curtains and gone to ground, and here I’ll stay until I see the sun again, but it’s not in the least cold. If we had this weather in the UK it would be cold with it, so there is benefit despite the gloomy day. In a strange way, I’m enjoying it.

Log Seventeenth, New Zealand, from the 18th to the 20th of January 2010

2010-02-08T15:40:00.000-08:00

(Monday 18th January)
Up from bed a 9am intending to go down the gym but I wanted to finish the Chadwick novel I mention yesterday and read instead, finished the novel at just gone twelve midday, the novel is everything I said it was, and more. It makes me want to know more about W. Marshal and his wife Isabelle, and I will, next time I'm down the library, might be later today, (12.30pm now) I will get look to see what is down there about this great historical family. To date, I’ve read three of her novels, I have one more here to read and will start it later today. I did say after I’ve read four of her novels I would seek a change, but I may not now, and read all her works at one sitting.
I should also be doing some writing myself, but I haven’t yet started after Christmas, but I feel there is no rush, besides, it will be getting a car this week, Wednesday it looks like, and then I’ll be starting to travel around the county. I have an inclination to be near the sea. I know there is a large lake here, but it is not the sea, there is no salt air, no big waves, large long sandy beaches, so my travelling will start shortly. But not quite yet, I’ve just started the other Chadwick novel “The Love Knot,” this one is a shorter read than the other one, besides, it’s cloudy out, I think the sun has taken a rest today, but it’s still quite warm.
Listening to the news last night about Haiti it made me sad; it’s now believed there are over 200,000 people dead with that many again injured with millions displaced and homeless. The earthquake struck the capital Port-au-Prince the most heavily populated part of the island. Haiti is a poor country, corrupt with it, which doesn’t help the situation.
Graham Greene write a novel about Haiti; I remember reading it quite a few years ago, I can’t remember its title, but I do remember it was about a priest and the capital Port-au-Prince was mentioned. Aid I believe is slow getting into the country, bodies fill the streets, destruction abounds, law and order has broken down – starvation seems to be a fact of life. It is so bad that it is hard to picture, even though we see the devastation on the TV, so I hope when aid does finally arrive in quantities, it goes to the right people.
Call me cynical if you like, but somehow I hesitation it will be so, but I hope I’m wrong and my cynicism is unfounded, but one-way or another I doubt it. But there again, even that is not sufficient verification for not sending aid, if a small part gets through and the few increase their Swiss Bank Accounts, that is a price that must be paid, but it does leave a bitter taste in the mouth.
I have read all day since I woke this morning, indeed, I haven’t even changed out of my sleeping shorts, (7pm) not worth it now, listening to the news on TV, Prince Andrew is in Auckland, from the look of things getting a good welcome. Half way through my fourth novel by E. Chadwick, I’ll finish it tomorrow, but I’ll be down the library tomorrow to see if they have any other books by that author and on Earl W. Marshal – the author recons Marshal was the Winston Churchill of the 12th Century.
Listening now on D Toxic tablets and their value, (television documentary) and the article recommends most if not all remedies are a load of nonsense and can do more harm than good to the body. I’m inclined to agree, sensible eating, reasonable exercise, no smoking or too much alcohol, don’t become over weight, with no drugs, and there is no problem, sorted, simple really. It doesn’t take a lot to stay healthy – it’ll all about life style, so stop worrying and get eating correctly and exercising.
(Tuesday 19th January)

I woke at 8pm and read for a while, later I walked to town and spent a pleasant hour in the library where I took a few books back and a few more out to keep me going. I finished reading the fourth novel by E Chadwick, or yes, I have her novel “The Greatest Knight.” But now I’m reading a novel by Agatha Christie “Death Comes As The End” it’s based in ancient Egypt 2000 BC, I didn’t know she wrote about Egypt in this vein, so from what I’ve read so far it an ancient detective story.
Again, there is chaos in Afghanistan, Kabul, the capital, there it should be safe now, has seen the Taliban making a fool of the government yet again, the city rocked with bombs. State building destroyed, many people killed, how can the government, corrupted elected government, hope to govern the country?

The truth is, there is not a hope in hell of making it work despite the extra troops deployed there to help hold the peace process. The country is run by many different factions, drugs are grown at an all time high, murder and every day is a natural phenomenon. We should just pull out and let them get on with it. Why oh why can’t our and other government see this, we are not going to win, the Taliban are fanatical individuals, and civilization cannot hope to win again these types of people, so I say again, let them got on with it and fight around each other: there is no other way.
For the evening, I read and watched TV, and in bed by 12am.
(Wednesday 20th January)

Woke at 8.20 and I had a quick breakfast and out with my son at 8.45am and we went into Hamilton, the journey takes around two hours. It is some town, and we had meal in one of the shopping centre and then made a phone call to look at a car, the car looked rather good but after haggling we failed to agree on the purchase and I we left, the second car we looked at – both private sales – we agree on price, and that was it. I had my car and drove it back to Taupo, it only a small engine, 1000cc, but it’ll do me, I’m now mobile and I intend to make the most of it. I’ve just about exhausted the area around Taupo and very nice it was too, so now it’s further afield for me.
Already I’ve planned where I want to go and will start tomorrow, Rotorua is my first stop, and then alone the Hawkes Bay Coast, quite a number of the beaches are pristine and are virtually deserted. I’m really looking forward to it.
(6,10pm) Listening the evening news, Haiti is still in a mess, aid is arriving, but from what I can see, so is looting, and the country is in a desperate state. Already, to death toll is over 200,000 and it is still rising. The sights make me want to cry, the misery is unbelievable, whole families wiped out, when Nature clenches its fist the world feels the blow, and there is not a thing we can do about it.
(10.45pm) I've just listened to the weather forecast, and would you believe: it will be a day of rain tomorrow, all day from what I’ve just heard, “a burst of heavy rain,” the words used, and for the next two days. So it may not be Rotorua tomorrow after all: if it is raining heavy, I’ll go to the swimming baths and to the hot pools after my morning gym session.
Over the last few days I haven’t walked as far as I normally walk, but not to worry, I have spent a lot of time reading, so I’ll take a rest over the next few days and get more exercise and read a little less. But I’ll be lying if I said I’m looking forward to reading the novel “The Greatest Knight,” and for me to finish reading the A. Christie novel about ancient Egypt.
I have so much to do out here, and I need to make the most of the time. But I haven’t rules out coming back again for next winter and spending another few months out here, but I still have another two months out here, but I don’t want to spend next Christmas out here, so it may be next year, January, if I do decide to come back.

Log Sixteen, New Zealand, from 14th to 17th of January 2010

2010-02-08T15:22:00.000-08:00

(Thursday 14the January)
I slept well last night, the weather today is a lot warmer, and I feel fine: funny, when the weather changes it has an effect on me. I was up from bed this morning at 8am and went up the gym; I worked out for one and a half hours and, later, I went for a walk along the river.
I went home to have lunch, read a little, reading now, “The Scarlet Lion” another novel by Elizabeth Chadwick.

After lunch I walked again along the Waikato River up the hot springs and went for a swim, the river was low and near the hot spring the water was too warm to sit in, but a little out in the river the water was alright, and I had a good time. I’ve walked over 9 miles today.
I walked home, the weather hot and sunny and admired the wonderful countryside, eventually, I got home and made my dinner, sausage, boiled potatoes, peas with onion gravy, and for the rest of the night I read and watched television, Harry Potter, “The Goblet of Fire.” Shortly I’ll be starting my travels around the North Island – first I need to get a car, next week should see that sorted.
I see there is more snow back in the UK, just heard on the news; over 2,000 schools are closed because of the snow, but still with low freezing temperatures. Glad I’m over here I must say, but the newsreader did comment that the temperature in the UK should get better towards the weekend, but still they are to remain cold – off the bed 11am – see you all tomorrow.
(Friday 15th January)

I slept like the proverbial log and woke at 9am, still, I admit, after the exertions of yesterday, little wonder, but feeling good. The sky was cloudless, the sun up and warm. I left immediately for the gym walking the long way round along the Waikato River, which was lower than normal. The birds sang: I saw a rabbit, which ran in front of me and was lost to me in the undergrowth. The wind, not cold, moved the trees, and sounded like a stream humming over stones as I made my way along.
Worked out for just over an hour and walked back home the same way I came, stooping frequently to listen to nature’s sounds and to admire its beauty. For lunch, I had tuner fish with cheese and onion in two rolls, and then I read awhile and relaxed listening to music. I need to go shopping sometime today.
I came back from shopping, 4.30pm, it’s a pain carrying it from the shops, this time next week I should have a car, hopefully. I just had a shower, 5.50pm, watching television and waiting for the baked potato, which is in the oven, I’m having it with chilli.

I should have mentioned it earlier, when in the gym I weighted after training wearing shorts and T-shirt. I weigh 77.7 kilos: in stones that is, 12 stone 2 pounds, so I’m in pretty good shape, but I want to get down to 11 stone 10 pounds. I only have a few more pounds to go, 6 pounds to be exact, so I should be there in the next 3 to 4 weeks, concentrating on my stomach and chest. I say that, providing there is no great temperature change, or there may be a problem, if you know what I mean!
I haven’t drunk a lot of wine, any alcohol in fact for quite a while, so I’ve bought two bottle of wine, Australia. Jacob’s Creep- a white Riesling and a red Shiraz, they were on offer, $6.95 each. I hope they are alright. I intend to have a few glasses tonight. (6,15pm) From the looks of things outside, it may well rain later, the clouds are back and the cloud blanket is getting thicker, and yet this morning, there was not a cloud to be seen in the sky. I’m half way through the E. Chadwick novel, this is the third novel, which I’ve read by this author, and after, I will read her other novel, which I borrowed: “The Love Knot.” After I’ve read four of her novels I’ll take a rest and change focus. I want to read a few New Zealand authors.
The red Shiraz wine for the price is excellent, I had three small glasses, around a third of a bottle; I want to go to the gym tomorrow, so too much wine tonight will drain me tomorrow, 11.15pm, off to bed now.
(Saturday 16th January)

Up at 9am, slept like a log and straight down the gym for a work out, later: a walk, and later still back at the house I read. In the afternoon I went into town and did the shopping, buying a daily paper at the same time. Back at the house the rest of the day reading, “The Scarlet Lion” my E Chadwick, it's a rather hefty novel but well worth the read, in is her second book on William Marshal a great 12th century Magnet and Knight and his wife Isabella, Countess of Pembroke, also Queen of Leinster in Ireland. I will definitely read the first novel about William Marshal “The Greatest Knight.”
The novels are just that, novels, but they are rooted in fact, and the William Marshal’s tomb and effigy resides at the Temple Church London, his wife was buried in Tintern Abbey but her tomb has long gone, destroyed by the annals of time. But a large replica of Isabelle’s seal can be seen at Chepstow Caste, she died one year after her husband despite being twenty years his junior. The story can be looked upon on two levels: a great love story or as an adventure novel, equally on both levels it make for compelling reading. Staying in Saturday night, watched a little television, listened to music and in bed my 10.30 feeling good, very good indeed.
(Sunday 17th January)

Up at 8am, slept well, and read for most of the morning. After lunch, I made the evening meal, well, the cottage pie I had already made, so I only need do the topping, potato, sweet potato, radish and carrots, mashed and placed as a topping, with Ratatouille, cauliflower, sweet corn, tomatoes, done a cauliflower cheese, with creamed potato with onions and garlic topped with radish. I only need cook for five so it wasn’t too bad and it turned into a good evening. After they went, I read until I fell asleep, short log today.

LOG FIFTEEN - Roy Tomkinson: New Zealand Log from 10th January to the 13th of January

2010-01-26T19:12:00.000-08:00

(Sunday 10th January)
I woke at 8.45am, I had a real good day yesterday, and I’m feeling really exhilarated, the sun is out in force and I finished reading the paper I purchased yesterday, and I’m now listening to music. "Ultimate Santana." I'm burning it into my computer. The first song “Into The Night,” most impressed with it I am.
I intend to have an easy day today, I’m expecting my grandson down around 1pm so it’s indoors for me today, especially with the meal this evening.
All done, I only need to warm up the lasagne and make the Bushnell Sauce, which will take but a few minutes.
I’ve found an extraordinarily good coffee, since I’ve bought a coffee plunger, I’m trying different ones, but this one is exceptional. It’s by Robert Harris, and it’s called “Hazelnut Dream” and you can actually taste the hazel nut flavour as well the hazel aroma – smell - smell - it’s yummy to drink.
I’ve bought a book, only $1, old stock from the library, written my Terry Waite, “Taken on Trust.” If you remember, he was held captive in the Lebanon for 1,763 days, most of which was in solitary confinement until his release on 19th November 1991.
This is his autobiography of that time which he wrote first in his mind when held in darkness, which reveals his inner strength and what helped to keep his sanity. I will read the book as soon as I finish my present novel. I’ll let you know what I think about his story. But I must say, I do know quite a bit about his ordeal, I followed it at the time it happened, he is a person who I greatly admire, but it’s taken me up until now to read his book, and by accident. But maybe not, who knows?
(1.10pm) Just made the Sauce for the lasagne for tonight, a tip: don't put Greek Yogurt in the topping sauce: it doesn’t work (sic!). Listening now to the theme from the “Third Man” and nice it is too. For lunch, I’m having pâté with a crispy roll with salad.
(2.55pm) I’m listening to music using my ear phones while my grandson watches television, I have quite a collection of CD on my Computer from my collection at home, all legal I would add, no illegal downloads, don’t think it’s right.
I shall have to start writing shortly, I can’t actually say I’ve been prolific in the writing department since I’ve been out here, but really, I’m not that bothered, I’m enjoying the country and making the most of it, so I’ll have plenty of time for writing later. I think I’ve mentioned it before, I’m thinking of serialising my first book, it would make good viewing.
I did a play a few years ago, and I’m thinking of sharing it on my webpage over the next few months. In all there are Five Acts, with around 40 odd scenes, and the story tells quite a profound tale, so watch this space over the next few weeks, well months.
Listening to Cliff Richards, “The Young Ones,” brings back memories, especially of my parents. Funny is old life, as you get older your memories lengthen and you look back along the line of time gone, and...
Well, for me, I see things differently now than I did twenty years ago, I don’t long to go back there, but it does warm me somewhat: reflected memories with a time distance always looks better. Or perhaps it’s just that, you reflect forward into your mind only the memories you wish to hold and keep, and the lock gets more secure as you tread the path of life forward.
Anyway, enough of sentimentality on my part: just now, I'm listening to Tom Jones, and I am remained of Pontypridd, and yet, despite the weather there, snow, ice, subzero temperatures, it gives me a warm feeling of home, a little like a comfort blanket, so the sentimentality must be still with me.
There is a saying, you can take the man out of the Rhondda, but you can never take the Rhondda out of the man. So it is said – true! I suspect it is. There is consanguinity between Rhondda and its sons. I wonder if Tom Jones feels the same, met him a few time in the Otley Arms having a pint with his friends, he has done Pontypridd right proud.
I’m taking a rest from novel reading today, the last few weeks I’ve been a prolific reader and walker around Taupo, busy – busy – busy all the time. So I’m taking a little rest, the trouble is with rest it gives you time to think, to ponder, to wonder, reflect: I think we all need to make time for these things. I call it a `getting to know yourself day.’
Earlier I’ve turned on shuttle for my music and `Auld Lang Syne’ as just come on, so there is no getting away from it today.
I’m just about to make the potato wedges to accompany the lasagne. What I do, after I’ve cut them, is to place them in an oven at 100 to 120 Deg for twenty minutes to first soften them.
Then I spread a few spoonfuls of olive oil, finely chopped with a few chilli flakes, over the wedges, and turn the oven up to 180 Deg for half an hour. But I toss them every five minutes not for them to stick to the pan.
For the last ten minutes, I turn the oven up to 210 Deg to brown and crisp them off. Take it from me, the wedges are brilliant, and to boot, they are low in fat.
(9.20pm) The meal went well, the lasagne, everyone had second helpings, also, I opened a few beers, a bottle of prosecco wine; a New Zealand sparkling wine, very nice indeed. The dessert was a mince pie, made on a large plate with jam tarts and cream, but I feel tired now. They’ve just gone. I think it’ll be an early night for me tonight; overall, it’s been a good day, but I'm feel really tired.
(11th January 2010)

It couldn’t sleep last night, coughed for most of it, and I had a headache. I was alright until I went to bed, and then that was it. I think it might have been because there was an abrupt change in atmospheric pressure in the atmosphere. It rained continually all night and the temperature suddenly dropped substantially, when I say rain, it belted down all night: I don’t think it let up once. And yet, the day was sunny but colder than normal – at lot colder that it’s been for the last few weeks.
It made to make me really tired, and I could hardly move. I stayed in doors and just rested. I did listen to music and I read a little, but not a lot, and ate even less.
(10.10pm) Feeling a lot better now - I was really caught on the hop, I have a really bad allergy to sudden changes in temperature. I should have realised and made allowances, but this time I was caught napping. Not to worry, I just need to be a little more careful in the future, off to bed shortly, shorty log today.
(12th January)

I woke at 9am, I slept better, but still not that good, coughing and restless, I did have breakfast a bowl of fruit and a light lunch, but I didn’t go out, I just couldn’t face the gym this morning so I rested. The afternoon I felt really tired and just lay about reading and dozing, and had an easy evening, I did read a bit but found it difficult to focus, and don't feel like writing a lot.
(13th January)

I feelings a lot better this morning, but still not right, so no gym or walking for me. I may go out this afternoon if I’m feeling up to it! The weather is cloudy and a lot colder today, with a keen North Easterly wind, with dampness in the air from all the rain, but there is a high coming in tomorrow so the forecast states, but we’ll have to see.
(12.40pm) Just had a shower, been in bed most of the morning – on and off – feeling better now after a shave and change of clothes. Will read a little and take stock later today.
(1.50pm) Went out, first time the three days, walked for a while (4miles) and felt better for it. I think I may well go to the gym tomorrow, but still not back to full strength. Read a novel by Shirley McKay, “Hue and Cry.” Just finished the story, it was hard going, it was a lesson in how not to write a novel, the story went on and on, a large part of the story was so slow at times I thought it was moving backwards.
I persevered with it because I want to see how the author put the story together, but I was disappointed. The story was based in the time era 1575, in Scotland, at Saint Andrews College, the plot was disjointed, with some of the characters not believable, with others, just silly, and at times, the plot was actually confusing, but from everything you learn, even from negative experiences.

Log Fourteen From New Zealand, the 6th to the 9th of Janurary.

2010-01-15T15:20:00.000-08:00

(Wednesday 6th January 2010)

Up at 7.20 am and straight up the gym, now the holidays are effectively over, it is back to normal. The gym opens from 6am onward, over the holiday it was 9pm. Home at 9.30, breakfast, a little read: Shakespeare’s “The Tragedy of Julius Caesar.”
I started reading it in bed last night. Later, out into town and a walk around the harbour. I called into the library on the way back, a little shopping, and then home, and read for a while. I’m having chilli and potato wedges later for dinner.
I’m reading a novel by Elizabeth Chadwick, “Shadows and Stongholds.” A medieval novel based in the period, 1148 AD, the main character is called Brunin, the first novel I have read by this author. I borrowed it from the library earlier today, and even thought I’m early into the reading of the story, the writing, plot and characterization, I like, and the story is not that heavy on the mind.
Watching the news, I see that the UK is having a BAD TIME with the weather, the worse in 30 years apparently, snow, snow, and more snow; glad I’m out here in the warmth using factor 30-sun cream. I’m getting ready to travel around the rest of the island over the next week or so and looking to where I intend to go, the Coremandel is high on my list, so I Gisborne and Napier. From the weather news it looks as if it’ll rain tomorrow, but the temperature will be 23 Deg, still warm, but cloudy, but the forecast often turns out to be wrong, well, I'll have to see, off to bed 11pm.
(7th January, Thursday)
I didn’t wake until 9am this morning, I had intended to go down the gym but read instead, the Chadwick novel I’d mentioned earlier, it makes very good reading. The weather is cloudy today, but there are no rain showers as forecasted last night, which is a good thing but it’s not looking that promising for the afternoon, not matter the weather is a darn site better than in the UK with all the snow and cold weather.
Despite what I said earlier today, I didn’t go over the door all day, and was late getting to bed 2am in the morning. I read all day, finished the Chadwick novel before I went to bed, I read the whole novel in one day.
(Friday 8th January)

Woke at 9am, late for me, but I was late in bed last night – I do sleep well out here. I went straight to the gym and had a good, I mean good, work out, one and a half hours, weights and cardiac, and then I went down the library to take a few books back, where I borrowed another novel my Elizabeth Chadwick, “Running Vixen.” It’s on the same vein as her last novel based around the period 1126: perhaps it’s just what I feel, but I find women writers have more ideas about romance writing than men writers. There is more empathy in the writing and a greater understanding about love and relationships, and Chadwick has this ability to bring out emotion in her characters, which I find rather refreshing.
(1.30pm) Listen now to an opera (the full works) by Richard Strauss, “The Egyptian Helen 1928 version,” quite highbrow, “The women is Helen of Troy and the man her husband who is trying to kill her, but I must admit, I’m rather enjoying it; the singers are Deborah Voigt, and Leon Botstein. The first I’ve heard of them, both have strong voices – I’m quite surprised about myself liking them.
The weather was cloudy this morning, and it rained when I was in the gym, but later it because really close, and now, this afternoon, the sun is out and it's exceptionally warm, the weather mood can change on a penny. I need to do some shopping later, I could have done some earlier today, but frankly, I just wasn't in the mood. I may go out later, but I'm not that keen.
(3.25pm) Listening to Ave Maria – Auld Lang Syne - Greensleeves – The Last Rose of Summer, and many more, played by Andre Rieu. The CD is in two disks and entitled, “The 100 most Beautiful Melodies,” which I borrowed from Taupo Library, take it from me, the music is wonderfully, enchantingly, relaxingly beautiful.
(6.20pm) Watching the news, the weather in the UK is terrible, and from what I have heard, it is set to last for another two weeks. The ice is over most of Europe and the disruption is causing havoc throughout the UK and its neighbours. The sun is not out with us here this morning.

The clouds are back this afternoon, by lunch the sun was out and you need sun lotion.
I’m feeling a little tried now, with the gym and all the walking today around town and the shopping, carry the groceries, walking back, it’s taken it out of me so I’ll have a little relax and see how I feel after, but now, I’m not going anywhere tonight.
(11pm) I didn’t go out after, I watched television and read the daily paper which I bought earlier today and started the novel “The Running Vixen." my E. Chadwick. Listening now to Johann Strauss Orchestra with Andre Rieu playing the violin, “Aimeu,” from Romeo and Juliet, and then it’s off to bed for me.
(Saturday 9th January)
I woke at 9.20 today and went straight down the gym, the sun is out, the sky is blue, the birds are singing, what a good start to the day. I had another good workout, 1 hour 40 minutes, not sure how many calories I burnt, but concentrating on weights and press-ups with some cardiac, when I have a good work out back home I burn anything from a 1000 to 2000 calories, sometimes more.
From the gym, I went into town, did a little bit of shopping, bought a paper, I went home and had lunch, and cooked a lasagne for tomorrow evening, only having three for a meal tomorrow. Later, after reading the paper, I went up to the hot water springs. The hot water drains into the Waikato River and I went for a swim where the hot water mixes with the main river, it was exhilarating, but you needed to be careful. The river flows fast in the centre current, but the water is so clear you can see your face in the stones at the bottom.
From there I went to my son’s house for a late roast and walked home at 9.30pm. I am having the boy tomorrow afternoon, looking forward to it, I will not be late in bed tonight, I’ve walked and exercised quite a lot tonight today, walking alone I’ve done over 9 miles.

Log Thirteen from New Zealand from the 3rd of January to the 5th of January 2010

2010-01-04T13:38:00.000-08:00

(Sunday 3rd January 2010)
Up early and read for the morning, my son dropped down my grandson and went off to work. Later, I went shopping with him and bought when I need for the meal tonight, I have eleven coming including my grandson, four men and six women. I won’t be able to get them all around the table so I’m doing a sort of `collect yourself type of meal.'
I already had chicken curry in the freezer from earlier, so I defrosted and fortified with boiled potatoes, and placed in the oven to heat. Also, I cut bacon is slices and fried them with a grained mustard and some tomato puree, with small pieces of cauliflower, plus a few cut tomatoes lost of all.
I bought a joint of beef, called corned silverside, washed it few time in cold clean water to get the salt out and cut it in thin strips, and fried it on a high heat in a frying pan with ginger, plum juice with garlic and a few herbs. When the liquid was reduced, added a few spoonfuls of raw brow sugar, to turn the beef strips sticky,
Separately, I fried the vegetables: carrots - cut small - cauliflower, and other stir-fry vegetables in season. Cut up two peppers and fried them in crème fraîche and added them all together and finally added the sauces, and mixed it together in a lager pot and heated it to serve (made my own sauce) with the other food and garlic bread.
The lot went, second and third helpings.

For dessert, a cake and custard, a really good night and they left about 10am. I cleaned up and spent a little time reading before I retired to bed (11.10am) feeling really good, it went so well – I so do enjoying cooking and experimenting with food trying different combinations.
(Monday 5th January 2010)

Up at 9.40am had a light breakfast and read until my son called down with my grandson around 11.30, he’s sleeping now, his afternoon nap, (1.23pm) I’ll be waking him in about 20 minutes and then we’ll play for a few hours, I ‘m collecting his mother from work a 5 o clock.
(6.07) No need for me to fetch anyone as it turned out from work, so played with my grandson and read. Just finished a novel by Piers Paul Read: “A Season in the West,” which I rather enjoyed. I’ll be having an easy night, watching television and reading with a glass or two of wine (I was a bit premature when I said I'll give it up) and hopefully, gym tomorrow morning, and to the library.

Need to plan over the next few days where I’m to travel to around New Zealand, and what I want to see, buy first I need to get a car.
(10.20pm) Watching TV `half-and-half,’ surfing the three channels, and reading a novel by Jeffrey Gruikshank: “Murder at the B-School,” a murder mystery, nothing much else to report today so off to bed shortly.

LOG TWELVE FROM NEW ZEALAND, 31st of December to 2nd of JANUARY 2010

2010-01-04T13:10:00.000-08:00

(Thursday 31st December)

The last day of the old year, I got up at 6.20am and went to the gym but it was closed, not open until 9am, silly really, I should have realised. Feeling exceptionally good this morning, the last three days rest has done me the world of good, and my batteries feel quite charged and ready to go.

(8.25am) I’ve been reading this morning, Shakespeare, you got it, Romeo and Juliet. I think I’ll read a few of his Tragedies over the next few days.
I’ll be leaving shortly to go down the library, it opens at nine, for me to post my log, later, I’ll call back and spend an hour in the gym. Since last Saturday, the barbecue night, I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol, and I can’t see me tonight either, I could easily give up wine without any problem whatsoever.
(2pm) Back from library and called in the gym on the way back and did some weight training. Spent the rest of the time reading and then at 4pm walked up to my son’s house for a barbecue and for my grandson’s birthday. He’s three years old today.
Load of people turned up, my son had to work until 7pm and the lot of them were going into town later, there’s a concert in the park. I didn’t drink alcohol, and offered to babysit to allow the both of them to go out for the night and I drive down to my house with my grandson at 8pm and after a little while he was in bed asleep.
I read for most of the night and in bed by 11.50am. I can hear fireworks being set off and music coming from a few houses in the street – they are having a good night, and so am I. I’m off to sleep stone cold sober – and it feels good, exceptionally good, I'm toying with giving up drinking alcohol for good. Happy New year everyone – we are twelve hours in front out here.
(Friday, 1st of January 2010 – New Years Day)

New Year has finally arrived, I was in bed, almost asleep, but the sounds of fireworks going off at midnight, with music from the nearby Park filling the air; they had a concert there last night. The music sounded good, but I must say, I slept well in spite of the noise, woke at 7.10am this morning.
My grandson came into the bedroom to say he wanted breakfast, and that was it. Sleep over for me for the day.
Listening now to music - piano, “Morning,” from Peer Gynt, by Greig. The sun is out, but there is a slight morning chill in the air, but there are no clouds around, so it should be warm later this morning.
(10.35am) Seems funny, back home they are just getting ready to celebrate New Year, and I’m here with my grandson getting ready to go swimming later today, the last year already spent. New Year is a time for reflection of what has gone and what the future holds, and I feel the relentless pull of time forcing itself forward, myself with it, into the unknown.
The last year for me is over, and it has slipped past among merriment and fireworks into history as I dozed into sleep last night, as so it will for everyone shortly as Mother Earth completes its daily spin and its yearly cycle around the sun.
What has happened has happened, the words are written, the ink on the paper dry – indomitably formed, the future is yet to unfold. I, like everyone else, wonder what is in store for me! For this world, for climate change, terrorism, and the myriad of other things that will happen this year, and are as yet, still masked behind the cloak of future time of what is to come. I am mindful of the song,

“Hey Que Sera Sera: what will be will be the future is not ours to see.”

And I am glad of that, to know would mean that whatever you do will make not the slightest bit of difference, so why try? But that is not the case, we control our own destiny, I believe that with a passion, but there again, sometimes, I think some things are preordained irrespective of our actions.

We the players in the stage of life, like a passing shooting star that burns bright for but a second and is gone, burned, as if we had never existed. Some will fall to earth and make their mark on the world, but most will not, and will soon be forgotten.
Sad you might think. But I don’t, we bestow our space upon someone else, a gift, for them to fill the space that we have left, so I come back to where I started: we all can make our mark in the world by not making a mark.
`Now you are being silly,’ you say.
`Not at all,’ I reply with an assured confidence.

To make not a mark is good, because you do make a mark, very much so, `a clean mark.’ You leave the world the same as you entered it, leaving nothing behind for others to clean the mark away.

Perhaps you think I play with words and paradoxes, but just think about it for a moment!
You stop to rest when out walking, take a seat on a stone, look around, admire the beauty, build a fire, boil a kettle, have lunch, and leave your litter behind to tell everyone you’ve been there, you have made your mark by telling the world you have been there.
The other scenario, you take you litter with you, leaving the place pristine as if you’d never stopped there, leaving not a mark, no sign, no one will ever know, only you, that you’ve ever been there. But your mark is there as sure as the other person, more so in fact, you have left the same mark `as before you arrived there.’
You have left the place as you found it; you have retained the original mark that was there before you for others to enjoy, hopefully, the one after leaving the same mark that you have left - no mark. It’s an interesting thought, wouldn’t you agree, if nothing more. Anyway, Happy New Year to all, as I write it’s almost 12pm midnight in the UK, so I’m off out to lunch.
(Late afternoon) What a lunch in Acacia Bay, later we went down the lake for a swim. The weather was hot today; the beach was full, with everyone enjoying the holiday. Anyone who is not a good swimmer needed to be careful at this spot, almost straight off the beach the bottom drops away rather quickly, the whole lake is a volcano, good snorkelling, unfortunately there was not a lot to see, but I did see my first few fish, small fry, at the bottom, but well worth the effort.
Later, I did a bit of shopping in Woolworths for food and then home. I was intending to go out, but instead I read a little and watched a film, “The Kingdom of Heaven,” about the crusades and it was then too late, but there is always tomorrow.
(Saturday 2nd of January 2010)

Up form bed at 9am, late for me, weather stunning out today, read for most of the morning, reading Shakespeare, “The Tragedy Of Coriolanus,” still studying John Whitbourn’s novel. I walked into town an 11.30am, did a little shopping, walked around the lake, back home for lunch. Later, my son and grandson called down, my daughter in law is working today, and we went out, to the lake, on his new bike, which his other grandparents bought him for his birthday – done a video of him riding it with my son following on a skateboard.
I hope they like it, but I think they will despite the shaking as I ran alongside them – anyway, it was fun to do.

(6.50pm) I’m watching the news now, and I may go out tonight after I’ve had something to eat. It looks as if we’ve to have rain tomorrow, but fine on Wednesday.
(11.48) Just got back from town after a few beers, a good night, listened to a good band in “The Shed” and I like Tui beer, but it’s funny, because it’s a Bank Holiday, almost everyone places a surcharge on meals and drinks. Tonight in The Shed, it was 10% but in the other Irish bar, it was 15%, which is about the average, anyway, I’m off to bed.

Next Blog Shortly.

Roy Tomkinson: LOG ELEVEN from New Zealand from the 27th to the 30th of December 2009

2009-12-30T13:53:00.000-08:00

(Sunday 27th December)
The barbecue last night was brilliant, they were load of people there and plenty of food, but I drank a little too much wine. They had a set of drums there that linked into the television, and a prompt on the screen for when you are to hit the drums according to the song on screen, so I gave it a go. I thought it was brilliant – most impressed with it. I got home at 11pm, tired, tipsy, but happy.
Woke at 5am and I couldn’t go back to sleep, had a few glasses of water and read for a while, and lazed about for the rest of the morning.

(1pm) Feeling tired now - dehydrated, will lay off the alcohol for a few days. I’m still reading, actually, in and out reading, a few pages at a time, the biography of “Karl Marx. I’m having an easy day, refocusing and taking it slow – I feel like the weather today, cloudy and warm with a haze in my eyes. I won’t be walking far today – worth it though, I had a great night. I need to eat something now, I’m about to make a cheese and onion sandwich with a few cups of tea.
(4.30pm) Feeling better and went out for a walk, my head is clear now, well almost, I’m just back to normal. The outside air has really sorted me out, and the shower afterwards; and to top it off, the weather has brightened up somewhat.
(7.10pm), Nanny McPHee, Emma Thompson, has just started on the television, Channel Three, (I only have three free channels) I think I’ve seen it before, can’t remember where, but I know I really enjoyed it, very much so, therefore, I’ll watch it again, and then I’ll have something to eat. I have a large potato in the oven and I’ll have some beans, which I will enrich with some curry powder, and I’ll tip them over the baked potato, I’m not cooking for anyone today, thank goodness, after last night.
A number of pilot whales, over sixty in total, were stranded today on a beach in New Zealand, unfortunately, twenty have died while on the beach, but it looks as if the rest has been successfully rescued and directed out to sea. The beach was full of people, locals, and holidaymakers, all in the water helping the whales to keep cool while awaiting the return of the incoming tide. I’m off to bed, (11.45).
(Monday 27th December)
Woke up at 8.20am feeling really rough, I had a headache and my stomach was unset. At first, I thought it was a residual hangover from the barbecue Saturday night, but I was so tired and sick that couldn’t be the reason.
Somehow, I must have caught a bug, but it may be a change is the weather that’s to blame, it rained last night and it is still raining now (3.10pm) and I feel no better. I have an allergy to temperature change in the atmosphere, and perhaps I am affected by that.
I’ve been in bed all day, and feel as weak as a newborn kitten, and can’t eat anything, if I do it comes straight back up. Perhaps it’s my body just shutting down for awhile to make me stop, but I hope I’ll feel better tomorrow, goodness knows, it’s been a bad illness day for me today. I’m not complaining: what life throws at you is but part of living life in the fast lane, but that doesn’t mean to say you shouldn’t fight back, but tomorrow is another day, so it’s always pays to be positive.
I have my grandchild here at the moment and thank goodness, there is someone here to look after him, but he is spending a large proportion of his time jumping on me in bed and asking when I’m getting up. It’s his way of looking after me. Hope I feel better tomorrow, in bed by 10.30, well actually, I’d been in bed on and off for most of the day.
(Tuesday 29th December)
Wake at 9.20am feeling a lot better, the tiredness I had felt yesterday no longer clung as if superglue. I think that perhaps it was my body telling me to take a rest, now I feel as if I’ve been rejuvenated, but I intend to take it easy this morning, no gym today, I think.
Last night it rained heavily for most of the night and this morning - fine now, (11.08) but it’s still very warm 24 Deg and cloudy. My son brought my grandson down at 10.20, he needs to go and look for a car, his other car has now packed in, so he’s not a happy bunny – two cars gone to the happy hunting ground in a matter of a few weeks.

That’s what he does, he buys an old car, if the price is right, and runs it into the ground, and then he purchases another one, but he wasn’t expecting the both cars irrevocably to break down so quickly.
I’ll read and play with my grandson until my son returns, hopefully, with another car, and this time he’ll look after it a little better than the other two cars, which are now only good for scrap, but somehow I doubt it.
I’m reading another novel in between the others I studying: studying a novel or a piece of writing I find is different from just reading a novel for entertainment, but often, the line is blurred on occasions, to such an extent it is difficult the make the demarcation line that distinct – but it’s not that important to me
If I find a piece of writing interesting, I almost unconsciously end up studying it. The novel is “The Darling,” by Russell Banks ISBN: 3 3374 00147927 8, should anyone be interested, this is the first book I’ve read by this author, in bed by 11.10pm.
(Wednesday 30th December)
Up at 7am this morning, feeling a lot better, but I do have a dry throat, but with the tiredness has gone. My grandson turned up at 7.30am, I’m having him for the day. The sky is blue today so the weather will be sunny and warm
I haven’t been food shopping for over a week and I don’t have a lot of food left to eat. I have a few frozen meals in the fridge, but out of milk and teabags, but I do have some bread etc, need to do a food shop shortly, the plus is, I’ve spent very little over the last ten days. I’ll do my expenditure up to date today, but know I’m in budget. I did over spend a little to set up the house etc, but since then I’ve spent very little. Indeed, I’ve even included in the budget the amount I have spent on bonds, $500+$150+50 which I’ll get back. Best to be caution over expenditure, I’m really good at budgeting, but from now on, I’m not expecting to spend a lot over the next few weeks other than on food. Until I start to travel round the county.
Just completed my daily budget up to week six and I’m over budget by $1005, (Ouch!) but that included the setting up costs of the house and the deposits ($700) which I’ll get back and the end of the period.

So the true `over-budget expenditure variance’ is: $305, which I must make back over the next few weeks, but looks worse that what it is due to the house setting up costs and with Christmas expenditure included as well.
So the next few weeks will see me getting back into budget – when I plan something I always like to see it work out, but of course, if other variables are included there may have to be alternations, but I don't like my plans going wrong. I’ll just have to seeThe $305 figure divided by the 6 weeks I’ve been here up to 26th of December represents an overspend of: $50 per week, about £23 per week – which there should be no problem making back over the next few weeks, after that is, I get the bonds returned for the various guarantees.
After my grandson went home around 6pm I read for most of the night, didn’t go out all day, in fact, for the last three days, in bed by 12..05am, later than I normally go to bed. But at least I'm now back to normal.

I know there is still a day to New Year, but still: A good New Year to you All, and may your wishes come true. Ch-aw for now. See you in the New Year.

Roy Tomkinson: Log Ten From New Zealand from the 24th to the 26th of December 2009

2009-12-30T13:09:00.000-08:00

(Thursday 24th December)

Up at 6.40 with my grandson and out after breakfast at 7.50am to take my daughter in law to work and to drop off my grandson at school. It’s breaking up at 5pm today for Christmas, and his potato plant, which he planted earlier in the year; he’ll be allowed to take the plant home this afternoon. So there should be new potatoes for Christmas dinner. Before I left this morning, I phoned home and spoke to my eldest grandson and to my son, it was good to hear their voices.
(9am) Just got back from the gym, did mostly weights this morning, 45 minutes is enough, I over did it yesterday trained for over an hour and a half – too long and I should have drunk more water – I didn’t make that mistake today. But sometimes even though you know something, now and again, it still slips your mind, does with me anyway.
Seems strange, out here in the Sun (it’ll be really hot today) and it’ll be Christmas Day tomorrow: WOW! and so far away from home, I can hardly believe it – I’ll glad in one way, and yet, there is a foreboding in me when I look at it from another angle, strange, very strange indeed are my mixed feelings. I can’t explain them because I can’t explain them to myself, let alone to anyone else. I may go down the lake later for a snorkel, but first, I’ll have a coffee with a piece of toast with Tuna fish on to the top, and I’ll read for a little while.
I’ve given up writing over the Christmas period, and will start in January. I do intent to go travelling sometime around the Island for a few weeks, and I’ll probably camp out The weather is ideal for it – besides, there is something magical about being near to nature, but there again, we’ll see, I may well change my mind, and end up in a four star hotel – male prerogative and all that.
Coming back home, just as I was pulling in to my drive, the phone went my friend “A” from the UK phoned to see how I was getting on with New Zealand. I explaining the day is warm and sunny if somewhat strange. He said his car was holed up for a few days in his drive because the weather has been bad. How different it is here!
For lunch, a tuna salad and I bought some honey yogurt, and I had a large helping and settled down to read for the rest of the afternoon, daily paper first, and then my book which I finished almost immediately, “Popes and Phantoms”
(6pm) I think I’ve mentioned it before, but wasn’t quite sure of it then, but I still hold my view of the characters being away from the creator, but the writing is superb: I am rereading the book, and making it a study. It is worth more than a casual read. Even more important than going down the lake for a swim, which I did promise myself this morning.
John Whitbourn has a way of constructing words, which you don’t see that often, and well worth further investigation. I’ll get hold of his other writings and delve deep into his multiplicity of meanings – his writings want me to go and read Shakespeare; not of course, that he writes likes the Bard: it’s just a feeling I have inside of me, I shall be with this novel for a while.
Listing to the news now, sun blazing down outside. It’s Christmas Eve, Wow! Seems strange, all around me are trees, green, full of early summer bloom, green leaves shimmering in the light wind.

I’m sitting my shorts and my vest at me computer, may go out tonight into town, seems strange being away from almost everyone I know on Christmas – mixed emotions really, but I do have a few members of family out here, but it would be nice if everyone was altogether.
I know they’ll all be down my house back in Wales for Christmas dinner, they will all be there Christmas Eve and wake in my house Christmas Morning,. I’ll definitely phone them, we are twelve hours in front of them.
Watched a little television and went (9pm) out, but I came back after one drink, felt a little sick, I think I’ve eaten something that doesn’t agree with me. I was back in the house before ten thirty. It’s funny, most places were empty; they don’t seem to celebrate Christmas the same way out here.
Perhaps it is because most people work on Christmas Day, that’s what I was told. Taupo is a holiday place and most of the population in one way or another work in tourism or are in some way connected with the trade. And they are far more prone to stay at home and invite friends around for a meal, normally outside on the patio. Anyway, the time now as I write this in my log is 7 minutes to twelve, and I’ll off to bed – a good Christmas to all.
(Christmas Day 25th December, Friday)

Slept good, zonked in fact, I woke at 7.45am, no sooner up from bed, and the phone rings. My son asking if he can bring my grandson down for a few hours because he as a few things to do, his wife is working this morning until around 5pm. Then the presents will be opened, Christmas Dinner will be around 6pm this evening. It seems strange having Christmas Dinner this late in the day, can’t ever recall me having it this late before, but were need must... just one of those things.
Yesterday I bought some honey and some pro-biotic yogurt with bush honey yogurt and I had some this morning over muesli – the taste is brilliant. Also, I’ve made a large boiled cake using tea and some red wine, filled with fruit, and the taste is fantastic, I must be careful not to eat too much – but what the hell it’s Christmas, I think I’ll have a piece now.
(8.35am) The weather today is hot with not a cloud in the sky. I am writing this log drinking a cut of tea wearing a small sweatshirt with a pair of shorts feeling really fit. I should be: what - with all the walking and gym, I feel, I am, know so, in good shape.
Over the last few weeks, my body has really tightened up, even if my feet sting a little from all the walking and training. I train in bare feet in the gym, I didn’t bring my training shoes with me, so my feet are hardening to the treatment I inflict upon them, but they are not too happy about it, and need first to experience a few blisters before they succumb to the hardness, but my feet's’ complaints goes unnoticed by myself.
(9.10am) My grandson is watching the television, “Sponge Ball with Patrick.” I can never work out how they manage to sunbath under the sea, and why they need an umbrella when it rains, but perhaps I’m being too politically correct and should cut a little leeway with the programme. Still, it’s hard to swallow, but the kids (to be honest I also enjoy watching it) love the programme, so I go with the flow – no choice really: Shucks! The twists and turns that life throws at us, the best way is to smile and accept and get on with it.
12.30pm) My son came down and asked if I’d like to go down to the lake for a swim and off we went. I was in the water for over an hour, fins wetsuit, snorkel the lot, at first the water was a bit cold but after the initial immersion if was great, but I need to be careful of the speedboats and the jet skies, a real fun time.

Then back to his house for Christmas Lunch, well dinner really, after he fetched his wife from work. When she arrived, we opened our Christmas Presents and had Christmas Dinner outside in the sun on the patio with a few glassed of wine.
Later, we went visiting a friend of his; I had met him before down the gym but not his wife who was from Neath South Wales, a fluent Welsh Speaker, working as an English teacher in the local school. More food, with Punch, really good, had a few glasses, and then he opened a bottle of vintage port: Oh, I do like a good port and then they dropped me off around 8.30, I watched a little television and phoned home and spoke to my daughter, son, and grandchildren. They were all at my house, I think I’ve said before they’d be there on Christmas Day preparing the meal, and we had a good chat, in bed by 11.45pm feeling really tired.
(Saturday 26th of December Boxing Day)

I don’t think I moved all night, woke at 7.45 feeling a little stiff, a few light exercises to loosen me up and then I had breakfast, the usual, honey with muesli, with of course two cups of tea. I intend to take an easy day today and read, but there again, it could change later, I’ll just have to see how I feel.
I’ve been keeping abreast of the climate summit of World Leader and it was as I expected, not a lot of agreement. There were factions there that didn’t want an agreement on carbon emissions, but it won’t go away. We need to do something and fast if we are to reverse the trend.
We are not far off the precipice. Perhaps already we’ve passed it, but politicians are proving a hard nut to crack, especially when faced against large business interests, and other interests pressing down on them.

But they are living in a fool’s paradise, and I am amazed that they have on this occasion advanced the frontiers of blithering ineptitude to hitherto inconceivable limits with their intransigence when it comes to global warming, and they need to face up to its reality, as does large businesses, and quickly.
(10.30am) My son turned up with my grandchild and dropped him off, we played, and I made him one of my “special smoothie:” we played with his toy fire engine, we did a puzzle on the alphabet, and he was picked at 12.30pm.
I had lunch, beans on toast and listened to Susan Boyle’s CD, “I Dreamed a Dream,” very good it is to, and then I read, but I couldn’t get the Susan Boyle’s CD out of my mind, for some reason, the title intrigued me, and then it dawn on me, if I changed the “Dreamed” to “Dreamt.” It was in my face.
“I Dreamt a Dream,” the only word in the English language to end in “mt” (I had mentioned earlier in this log) the words come from Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet (Act 1 Scene IV) spoken by Romeo to Mercutio when on their way to the pageant at the Capulet’s house. Funny how things stick in your mind, and something often unrelated springs something, and there you have it staring at you as bold as brass.
I reading now - rereading actually, I’m studying the novel by John Whitbourn, it’s a treasure of sayings. I’ll give you a flavour.
The year is 1492: the main character, SLOVO is praying on his knees. Listen to his prayer.

“Almighty Lord, on the reasonable assumption that you exist and that your wishes for Mankind are actually as related by the various revelations honoured by my time and culture, please forgive me of the things I have done, and will do. Generally speaking I mean well – except when I mean ill: which is probably too often. Please keep my melancholia within acceptable bounds. Overlook my ambivalent attitude to Judaism: conversion is not, you’ll surely agree, a practical course of action at present. Look kindly on my adherence to Pagan Stoicism: I mean no disrespect. Bless my wife, I suppose, wherever she is. I’m not sorry about the people I killed this year...
A confident tap on his shoulder interrupted Admiral Slovo’s prayers. He turned swiftly, his thumb poised over the spring release blade-loaded opal signet ring, to see that a long-haired young man was standing behind him.
`No thank you, whispered the Admiral, remaining on his knees.’
`To what?’ replied the elegant youth, puzzled.
`To whatever you are selling: yourself, your sister, choice sweetmeats, or indulgences. Whatever it may be, I’m not interested.’
`You are being offensive,’ said the youth; more hazarding a guess than making an accusation.
`And you are interrupting my prayers,’ said Slovo. `I will have to go back to the beginning now.’
`So?’ the young man replied. `Each moment spent in proximity to a Christian place of worship costs me dear. Even this brief conversation will have shortened my lifespan by perhaps one hundred of your years. Another five minutes so close to consecrated ground and I will die.’”

And a few paragraphs later when Slovo is talking with the King of the Elves, who tells him someone will shortly make contact with him: Slovo asks:

`The same youth as before, Your Majesty?’

(The King replies) `No: his visit to your... church, imparted his health; therefore he was killed.’

The King spoke these words as if it was nothing – a throwaway line, but quite frightening in its delivery.
The prayer followed by the light conversation, on the face of it, the passage appears quite innocuous, but look at the deeper meaning! There is a message there hidden in the prose – if you are able see it, please, let me know.
The novel is full of ambivalence, studying it on a deeper level; I find gives one a judicious tingling inside the mind to look into the writer’s meaning, even if you are not in accord to what he is saying.
(Dam, [3pm]the electric has gone off – it’s affecting the whole area, wonder what’s wrong, not to worry, it’ll come back when it’s ready, running my computer off the battery now and I have 18 minutes left – it’s just come back on [3.45pm] thank goodness.).
Listening to Clare de Lune, Debussy, playing the piano just now, and off to a barbecues this evening, being picked up around 5.30pm.

Roy Tomkinson: LOG NINE FROM NEW ZEALAND FROM 21st TO THE 23rd OF DECEMBER

2009-12-30T12:29:00.000-08:00

(Monday 21st of December, time 8 am I woke)
The meal last evening went really well, my home made garlic bread, not a piece was left in the dish, they left and I was in bed my 10.30pm last night, but the programme I watched first about obese people made quite an impression on me.

I just can’t understand how parents can be so stupid.
The remedy is simple: if you eat more food that you burn up in calories, period, you gain weight - simple. The trouble is half the parents themselves were as fat as pigs, and the food they stuff down themselves and their kids, well, half don’t deserve to have kids.
It’s all about life style and discipline, and from what I could see they were crap at it. To make wholesome nutritional food is not expensive. For what they pay for two packets of crisps and a packet of biscuits: I, anyone, could make a healthy meal for four people with dessert. They blame anything and everything, except themselves, some examples:
“It’s my child’s genes.”
“We’re a big bones family.”
“My boy cried for more food.”
“I don’t think he eats that much.”
“He/She will not eat that type of food, I’ve tried.”
The lot is a load of nonsense, remedy, cut down on portions and learn to say no, and give them only healthy foods. If they don’t eat it let them starve, believe me, they’ll soon come round, and stop buying crisps and biscuits, and read what’s on the label before you buy food.
In the nursery school my grandson goes to, if crisps or cake, anything, that they consider or classify as not healthy food, the food is sent back to the parent with a note. And they are not allowed to eat it when at nursery – and good on them I say.

Their philosophy: if the parents don’t like it, they tell them they can’t accept the child. It so annoys me to see parents, most I will admit, with good intentions, ruining their children’s lives with bad parenting. And their own lives as well I may add.
My grandson gets little no sweets, a treat for him is a piece of fruit, and he thrives on his diet, I say it’s down, totally, to the parents and not the child. So if anyone is fat who is reading this, just stop eating and take more exercise, and stop-stop-stop, making excuses for being overweight, because frankly, there is no excuse: you are fat because you eat too much – simple as.
(2,14pm) Just got back in the house, been down the gym and then down to the library to post my log and shoot off a few emails, I’m not doing a lot of writing, only just keeping up with my target, but there again, it is Christmas so I’m not that worried, I've made a few weeks allowance for that in any event.
The weather is gorgeous out with just that little wind to make it pleasant, and it's not too hot. I’m having beans on toast for lunch and will get a portion of chicken curry out of the freezer for dinner tonight with rice mixed with nuts and a chopped raw onion.
These are the type of meals a friend of mine, who I haven’t see for a while, would really enjoy – it is so easy to lose contact with people with whom you value.
Also, I miss my other grandchildren, the eldest especially; we have such a close loving relationship, my son and daughter again, I miss, and their families. My daughter has just become engaged, I think this is the one, I really like him, and importantly, he cares for her and she’s happy: that’s all that matters to me for her to be happy, she’s turned into a really balanced young lady, she just needs to learn to cook now.
I’m listening to Abba, “Dancing Queen,” and dancing with myself, (perhaps this sun is stronger that I think, I did go out without a cap this morning and it may have addled my brain: Dam!) and their other songs, these songs will endure, have endured, they speak out to you: always there is a message in their songs.

The one I’m listening to now is, “I believe in Angels, I have a Dream, the other has finished but a moment ago.”
Reading a novel by John Whitbourn, “Popes and Phantoms,” medieval, around the time of the Borges, they behaved like devils, perhaps this dynasty were... I don’t know what they were, but I do know they weren’t in any way Christian.
I find the writing distance, as if the writer is afraid to bring the characters close to him. Don’t get me wrong, the writing is first class, but somewhat I feel that is not enough, they appear unreal to me. A little to precise to make the characters believable – I’m half way through the novel now, hopefully, I’ll finish it today but I can’t see me changing my mind.
(5.50pm) I went out after into town again, just got back, purchased a pair of aqua shoes to wear when in the water, and some Christmas paper to wrap a few presents. Decided to have a baked potato for dinner instead of rice, should be ready around 7pm. I’ll watch the news until then, I may have a glass of wine, feeling a little tired now, I’m getting a lot of exercise out here, a lot more than back home.
The meal I really enjoyed, and then I watched the second episode of, “Lost in Austin.” I watched the first episode yesterday and the other episode was on this evening. I admit, I was sceptical at first, but after watching it, I found it quite amusing.
Miss Price, an invented character, goes into the book of “Pride and Prejudice” and meets Mr Darcy, and the other characters in the book, quite amusing; Bingley turns out to be a drunkard, Wickham turns out to be an OK guy.
With a few other twists and turns. I was particularly amusing when Miss Price says,

“Jane Austin will be spinning in her grave like a cat in a spin dryer.”

When Bingley elopes with one of the Bennett daughters, not as in the book, it was Wickham, but all works out in the end.
Elizabeth going back to our present time in Hammersmith, and she comes back to a right cock up with the characters. In the end, Miss Price goes to be with Darcy, with Elizabeth going back to our current time – a rather strange ending, but well worth watching, a good laugh, bed by 11pm., must read the book again sometime.
(Tuesday 22nd December)

(6.20pm) Up at 8 this morning, a good day, but feeling rather tired, I had intended to down the gym but stayed at home and read. Did go down town to the library around 11am, posted my log and looked at Facebook.
Back for lunch, tuna with salad, and for the rest of the afternoon read and did a little cooking, a few old bananas were getting rather `manky’ so I made a banana cake. If you want the recipe let me know, it’s really easy and cheap to make, but it doesn’t keep well, must be eaten within a few days of making.
Listening to the news now, there is still chaos in Europe and in the UK with Euro Star. The weather is quite frightening; already across Europe, they are talking in terms of nearly a 100 people dead, with parts of America not doing that much better.
The temperature here today is 22 Deg, with a little warmer tomorrow – that’s it for today, may go out later for a beer.
(Wednesday 23nd December)

Up and out a 7am to go to the gym and I trained for a good hour and a half mainly with weights, and I didn’t drink any liquids. As I was coming out my son turned up and asked if I could take him to work and fetch the boy from nursery at 5pm and for him to stay the night, and to take him to nursery tomorrow morning.

I was quite delighted about it. I didn’t go out last night after, watched some television and read a little, in bed by 11pm after a glass of wine.

(9.40am) I’ll have breakfast now, peaches in juice with a cup of coffee.
(10am) It’s funny, sheets and pillowcases out here are called “Manchester:” Why? I have no idea. I’ll try to find out. I’ll go shopping later now that I have my son’s car today, not sure yet if I’ll be fetching my daughter in law from work, I expect she’s let me know later.
Read for most of the morning and then I took a hot shower – silly really. Afterwards, I felt a little light headed, giddy even, my mind felt as if it were moving far away from me, and I had to take a rest and refocus. I have a slight headache, so I drank a few glasses of water.
I worked out hard in the gym this morning and I didn’t drink anything, (silly me) and I think I became a little dehydrated: I need to be careful and make sure I drink plenty of water during and after training, it was a particularly heavy session in the gym, one and a half hours.
I’m still not feeling totally right even now (12.20pm), still feeling a little lightheaded, but I’m coming round slowly. I’ve just had a few more glassed of water, and I’ll have something to eat and I’ll rest for a little while.
Right, I’m back to normal, just eaten a tuna sandwich, soy and linseed bread, with a quarter of an onion and a few crisps, and a piece of boiled fruitcake cooked yesterday. I must say, the cake is `fandabidosie,’ I think that’s how the word is spelt anyway. In fact, I think I’ll have another piece.
After I picked up my grandson and brought him home, I made food: sausages with potato wedges, which I cooked in the oven and sprinkled some Cajun spices over, it turned out exceptionally yummy. Later we went and fed the ducks and he was in bed my 7.20pm. I watched a little television, silly really, “The Clash of the Santas” to a glass of wine and a few pieces of chocolate, read a little and in bed by 10.45pm.

Roy Tomkinson: FROM NEW ZEALAND DAILY STEPS WALKED UP TO THE 18TH OF DECEMBER 2009

2009-12-22T17:39:00.000-08:00

NOVEMBER, NUMBER OF STEPS WALKED PER DAY IN NEW ZEALAND

10,000 steps at my pace, 24 inches, represent a distance of 3.80 miles.
A thousand steps represent 33% of the mile. 3,000 Steps just over one mile.
Number of steps per:
Day to the nearest 100 steps
Satuday, day of arrival: First period is 8 days, includes 2 Saturdays;

Week One
14th 21,000
15th 22,700
16th 15,500
17th 17,500
18th 26,000
19th 37,000
20th 27,500
21st 14,800
Week Two
Sunday 22nd
22st 1,700
23rd 14,000
24th 13,900
25th 16,200
26th 15,200
27th 25,500
28th 20,800
Week Three

Sunday 29th
29th 15,400
30th 10,100
December
1st 5,100
2nd 5,200
3rd 17,100
4th 7,200
5th 7,200

Week Four
Sunday 6th
6th 8,300
7th 19,200
8th 24,200
9th 17,200
10th 22,500
11th 17,200
12th 19,000

Week Five
13th 13,500
14th 19,200
15th 14,600
16th 7,500
17th 7,800
18th 21,600
19th 30,300

Roy Tomkinson: LOG EIGHT FROM NEW ZEALAND SUNDAY 20th DECEMBER, ONE DAY LOG

2009-12-20T16:38:00.000-08:00

(Sunday 20th December)

Up at 7am, was going up my son’s house but didn’t have to in the end, so I stayed in the house, I’m having my grandson this afternoon, so it looks as if the ducks will be having another feast. The sky is blue, there are a few clouds, but the day looks to be fine.

We really do live in a wonderful world.

(11.27) I’d better get dressed and take a shower, my grandson should be here shortly.
(11.50am) He’s arrived, my grandson, a little play and he went to sleep until 2pm, a piece of toast with cheese, a little play again, and we went down to feed the ducks, his mother turned up around (3.30pm,) now I'll waiting for my son to arrive, he’s working, when he arrives I'll put pasta spirals into the hot water.

The dessert is in the fridge, all done.

It’s sunny out with a few white clouds, but it’s rather windy outside just now. Having an easy day today, reading, talking, listening and watching the television, and of course, playing with my grandson, and slowly, I’m becoming worn out – but it’s fun.
A dessert tip: if you use pineapple and kiwi fruit in jelly it doesn’t set that well, I know, I did it earlier today, but by placing it in the freezer for a little while it has done the trick, and by covering the top with strawberries. Also, I’ll placed a few slices of peaches on top, and I'll it serve with fresh cream – job done.
(6pm) Watching the news, and I see Europe and America are having a rough time with the weather, snow, rain, and general mayhem, glad I’m out here enjoying the mild weather. I know the UK has also had a difficult time with the weather, even the Channel Rail connection with France is finding it difficult to stay in operation, not a good omen for the future.
I’ll be having the evening meal shortly. My son will be late tonight, so I’ll have the evening meal now and he can have his when he gets here.

Meal over, they stayed a while and left to put the boy to bed, then I watch the television, there was a programme on about obese children. Wow, Christmas is creeping closer and closer, how strange I find it, normally it's cooking and planning, but not this year.

Roy Tomkinson: LOG SEVEN FROM NEW ZEALAND: 19th of December, ONE DAY ONLY LOG

2009-12-20T15:49:00.000-08:00

(Saturday 19th December)

Up at 8.10, didn’t go for the Indian meal after, cancelled – didn’t feel in the mood to eat and talk, but I did go into town later, 9.30pm I left the house and back by 11.30pm and had a few beers, Tai blond, is BEER I like best. Tired this morning, I did a lot of exercise yesterday, gym, swimming, and I walked 30,300 steps, around 12 miles. Will take it a little easier today, perhaps I’ll do a little cooking later.

Invented a great receipt, I’ll share my idea with you; I’ve called it:-
Scrumptious Tomkinson Casserole (I'm vain in case you were wondering)

Ingredients:

1. one packet of sausage, remove casings, (good quality sausage, beer or pork)
2. ½ cup of chopped shallots
3. 3 garlic cloves, minced or shopped fine
4. ½ cut of chopped drained oil-packed sun dried tomatoes (any dried tomatoes will do)
5. Tbsp chopped fresh parsley
6. 5 to 6 eggs according to size
7. 3 egg yolks
8. 1 cup of milk, full fat milk
9. 1 cup of whipping cream
10. Two cups grated mozzarella cheese, cheddar is just as good (tried both)
11. ½ teaspoon of salt (don’t over salt, be careful more can be added later)

Method:
Preheat oven to 1800 C Butter a (about) 9 x 13 inch glass baking dish. Sauté the sausage in a medium non-stick pan over a medium heat until brown and cooked through (don’t rush this) breaking the sausage with a folk into small pieces.
Later, add the chopped shallots and sauté for 3 to 4 minutes. Add the sun-dried tomatoes and 2Tbsp. Parsley. Spread the mixture from the pan in the prepared dish and the first part is complete. I do this a day before I need it and keep in it in the refrigerator – don’t forget to cover the top.
Stage Two:
Whisk eggs, plus egg yolks, and half the whipping cream (1/2 a cup) with three quarters of the grated cheese, add the salt into the bowl and blend well (important, the lightness makes the disk so mixing well will pay dividends) and pour the mix over the sausage mixture which you prepared earlier.
Sprinkle remaining ½ cut of cheese and the remaining 2 tablespoons of parsley over the top. Bake, don’t cover the top, until top of casserole is golden brown (tip: insert a knife into the centre and if it comes out clean, the dish is cooked). Let it stand for 5 minutes before serving.
I make a great winter warmer dish, or can be a scrumptious breakfast disk with fresh wholemeal bread.
Try it; it’s easy to make.

(11am) off out now.
I got back from town at 1.30 had lunch and read a paper which I had bought, together with a few other food items mainly fresh fruit, but I did buy a few packets of lean mince. It really is quite inexpensive to live out here.
The weather is glorious outside, as I write I can hear the birds singing. I just melted some butter, a few cloves of crushed garlic and a little bit of fresh mint: the mint I planted in a pot outside just after I moved into the house and it is flourishing, as is the basil I planted at the same time. I’ll use it to make garlic bread tomorrow, I only have four for dinner tomorrow, two can’t make it, no worries.

MY OBSERVATION
Walking around the area, taking notice of nature, seeing its beauty, listening to its sounds and rhythms, started me to wonder just how the picture is put together with such symmetry... Coming home last night the sky was full of stars, and it set me to wonder about its randomness, and how many people would have us believe it is just a set number of random acts without reason, logic, or coherence – nothing but an accident. Everything is thrown into the pot – “toil and trouble, bubble, bubble” - by the three witches from Macbeth, and out of which comes this wonder symmetrical universe.
A random act the atheist would have us believe, this is the modern world, science is now the new KING: “there is no God. Grow up, get real, it’s not cool anymore,” they shout, the modern world has no room for silly mentality, and superstitious mumbo-jumbo.
Any yet, when I wrote my last manuscript I did a lot of research into Tran humanism and the structure of our universe, and our place in it.
STICK WITH ME; DON’T TURNED YOURSELF OFF JUST NOW.
If I get a little over technical please forgive me my immoderation. What I write next you may have to read a few time before the message actually sinks in; it took me months of research to find the answer. Keep an open mind, so here goes. This is what I found out.
My view used to be, enjoy your life, it’s the only one you’ll ever likely to have; there is probably no God, this short life is all we ever get. My stubborn mind, like most, demands absolute proof: if there is more, you must show me! For me: I demand incontrovertible unequivocal proof there is a hand at work within Creation.
But the rub is raw for me; there is an irreconcilability that gnaws inside of my mind, and won’t be stilled: how can I account for the physical universe, the biological world, the nature of humankind, without remedy to a Creator?
What is the likelihood of us being here merely by chance?
I’ll use Probability Theory and science to answer my own question. For the first time, in our enlightened age of science, I can quantify part of the answer in problematic mathematical terms.
The result of this logic on me, I find, is quite profound.
PLEASE, YOU MUST STAY WITH ME. DON’T JUMP SHIP JUST YET.
I’ll start with the physical universe; cosmology informs us that the universe is sophisticated and extremely finely balanced. Its density, back just before the first moment before the big bang was critically balanced to better that one part in one billion billion billion billion – in other words, an impossibility it could be BUT a random act. The whole of what we call the universe started as an atom of minute size and is still expanding over distances our minds are incapable of comprehending.
If it were just a fraction denser, the whole lot would have collapsed again back into nothing: a fraction less dense and the lot would have evaporated into nothing – no planets, no stars, no earth: nothing - a blank page.
Therefore, all the known forces of nature are finely balanced relative to each other, a little this, or that way, no protons, and, a little the other, no neutrons. Tweak another way and there are no particles. A little to either side and we are left with only hydrogen. What I’m saying: This balance is all but perfect.
Now the crux: if the universe were truly random, that fine balance would not happen – it is formed as a symphony is written in the mind of the composer, one bar at a time – there is no randomness, and the ear is exposed to a beautiful sound. The music would sound chaotic without a planned structure. No one would dare say that Beethoven’s Symphony was but a random sound! Any yet, some believe something infinitely more complex (more complex to the squared power of a million millions) in structure is but random.
The only way round this, for the sceptically minded, is for them to postulate that a vast number of other universes exist, and our earth randomly came into existence, somehow, just on a whim. It pulsated into existence out of chaos, and ours is the only one, which has the right value combination for molecules to sustain life and for humans to evolve. All the rest are structures of chaos and random actions, which is clearly not the case. Just looking at the stars will tell you that is not so. Everything has a finite life span, from us humans to the stars themselves, they are born, live out their lives, and die seemingly in chaos, but it is not so, for out of this seeming chaos the destruction itself stimulates new birth, nothing random there.
Ah, you say, Darwin, there the answer lies, but the more we find out the less that proves to be the case. The biological world is constructed around amazingly complex molecules like proteins, DNA, RNA etc.
Each structure reads as if a sentence from a novel, one leading neatly to the other, from sentence to paragraph, to page, chapter, book, volume, library, and the evolution can be traced back billions of years to its origin. So the sceptic says, case proven, the comparison is clear: wait long enough and the precursor to a protein would naturally self assemble, as if my magic! The magic dragon goes puff and there it is!
Let’s look at probability theory and go into mathematics to see if the theory can be substantiated.
It is said, give enough monkey enough typewriters and eventually you’ll have another Shakespeare. Yet, our euro lottery, with just seven numbers, has odds of around 100 million to one. So extrapolating these odds, by adding only one other number, the odds increase by a factor of ten.
Take the words “The Encyclopedia Britannica” 25 words with three capitals and two spaces. The odds of randomly typing these words correctly are incalcable. Not even if a billion monkeys typing on a billion typewriters for the life time of the universe’s existence would they come up the these three words in the above order. Yet, this problem is dwarfed by that of constructing, by random chance, a single protein like nitrogenise.
Nitrogenise is the catalyst that splits the bonds in a nitrogen gas molecule to make soluble nitrates. It is the only known route that the plant world has discovered to `fix’ nitrogen without which, they could not exist.
It comprises 25.000 atoms with around 2000 amino acid residues. These represent the letters, “The Encyclopedia Britannica” in the above example. The random probability for that protein to exist is - one part to 10: raised to the power of 2,600 – an impossibility, and we are talking here of just one variable. Even if every cubic millimetre of the entire universe were crammed with the essential components, one of these molecules could not self-assemble randomly over the life of the universe – not even in a vast number of universes, and that is just one protein.
Now the shocker: the human body uses about 100,000 proteins, (Do you get the picture? And I’m using tried and tested mathematical formulae to show the odds). Notwithstanding, the mechanism needed to make these proteins are themselves unbelievably complex. The human ribosomes, which does just a part of that process, consists of more than 80 different proteins.
The template for each protein is a gene structure encoded in DNA, a code that transforms and translates genes to protein. A vast number of codes are possible, but a computer simulation will show that this code (DNA) is apparently the least error prone code of them all, at the very least, the symmetry is better than one in 100 million. In other words, inversely, the perfected odds are those of winning the lottery every time you buy a ticket, hardly random, in fact, an impossibility.
PLEASE, ALMOST THERE - STICK WITH ME.
DNA itself uses machinery to replicate and is reliant on protein to do the job and to protect it from decomposition. The cell in turn is a marvel of complexity – a miniature city, (worlds within worlds come to mind) with information systems, power systems, transportation systems, refuse collection factories, ambulances, police and gatekeepers (get the picture!)
Each human cell has half a million ribosomes, and to pick just one of the 100,000 proteins: haemoglobin is produced by ribosomes in bone marrow at a rate of 100 million million-protein molecules every second, hope you caught that, `every second.’
The biological world is one improbability after another, like the physical universe, it is unbelievably finely balances and we have no idea how even the simplest elements came into existence, and by calculating probabilities, it can be shown, there is no randomness – so what is really out there?
THERE, I HOPE THAT WASN’T TOO PAINFUL FOR YOU – LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! I’ve been battling for the answer for years.
Went out last night and had my Indian Meal just two of us – couldn’t really put it off any longer, no wine, I wasn’t in the mood in the restaurant, the meal was exceptional, and paid for. But I drank water, but I was back in the house by 10pm, didn’t wish to go out on the town, no offence to anyone, and I walked home admiring the stars.

Read a little and watched a film (I don’t usually do that) on my laptop, “Journey to the Centre of the Earth,” with Brendon Frazer. I borrowed it from the library, and it was in 3D, glasses supplied, with a chilled glass of white wine: New Zealand Pinot Gris from the North Island, Hawkes Bay, Montana, a good wine, this wine, the Pinot Gris part, brings back good memories, 12.10am in bed.

ONE DAY LOG

Roy Tomkinson: LOG SIX FROM NEW ZEALAND: from 16th of December to Friday 18th of December

2009-12-20T15:33:00.000-08:00

(Wednesday 16th December)

Up at 7am, gave my grandson breakfast and dropped him off at nursery at 8am, then down the gym until 9am, back, had breakfast, the usual, and a shower.
A few clouds are about this moring, lingering as if waiting for friends – hope not - but it’s quite warm. It should turn out to be a warm day. Read a little, and for the rest of the morning I drafted an email, which took me most of the morning, it was critical for me to get this one right. There were quite a few attachments and all had to be checked before I could press the send button. I hope something comes of it, I will know in a few weeks.

Didn’t have the time to go snorkelling, also, I had intended to attend an evening class as well, where does all the time go? Honestly, I really don’t know.
The afternoon I posted my blog and brought a few things up to date, and shot off a few email, almost up to date there for the present, but still need a few sent to America. I’ll definitely do them this week, and it was time to fetch my grandson from nursery.
I took him home and walked back to my house. The evening I read and watched the television, in bed by 9.30pm; feeling tired tonight. Need to write tomorrow morning, set the clock of 7am to go to the gym first, been three times this week.
(Thursday 17th December)

Up at 8pm, alarm didn’t go off, was going down the gym but I felt stiff and gave it a miss, read for a while and went out for a walk along the Waikato River. Weather good this morning, no clouds, but there is a cold wind, back home for lunch, (12.30) salad with rice beans with chopped onion, a boiled egg with a little cheese and a piece of soy and linseed bread – most enjoyable.
Then I had a walk into town, found a mobile phone on the road, rang, and found out to whom it belongs and I returned it to where he works, Pizza Hut, Taupo. I walked around town for a little while and I bought a bottle of wine and a bar of chocolate. I haven’t had an alcoholic drink for over a week, will have a glass or two of wine tonight and take in easy, in bed by 10.45, a little read and straight to sleep.
(Friday 18th December)

Up and out at 8am to the gym, back in house at 9.30am for breakfast, feeling really good, did training with weights today but also did a little cardio vascular exercises as well. The weather is sunny today, blue sky with little to no wind.
Need to shop today for food, for Sunday I’m doing spaghetti bolognaise: desert, a fresh fruit in a jelly sauce, the key to New Zealand is to buy fruit and vegetables when in season, strawberries are in plentiful supply and relatively cheap to purchase as are bananas, not sure yet how many people for dinner yet on Sunday.
Today may be the day when I go in the lake. I’ve been promising myself all the week I’ll go – I’ll see later; need to do some writing first. But before that, a few more, `did you know conundrums:'
A `jiffy’ is an actual unit of time of 1/100th of a second, and nothing to do with lemons.
A shark is the only fish (according to current knowledge) that can blink with both eyes.
A snail can sleep for three years. (A few people who I know seem to be permanently asleep)
Almonds are a member of the peach family.
An ostrich’s eye is bigger that its brain. (Funny that: I know a few guys and girls like that, whose eyes are a lot bigger, peas brains comes into my mind.)
Anyway, that is all for now.
(1pm) I have finally done it, just just come back, been snorkelling in the lake, a little cold at first when you get in but afterwards, not a problem. There’s not a lot to see, didn’t even see a fish, not a single one, but that’s to be expected, trout are notoriously shy and stay hidden.

The visibility was rather good, but there was a wind coming off the lake creating waves, small ones granted, but nevertheless, they were waves. There were quite a number of small sailing boats out today, looked to be some kind of race.
Just had lunch, cold tin of tomatoes with salt, pepper and lot of vinegar with soy and linseed bread, most enjoyable and light on the digestion. Been invited out tonight to an Indian Restaurant, been fancying it for a while, but not sure yet where I’ll go, will give a decision after 5.30pm, I should know by then if I’ll babysitting, much prefer to have my grandson than go out on the town.

Will take a little rest now before I go shopping in town.
(6pm) Just got back from shopping, tired; it’s been an energetic day, will rest a little, I think I’ll cancel going out tonight, will listen to the news and then make a final decision, I have till 7pm to decide.

I’m not having my grandchild tonight so I can’t give myself that excuse. Listening to the news, there is an argument which has been raging apparently for years over the name on a place whether it should by spelt:

Wanganui

Whanganui.

Today the matter has been settled by the council subject to ratification by the Parliament. The both name are to be used, so now it is official, the both names are correct - a lot of fuss over nothing if you ask me, but I makes for interest.

Roy Tomkinson: Log Five: New Zealand from the 10the of December to the 15th of December 2009

2009-12-15T19:43:00.000-08:00

(10th December time, 7.15am)

The sun is out, the birds are singing, there is a slight wind with not a cloud in the sky, a good start to the day, woke at 7am. Read until 8.30am, then my son phoned and ask if I could take him to work and fetch his son from nursery at 5pm this afternoon. Will spend the morning in the library. I walked a lot yesterday so I’ll take it a little easier today.
A morning conundrum:
“Stewardesses” is the longest word typed with using only the left hand.
“Lollipop” is the longest word typed with your right hand.
Silly I know, but interesting nevertheless, if you find two others words which are longer, (English language of course) I’ll send you a free copy of my novel.
(11.55am) Just got back from the library in town, my pedometer states I have walked just over 6000 steps, and it is registering healthy and it’s only lunch time, called in the gym on the way back and obtained an application form to join.

With a little bartering I’m paying $99 for three-month membership, and that will take to me to the 12th of March, which will do me just fine, the full price is $189, so I had a good deal. I think I bamboozled the girl on reception, I don’t think she is used to bartering, but it worked – will fill the application and return it tomorrow at 10am, the time she agreed.
The amount of junk I receive everyday in my postbox is way over the top, today is the worse, over twenty pieces of advertising, no matter, it’ll help light the log stove. Will have beans on toast for lunch (Watties Beans: I tried the value ones, but they are not good, but these are exceptionally good) one of my favourite meals.
Been to town, at last I have the meat, silverside, for $6, will make beef in red wine. Read for most of the afternoon and then picked up the boy, and took him home and put him to bed at 7.15, left his house when his father turned up after work, home now (9.30pm) will have food and to bed, walked a lot again today, 22,000 steps.
A shop in town sells professional fins and goggles with snorkels, and they are on offering 15% off until Sunday, they are top quality, and were not expensive to start with, will buy them tomorrow, made up my mind straight away, but will sleep on it first, best to be sure. And will snorkel in the lake. I’ve heard there are caves somewhere and I’ll explore them, the water is warming up every day – today it’s been 25 deg, with a slight wind this morning but it dies off in the afternoon.
When I remember, just read in the daily paper: the Mayor of Kabul continues to run Afghanistan’s capital despite being sentenced to four years in jail for corruption charges. Mayor Abdul Ahad Sehabi who is 63 years old, was found guilty last Monday of awarding a contract for a city project without placing the contract out to competition. A court sentenced him to four years in jail, yet, he is still in office. What a country! As I said a little earlier, it is a corrupt country: how is it possible for someone to remain in office after what has happened! The culture is amnesia to us in the West, and our solidiers are dying for that, disgraceful.

(Friday 11th of December, time 6.20am)

The early bird chorus woke me this morning at 5.45, I lay a little, but couldn’t go back to sleep, so here I am, and will do a few hours writing, the weather will be good today and I don’t want to be in doors if I can help it.
(8.15am) A good morning, been writing for almost two hours and I’ve completed 1,600 words, a good start. I will have breakfast now: Apricots, plums, a banana topped with Greek yogurt and eat as I work.

(9.15am) I have had a good morning writing, the words flowed out of my fingers onto the screen, completed two thousand words so far, will stop now and change from out my night clothes, and get ready to go to the gym later.

I’m expecting my daughter-in-law down shortly so can’t leave until then, she is dropping the car off and I’ve taking her to work. I’m fetching my grandson from school and he’s spending the night with me, so I need the car. Later, when I go into town, I need to get my swimming stuff and then into the lake for a long swim.
Went to town, and joined the gym for three months, spoke to a really nice woman, Sara, when I gave her my completed application form I had to state what I did. When she noticed I was a writer, she was right interested in my work and we had a little chat. I didn’t stay for a work out, I may go back after lunch, or even tomorrow, we'll have to see. It opens a 6am every day, but the weather forecast is not that good tomorrow.
I did intend to go swimming, and was in the shop ready to purchase what I need and the phone rings, my son was in town, I met up with him and his wife and we went for lunch in Acacia Bay about 10 - 15 minutes drive from Taupo town centre.
It’s really nice over there; spectacular in fact, quite up market, really enjoyed the afternoon lunch, back in house now (1.30pm). I’ll purchase the gear later today or tomorrow. I have until Sunday before the price goes back up and my son will lend me his surfing boots, may need a wet suite, will see after my first swim.

The weather has turned rather cloudy, but it’s still warm and I’m fetching my grandson a 5pm from nursery; he’s spending the night, and I’ve collected loads of bread for him to feed the ducks in the Waikato River just down the hill from my house.
I notice they have quite a few tracks of land for sale in Acadia Bay: 4 acres, (I hectare) for around $160,000, and you build your own house. That's enough land for a horse, a few chickens and cattle, and a pig or two if you like the life style, right near the lake, good value if our £ wasn’t so darn weak.

It used to be $3 to the £, now it around $2.2 to Sterling and their currency seems to be hardening against other European currencies and the American Dollar.
A right mess our government has made of things, we are the only Western economy still in recession when measures against GDP, despite the amount of money the government has pumped into the economy under the fancy heading of Quantitive Easing over the last 18 month, together with funding the banks against their toxic debt. And yet, we are still show negative economic growth for the last quarter.
But on the news last night, a New Zealand economist stated their $ was overprices in comparison to other currencies, so it might well weaken a little, the strong New Zealand $ will make exports that much no expensive, vis-a-vis against other currencies. But we’ll have to see, so there could be opportunities for the brave hearted to buy Sterling and sit on it. Then, if the £ strengths and goes to $3, there will be a third gain, but of course, that is only my opinion, and there is risk, the $ could become even stronger, and there would be a loss by holding Sterling.
Just finished cutting up the beef, over here that cut is called, “corned silverside” and is salted, so I will let it soak in cold water and change in every few hours and run in under the cold tap to get the salt out.

But the value astounds me, £3 for 1.77 kilos, will cook it in a red wine sauce and glazed onions, use a little celery with selected herbs: a real slow cook is needed for this dish. Remember to seal the beef first using a hot frying pan with a little oil with a clove or two of crushed garlic mixed into the oil first. If you want the full recipe drop me a line and I’m email it to you with a few tips I’ve learned on the way.
(5.15pm) I collected my grandson from nursery and made him a special smoothie, an ordinary smooth is just using fruit, but I’ve invented “a special smoothie” which includes an ice cream as well, with blackberry juice. Later, we went to feed the ducks, a light supper, a shower, and then he’s to bed.
I read and watched television until 10pm and I went to bed really tired.
(Saturday 12th December)

Up 6.15, my grandson’s time to rise, we watched a few cartoon together and I read, breakfast at 8 and then we went down to feed the ducks. I then cut and sealed the beer and made the sauce in readiness for tomorrow.
The weather is wet this morning; the forecast did predict it yesterday so it’s no surprise. Stayed in the house reading and playing with my grandson until 12.30 when I prepared lunch.
If the day was sunny I intended to go and have a swim in the lake, but that’s now out of the question, need go and look for a wet suite later, and to do a little shopping.
Other than 2 small bottles of beer at the barbecues last Tuesday, I haven’t had an alcoholic drink in over a week, was thinking of going into town tonight, but with the overcast sky and more rain forecasted, I can’t see it happening.

The novel by Euanie MacDonald, which I’ve almost finished, is a well written piece of fiction. The plot and characterisation blend perfectly, pity she’s only written the one novel – to my knowledge anyway.
Well, I wouldn’t have believed it, the weather this afternoon changed, the sky turned blue, the sun came out, rain gone. This weather takes some getting used to. Went to town after I dropped my grandson off at 5pm, and I now have a wet suite, 2.5mm, thickness, knee length, a lot cheaper than back home. I’m ready now for the water to snorkel and canoe.

Back home now warming a lamb curry, also, the meal tomorrow night is slow cooking in the oven. If I’m not too tired, I might go out tonight, up so early this morning, perhaps not. Tomorrow there are carols in park at 6pm, would like to go, but not sure yet what time the evening meal will be, two of my guests are working and not sure what time they’ll finish, I’ll know around 4pm tomorrow.

(Sunday 13th of December)

I did go out after last night into town at 9pm, I felt tired earlier on, lounged, read, but around 8.30pm, I felt invigorated and so the town it was. I got back just after 11.30, in bed by 12am read a little. Woke at 8.30, I slept like a log. Found a new lager I like, Tui Blond, really smooth, had four drinks, a glass is about three quarters of a pint, will try to buy some from the supermarkets next time I shop.
The weather is fairly clouds this morning, just eaten a bowl of muesli plus a banana topped with Greek yogurt and semi skimmed milk. If I carry on eating this yogurt, I’ll be speaking Latin in no time, I think I’m developing an addiction to the stuff.
Christmas is less than two weeks away, seems funny being in warm weather, seeing Santa in the sun, actually there are loads of them around. Some on skies, why not reindeers – that’s a mystery to me bearing in mind the amount of deer they have out here.
Anyway, a few more pieces of did you know conundrums, pretty useless in themselves, but nevertheless worth knowing:
No word in the English language rhymes with orange, silver, or purple.
Dreamt is the only English word that ends in the letters `mt.’
Our eyes are always the same size from birth, but our nose and ears never stop growing, (No sure why that is so, anyone, any answers?).
The sentence: The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog’ uses every letter on the key board.
The words `racecar, kayak,’ and `level’ are the same whether they are read from left to right.
There are only four words which end in `dous:’ tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous.’

If you find any more let me know, but I doubt it. I’ve searched for hours when I was told that, and I failed. Anyway, that’s enough for now will read for a while and then decide what I’m doing for the rest of the day.
Read for the morning, for lunch, rice with onion, cheese and two hard-boiled eggs with a tomato salad. Afterwards finished reading the novel (1.50pm) by Euanie MacDonald, I’d recommend anyone that can got hold of a copy to read it, a most enjoying novel, indeed, very much so.
The sun is out but it’s not as warm as yesterday, so I may stay in for the afternoon and read, that's all day reading I suppose until the meal tonight – I can hear the birds chattering and chirping away outside my window.

I'll not be making, “Carols in the Park” tonight, startes at 6 o clock, and I’d have liked to gone, but the meal is set, chucks, never mind, there’ll be other times.
(Evening 6pm) Haven’t been over the door today, read for most of the afternoon, James Patterson with Andrew Gross, “The 3rd Degree,” the chapters are really small, some less than one page long, also in-between, had a little sleep.
The evening meal is ready for 6.30pm; beef is red wine etc, with glazed carrots, boiled potatoes, peas, and green beans. No starters this time: dessert is a lemon cake base (left from last week) topped with chopped strawberries in a red jelly let to set harden in fridge, with custard, (not the custard I bought last week, that was terrible, this is a more expensive brand) and topped with cream. If it tastes as good as it looks, it’ll go down a treat.
Meal put back to 7.30pm, two guests are working late, not a problem, everything is in the oven ready to serve.

Meal (9.10) went well, they’ve just gone, feeling quite tired, being collected at 8am tomorrow to go down the gym. I haven’ walked a lot today, only around 4,000 steps.
Also, I learned there are caves around the lake, lava holes about two metres down and I can swim through and come out the other end in a cave, apparently, not many people know of the caves – well worse an explore.
Now I’m watching, `The Thirty Nine Steps’ by John Buchanan and then to bed. Oh no, the film has a woman in it as a main character: there is no woman in the book. Why do they do that? They should stick to the story in the book, but I suspect to brings a romantic sexual element into the story.

Gone off the film now, I’ll have a read instead, in bed by 10.30.

(Monday 13th December)

Up at 7.30am and straight down the gym. It’s third of a mile from my house to the gym, had a good work out, cardio and weights, back home by 9.20am to shower, feeling invigorated. Breakfast, muesli, banana and Greek yogurt, saw my son down there, the gym was quite full, and we walked back together.

He lives quite a way from the gym; at least a 30 minute walk from my house. The weather is cloudy this morning and it belted down with rain for most of the night. Since I have been here there has been a lot of rain, but I was told that in November it was the driest month on record, so I expect there’s something of a catch up.
I haven’t checked my emails for a few days, may do so later. If the sum comes out, I'll go down the lake for a snorkel.

(9.55) I’ll write now for a while, and take the rest of the day as manãna, I feel lazy today.
(12.50) Just finished writing for the day, lunch: rice with raw onion, mixed, lettuce and tomato salad, tuna fish and wholemeal bread, with a trifle left from yesterday, then I’m going into town, the weather is overcast so I’ll not be going snorkelling in the lake today.
(3.0pm) Just got back in the house, went down to the library, there is a waiting list for the internet, school has broken up last Friday for the holidays. This is their main summer holiday, ours is in July and August, not to worry. I’ll go down by 9am tomorrow when it opens, OK then, the girl informed me with a smile, “The little darlings are out of school,” were her words, will go training first at 7.30am spend a hour in the gym, and then to the library.
Later, if the sun is out, I may finally get into the lake and snorkel, there are still clouds about, but it’s rather warm now. Think I’ll have a coffee and read for a while, bought a large bar of chocolate, but I haven’t opened it yet, I’ll have a few squares tonight, the chocolate out here is a lot nicer. For dinner I’m having sausages with the vegetables left over from yesterday, there’s just enough left for a tidy meal. Read for the rest of the night, in bed my 10pm.

Tuesday 15th December)

Up at 7am and straight out to the gym, worked out into 8.45, and then I went to the library, it opens a 9am and updated my blog. I was going to check my email but didn’t have the time, I had research to conduct and it was gone 10am before I had finished (You’re only allowed the Internet for an hour at a time and by 10am there were a few waiting.
I had a walk about town then home (11.05am). I was thinking of going down the lake but the weather is rather windy with a few clouds, so it may be this afternoon. I’ll get there some time. I’ll have an early lunch, missed breakfast this morning, unusual for me. I’ll read a little and do some writing. It should get quite warm later; it is funny spending Christmas, hearing bells, seeing Santa, when the sun is out, takes a bit of getting used to.
More did you know fact:-
Two words in the English Language have all five vowels in order:
Abstemious = self-denying, moderate, self-disciplined, sober.
Facetious = teasing, tongue in cheek.
TYPEWRITER is the only longest word that can be made using only the letter on one row of the keyboard.
Did you know? A cat has 32 muscles in each ear – weird, but true, honest!

(2.50) Just finished the novel by James Patterson, “The 3rd Degree” He is easy to read, short cutting paragraphs, he knows how to keep the interest, he pulls you in and then holding you, I’ll read a few more of his book over the next few weeks.
I’ve just started another book. This time a complete change of tempo: A political Biography by Fritz J. Raddatz, of “Karl Marx," and from what I’ve read so far, he wasn’t a particularly nice person, but it’s early days as yet, will let you know more after I’ve ploughed through it. It’s a rather hefty read and it should keep me occupied for quite a while. I’ll not be reading it all at once, but dipping in and out over the next few weeks while reading a few other novels in-between.
Fetch my grandson from school, he’s staying the night, I made spaghetti bolognaise for dinner, and latter we went down to the river, only a few steps away, and fed the ducks and he was in bed asleep by 7.15. I read and watched television until 10.30pm and went to bed.

Fourth Log New Zealand from Monday 7th of December to 9th of December 2009

2009-12-08T14:25:00.000-08:00

(Monday 7th December)

Up 4pm, still dark - couldn't sleep, read for a few hours. At the start of the day, as the light broke, it is a little cloudy, but it brightened up around 9am, and the morning turned out to be warm.

(10am) Went for a walk, needed a long walk (writing will have to wait a day or so) along the Waikato River up as far as the Huka Falls, and onward to the Kayak Centre to compare prices. I intend to spend a day on the lake Kayaking, will go with an organised party first. I haven’t used a Kayak for quite a while and I need a little retraining. Later, I’ll probably hire one for a few weeks to explore the lake and river, but will go with a party whenever possible, but I don’t mind if I’m alone, it give one time to think.

Arrived back late afternoon, the sun is hot and I need to be careful, stopped to watch a few people Bungee Jump. I did intend to go down the library but I felt too tired, I was totally drained and needed to rest, on the plus side, I can feel myself getting fitter, so there is a positive.

Sometimes I push myself too hard, today was one of those times, so I stayed in the house, watched television, and read for the rest of the time, in bed by 11.30 circa, a little read and to sleep.

(Tuesday 8th December) Slept well last night, woke at 9am, late for me, so I must have been tired. I’m not feeling that grand this morning, a headache, I'll drink a lot of water this morning, perhaps I’m a little dehydrated, who can tell, but I did drink a lot yesterday when walking, but I suspect not enough, will have to watch that in future.

Will spend to morning in the library, need to do emails, have a few to answer, three to American, and walk this afternoon, but will rest more.

This in indeed novel for me! I intend to downgrade my writing to 1000 words per day, 5,000 per week, for me, a mere walk in the park! This is such a wonderful country and I love being outdoors, but I am here to complete my next manuscript and that is what I'll do, but in my own time. My manic writing days are over, proportionality, from now on, I have a friend back home who has always said that to me, and for me to not push myself so hard - a bit late I knew, but if that person happens to be reading this, take note. I'm listening to the message.

(2pm) Didn’t call in the library after, went around town down and to the harbour, some nice boats down there, went past the yacht club, looks a really impressive building, will call in there sometime and make myself know.

Found out Rotary meets there 6.30 every Monday evening, will definitely go to a meeting sometime, will ring the President and tell him I wish to attend one of his meeting, and when there, I’ll volunteer to be one of their speaks at a later date about my writing, normally, Rotarian's are always looks for speaker, it'll be fun.

My feet are hurting, walked a lot today; the weather is gorgeous, very warm, I'm covered in sunblock. Definitely I will need to shower before bed tonight.

I notice Woolworth has an offer on beef, (its a supermarket) it is selling silver side at $3.90 a kilo, I will get some. That’s Sunday sorted. I did intend to go to a night class on Wednesday, but that has gone by the wayside. There is so much to do and see out here, but I’m settling in slowly and will attend at some time over the next few weeks and get started.

Just bought a police car and fire engine for Christmas for my grandson, (toys of course) and I’ve just been invited to a barbecues tonight, being picked up at around 5 this afternoon. I’ll read now for a little while and relax – I do like it out here. I also like living in Wales, but not so much as I used to last year, but I won't share that with you, personal to me.

(8.45) Back after the barbecue, enjoyable, only had two small bottle of beer, I was feeling a little tired and needed an early night, but I’ve learned something really interesting. I thought that the longest word in the world came from the Welsh Language, which was always a good brag. That is now dead in the water. The longest word is not from Wales, but from a place name in Hawkes Bay, most will know the place, its famous for its wins.

Compare:

Welsh Word:

Llanfairpwllgwyngllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch

Maori Word:
Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateaturipukakapikimaungahoronukupokaiwhenuaktanatahu

The first word is a railway station in North Wales, in the United Kingdom, and we brag how long the word is, real proud we are in thinking it the longest word anyone knows: but now, no longer!

The second word is a shortened version, yes shortened! And means:

“The brow of the hill where Tamatea, the man with the big knees, who slid, climbed, and swallowed mountains, known as Land Eater, played his flute to his lover.”

Tamatea Pokaiwhenua (Land Eater) was a Maori Chief so famous for his long travels across the North Island that it was said, he ate (pokai) up the land (whenua) as he walked. There are also other names in the region of Hawkes Bay attributed to this ancient chief, will search them out.

What a name, that is a real party stopper. The Welsh is 57 words log: the Maori has 84 words, quite a difference, I think you’ll agree. Will go there later and see for myself and will read a bit of the history.

(Wednesday 9th December)

Woke at 8.30am, slept well, but I did do a lot of walking yesterday, if as if I’m searching for something, and yet, I don’t know what it is. The weather is grand this morning, not a cloud in the sky. Intend to go early to the library and upgrade my log on the Internet, and have a walk around lake. I’ll take a few rolls with tuna and a banana with me, always, I travel with a rucksack on my back with something to eat and a bottle of water, instead of buying something to eat and drink when out. I save a lot of money that way, and I know what I am eating, that’s important, the wrong food can really cause me grief.
(4.30Pm) I haven’t written a lot this week, but will do the 5,000 I’ve set myself. Just got back from my walk and the library, posted my third log, and later walked around the lake, done well today, walked 22,000 already, nearly 9 miles. Feeling a little tired, the weather today is hot, 24 Deg, I used plenty of sun block, factor 30, and still needed to be careful. The water is the lake is crystal clear, many were bathing, and I had lunch.

A tomato and lettuce salad with white rise with basaltic vinaigrette, tuna in a roll, and a slice of the lemon cake I made Sunday, ate in the shade, watching the water and feeding the birds – taking in the ambiance and watching the world go by- a most pleasurable experience. Oh yes, the Waikato River is back to its normal depth, the gates controlling the flow from the lake were full open when I passed.
Also, I have borrowed a book from the library: Maori History and Place Names of Hawkes Bay, by J.D.H. Buckanan, edited by D.R Simmons, first published in 1973.

The ISBN should anyone be interested is, 0-7900-0971-4. Looks on the face of it to be a most interesting read, will let you know later what I think, but will finish the novel I’m currently reading by Euanie MacDonald, “Steelworkers Row” about Scotland, the hatred that exists just before the Second World War between the Catholics and Protestants in Scotland, the story seems somewhat familiar to me.
(10.10pm) I’m watching the news: Iraq, just heard on the news, over 150 killed, hundreds injured, and it’s only today that the country announced its election date. This country, like Afghanistan, is ungovernable, politicians, the police force, the culture, are corruptly inept.

What is wrong with these people? I’m at a loss, and I suspect many others see it the same way: I just can’t see an answer. I know more troops are going into Afghanistan, America alone is sending another 30,000 troops and the UK around 500 with other countries doing the same.
Unless the cultures in these counties change, I see no hope for the future in these two countries. I have written a manuscript, yet to be published, about two counties, one calls API the other ANION, where I bring a lot of these out into the open and I look at it from both sides of the divide – the hate has to stop before there is progress.
There is a saying, `when you lose a loved one, irrespective where you are in the spectrum of life, the feeling is the same.’ God, I hope we learn, killing each other hasn’t worked throughout history, it creates bitterness and a wish for revenge, and it won’t work now. My advice for what’s it worth, LET THE HATE GO, anyway it’s my bed time, 11.05pm.

Next blog from the 10th of December onward.

Roy Tomkinson: Log Three New Zealand 1st of December to the 7th of December 2009

2009-12-08T14:17:00.000-08:00

(Tuesday, 1st of December)

Time 9.15am, the weather outside is chucking it down, The first day of summer, sure is a rough day outside, when it rains out here is sure rains – can’t see me going out a lot today if this weather keeps up – definitely no sun block today.
Wrote for most of the morning, at 1pm went into town in the car, bought a load of herbs and mince, plus a few other things I need to cook in bulk, and later, called in the library for a few books, (time 3.40pm).
Wonder of wonders, the weather has turned good, still quite cloudy, but warm. I would never have thought it possible looking out my window this morning. The forecast after tomorrow is sunny and warm, the reason there is rain, a high and low press in the heavens are fighting each other for supremacy over the country, and it’ll take a few days for it to clear and for the warm air to win the battle.
Need to do research on Hamilton at some time, in a few weeks perhaps, and to study Maori traditions and compare them to Welsh traditions, doing a lot more research now than I did for my early manuscripts, but my last two manuscripts were heavily researched in fairness to me. I

It just seems so when you are in the thick of it, but that’s to be expected as my work grows ever deeper, and new set of values seem to take over. I have a message to impart, what it is, well I’m not actually sure, but it’s there somewhere inside my mind, and when it’s ready it will come out in words. And old friend said it would when I am ready, and that person is normally right.
Back home for the day now, will have a cooking day tomorrow, I now have all I need, I'm rather self-sufficient I suppose, but there’ll be a few hours of writing first. Listening to the Treorchy Male Voice Choir as I write this log, my old school friend from Cwmparc is in it, Brian, the song: Lest We Forget.”
They say you can take the man out of the Rhondda, but never the Rhondda out of the man – must be getting nostalgic as I get older – funny really, I’m as far away from Wales as anyone can get on this planet.
Emailed my daughter yesterday, and my eldest grandson, also my friend `A.’ I have heard from my daughter, via text, stated she has replied, very quick, next time I’m on line I will log and read. I hope she can make it out here in February.
(Evening) Watched a show about a circus family who had excess hair on face and body, in fact, their face was covered with hair, in one case a two year old child was paraded around a circus ring for the audience to gawk at.

They were called Wolf People, it was obvious they didn’t like it, but as one of the mothers said, “It’s the only way are able to make a living.” Sad to see people exploited in that way – in bed by 11,20pm and read for a while.
(Wednesday 2nd December) Woke at 9pm, sleeping well, I was later than usual in bed last night, and I read for quite a while. Cloudy this morning, not cold, the good weather should start to come in tomorrow or Friday. Intend to cook later, but first will start to write.
My son and his wife called around about 12am and stayed for twenty minutes, write a little after they left, only 10 minutes, (12.30pm) been plot planning for most of the morning and going over what I’ve already written. Slowly, I am getting the main character inside my head, I need to feel as he feels, and that takes quite number of days, not quite there yet, but by the end of the week I should be near the mark. In not, over t he next few weeks almost definately, but no worried, I'm not as manic as I used to be when I wrote, I take things slower than I used to do.
Just come back from the Salvation Army Charity Shop, purchased few more plates: 30c each, four for a dollar, really cheap, a masher, a set of weighing scales, and of course, free bread – would have preferred wholemeal, but can hardly complain.
It’s only now stopped raining, it has been chucking it down all morning, the sky is covered in dark grey low clouds, the high and the low pressures are still battling it out in the atmosphere. I said it too soon, the rain has just started again, I can see it on the window (1.10pm), but it’s warm, which makes a change when it rains back home. For lunch, I’m having salad, coleslaw, black olives, and tasty cheese with a bread role: `yummy!’
May light the log fire later, not for warmth, but the room is real cosy with the log fire going. Finished writing for the day: now, I intend to do the cooking, and later read, I’m picking up my grandson from nursery at 5pm and I’ll take him back to my house.

My son will fetch him around 6.30pm. It’s indoors for the rest of the night, no walking for me today, will try to get to bed earlier tonight – hopefully! I’ll be cooking for seven again on Sunday, haven’t decided on the menu yet, but it will be three courses, perhaps even four like last Sunday, but there’s plenty of time for me to decide.
(3pm) Having a little rest from cooking, sealed the beef mince, used one kilo of mince, grated a few carrots, three tins of red kidney beans, mushrooms, and garlic, also used garlic stouts, I haven’t used them before: black pepper, chilli powder, a little salt, a large tin of tomatoes – chopped, tomato puree – bought a few large tins.

Have two large dishes of chilli – into the over at 150 for a hour, and let it go cold – I’ll reheat it tomorrow for another hour, let it go cold, and place it in pots for freezing (after tasting of course – to determine its strength). There will be enough chilli for at least ten meals, all for very little work, and indeed cost.
The lamb I have left from Sunday, I cut off the meal from leg, I will use to make lamb curry, padded out with grated carrots and chopped mushrooms, a few tomatoes, onions with garlic, a little curry power – value variety (I’m trying it out. Sometimes value products are what they say on the packet, good value, but I haven’t always found that to be the case). A small bit of chilli, a pinch of cumin, a little Garam Musala – could use cayenne pepper, but don’t have any, it should make little difference, and in the oven. I will have enough for four meals with rice – will test for taste, and then freeze.
The lamb bone is slow boiling with the peelings from the vegetables that I peeled, and that’ll make a taste lamb stock after staining - waste nothing that's my motto. (4.45pm) Oven full on, three big pots inside, this cooker is far bigger that the one I have back home; cooking for today complete; will do Chicken Masala tomorrow – perhaps!

It’s almost time to fetch my grandson from nursery school, and to boot, it has just started to rain again – big time. The smell coming for the kitchen is quite delightful, when I light the logs in the fire later, the house will be delightful tonight.
(Thursday 3rd December) Despite yesterday being wet, the night was warm, so I didn’t light the log fire, no need, mainly watch TV and read, had two glasses of wine and in bed by 10.30pm. I woke at 7.45 this morning, a light breakfast of muesli, a large strawberry cut up with semi skimmed milk, and two cups of tea.
The wind is blowing a bit this morning, but there is a blue sky, there are a few white clouds, but not too many. I haven’t walked a lot the last few days, I feel the need to be outdoors today walking.

I am fetching my grandson from nursery school at 5pm this afternoon, and, this I am looking forward to, his is spending the night with me and I will drop him off at his nursery at 8am tomorrow, that is his time from 8 in the morning until 5 in the afternoon, five days a week. He really is an independent little soul, love him to bits.
Will go out this morning and devote a few hours to writing this afternoon – normally I use the morning for writing, but not today. I intend to take up Kayaking at some time – really fancy that on the lake and rivers, my son has agreed to come with my but after Christmas, so I suppose I’ll have to wait – may not, I might just go right ahead and do it myself – I’ll make an initial enquiry as to cost sometime today.

Didn’t do a lot of writing today, but will meet my target of 10,000 per week, hopefully, if not so what! But I need to complete manuscript before I leave New Zealand,

Been walking and then to town, spent a few hours in the library on the internet and reading.
I did originally want a mobile internet connection but the cheapest I could find was for a $100 to purchase the connection and $30 per month thereafter – pre-paid, and you can’t carry the $30 over to the next month if you don’t use up the 5Mb limit. So I joined the library, for $60 total cost for 4 month – and I get $40 back when I resign my membership, and I have full access to the internet. A lot cheaper service and I can take out films, CDs, magazines and books.
For the first month, the limit is any 2 books out at any time for the first 4 weeks, and 10 thereafter – good value by any standard.

Had Spaghetti Bolognese for dinner, also my grandson had the same to eat – he ate all I placed on his plate – he went to bed by 7pm. When he came home from school, I made him a fresh fruit smoothie, banana, two strawberries, two tablespoonfuls of yogurt, with a few spoonfuls of semi skimmed fresh milk; he finished the lot.

Watched television for the rest of the night – read the daily paper. I’m starting to understand what are the main topics in the country – one thing I find rather novel, you haven’t got to have car insurance to drive a car on the road, a 16 year old can drive any car without insurance and it has caused quite a few problems for the police with boy racers, in bed my 10.30.

(Friday 4th December) Took my grandson to school, the start is 8am, he woke at 4am to go to the toilet and went straight back to sleep, woke again at 6am – wakes really early does my grandson. It’s raining again today, and cold, grey clouds abound, so I lit the log fire.
“A” phoned me this morning, we are to communicate via Skype. Wrote for the rest of the morning. I’m 5,000 words into my manuscript, should be 10,000 (I still have Saturday and Sunday, my week starts on Monday). I’ve spent considerable time on research this week, in addition to writing, but I still have a few gaps in the script, which I need to fill after I get the information, but that can come at any time, the main criteria now is character and plot formation.

I am into the main character, starting to get really to know him and his motivations.

The chilli and curry, I will now place in plastic pots and place in the freeze, having chilli tonight for a meal, and will give a few pots to my son and his wife, they really are a close couple, he’s done well there, and my grandson, (Wow! I’m so lucky), fetching him from school later.
My daughter replied to my email – what a surprise I had! I needed a beer afterwards, if I had whiskey it would have been a large one, neat – but our correspondents are not for public consumption. It is a special daughter and father relationship, and totally private – but I will tell you: she’s a very wonderful caring daughter – and she deserves the best.
Still waiting to hear from my eldest grandson via email, but that’ll come in the next day or so, and from my son – I didn’t check my email yesterday.
This afternoon I’ll make a chicken curry, and finish my book “Once Upon America – Hard Times, a story of the Great Depression in the 1920s, by Nancy Antle.
(2pm) Just finished making two large dishes of chicken curry, normally I use only breasts, cut into chunks, with skins removed, and seal in frying pan, and then I add the spices, place in dish and into the oven, but chicken out here is very expensive – all are free range. A good thing in one way, but it does bump the price up quite a lot. My friend would think it strange that I never eat chicken on the bone We use to laugh over it - referring to me as eccentric – always straight was my friend with me.
So, for this particular curry I have used chicken pieces, with skin left on the meat: legs, breasts, wings, bones and all, the lot, – you do get a better flavour when the skins are left on and by using the bones, but the fat content is greater. (will sort fat later). I’ve grated a few carrots, chopped onions, two green phkchoi –fresh- mushrooms, garlic shoots, a few garlic cloves, with also a few peas thrown into the dish, bulked out it goes a lot further, and the benefit is not just cost, but extra vitamins.
I lightly fry each of the vegetables separately, and add the individual herbs: Cumin, Cayenne Pepper, Garam Masala, a small pinch of Fennel, Star Anise, Cassia, Ginger, and a Clove. I haven’t a Bay Leave or I would have added that. I set the oven to 180 for around 30 minutes and turn in down to 1500 until cooked.
Normally, I add the spices one at a time: in this case, when I sauntered down the onions I used a little oil canola oil with garlic and added Garam Masala before adding them to the cooking pots. Did the same with the grated carrots, but used a little chilli power with a little Cayenne pepper.
I am rather fussy about eating chicken on the bone, weird I know, but that’s my quirk, so will remove the chicken off the bones when cooked, and discard the skins. Let it cool and remove any fat and re heat – add a few chopped tomatoes, a little tomato puree, the fresh green phkchoi, and set the dish to my palette before freezing.
I intended going out walking later afternoon, but it rains yet again – it is summer time here, so where is the sun? Will stay and read now until it’s time to pick up my grandson from nursery.
Just looked at my curry, it’s bubbling away nicely, smells very nice, I may have to strengthen with a few more extra herbs later.
I’m listening to Cat Stevens, “Moon Shadow” I like his songs. Also, wrote another 1000 words, so now I have only 4,000 to do over the weekend, (4.10), nearly time to fetch my grandson.
The room is filled with the aroma of herbs, just taken the curry out of the oven and will leave to cool before I commence the second stage.
Took my grandson home at 6.30 and stayed in for the rest of the night, was intending to read, but instead watched the television, in bed my 10.45pm.

(Saturday 5th of December) Woke at 8.15am, I am sleeping well, the weather this morning is cloudy and damp, looks as if there is going to be more rain. I had cornflakes with Greek yogurt for breakfast. And started work on my writing straight after.
I need to go into town later to get a few things and to re-heat my curry and late freeze it. (10.15) Weather has taken a turn for the better; birds are singing outside my window, the grey clouds are showing patches of blue sky, and it is warm outside. Will be attending my grandson’s Christmas party later, sometime this afternoon, will take a camera, it’ll be fun – now to town, will walk in, only walked 7,200 steps yesterday – still haven’t sourced out a gym.
(3pm) Just back from my grandson’s Christmas party and town, bought a real nice 1.5 Kg piece of pork (it’s quite inexpensive out here, chicken is far more expensive) will cook it tomorrow. I’m doing, Crumbly-Topped Spanish Pork, it’s really easy to prepare.:
A piece of pork boned, I’ll be leaving the skin on, and I'll place thin slices of garlic underneath
3 cloves of garlic cut into thin slivers
2 onions, chopped
Small grated carrot
3 sticks of celery, chopped
100 g: 4 oz of blanched almonds chopped
150 g: 6 oz of wholemeal breadcrumbs
2 eggs, beaten
Garnish with silver-beet roughly chopped.
If you want to know how to do it, let me know under comments, and I’ll give you the full instruction.
The starter is unusual: lean bacon cut in strips and wrapped round a small banana.
Season, and place under grill turning as needed until the bacon is sizzling, and serve immediately with an apple tangy sauce. This started is simple and really yummy.
Desert, a lemon cake, and apple crumble. Use the zest of two and juice lemons in the flour mix – if you need the full instructions let me know. The apple crumble I’m making with Granny Smith apples, cooking apples are not in season and are hard to come by, and expensive.

Also made a cottage pie with the last of the mince I bought a few days ago – I’ll eat some tonight and I’ll freeze the rest. Babysitting tonight – my grandson is staying with me all night. I have emailed my other grandson in the UK, I hope he has received it – I do miss him a lot, and my other one but he is too young to understand. I was intending to walk a lot today, but as they say: the best laid plans of men and mice... or something like that. Anyway,

I'll read now for a while until my grandson turns up to spend the time night.

(Sunday, 6th December) Up a 7am, weather cloudy, took a long time this morning to come to life, later, I did a few hours writing and then shopping. I spent the afternoon reading an Agatha Christie’s novel “Five Little Pigs.” Early evening my grandson turned up to spend the night, I play with him until it was his bedtime, and finished the Christie novel. I bed by 10 am. All in all ,a good day

(Monday 7th December) Up at 6.30, the time my grandson wakes, playing with him in the morning and afternoon and then did the cooking, my grandson helped, it was fun, but I needed to clean the floor afterwards. Seven for dinner, it went well, bed by 10pm, really tired, but I did finish my book by Christie’s “Five Little Pigs”

I can see how they say she in the master of the detective story. Reading another one now by the same author: “The Labours of Hercules,” twelve short stories about her famous detective, Hercule Poirot. In total, she wrote 80 novels, will read a lot more of her novels over the next few months. The poem in the front of the novel from "Labours Love..."made me smile. I will share it with you.
I’ve travelled the world twice over,
Met the famous: saints and sinners,
Poets and artists, kings and queens,
Old stars and hopeful beginners,
I’ve been where no-one’s been before,
Learned secrets from writers and cooks,
All with one library ticket
To the wonderful world of books.
By: Janice James

Next Log in a Few Days, thanks for taking to time to read, please leave comments.

Roy Tomkinson: New Zealand Log from 25th to the 30th of November 2009

2009-12-02T17:30:00.000-08:00

Second Log:

(25th November) Woke at just after six, lay for a bit and read until 7.30 and then I got up, don’t feel too good this morning, won’t give in to illness. Anyway, the weather is grand today, not a cloud in the sky. Well, only a small white one, the rest of the sky is a wonderful light blue.
Hopefully, later, I’ll fetch my table and chairs; will get Ryan (my son’s friend) to help. I’m not that good at lifting things.

Just had breakfast, Greek yogurt with wheat biscuit and skimmed milk followed by a cup of tea. Need to be careful what I eat, but I like the food anyway, never had a sweet tooth, so no problem, and (not it's early morning).
Afternoon I fetched my table, and a few other things, in fact, most of the things I need, couldn’t contact Ryan, and hope to sort everything by Friday evening. There is a major event in Taupo this weekend; a bike race around the lake so the town will be heaving – buskers, music, a festival. I’d like to have a go but don’t have a bicycle. Perhaps I’ll get one, wishful, thinking on my part perhaps, if only!
Took a walk into town, and later fetched my grandson from nursery school. Reading another novel by Patricia Finney, “Unicorn’s Blood,” based at the time of Elizabeth I: too early yet for me to comment, but I’m not that impressed with the first few chapters, but will keep with it. Ruth Rendell calls her, “The Le Carre of the 16th Century.” But I’m not convinced.
The weather is hot today, sun lotion and a cap needed to go outside.
(Evening) Watching the news; the weather back home is not a promising start to the winter - there is a lot of rain – weather not good - resulting in major floods, and I was sad to learn there has been fatalities with the floods in theUK.
Was hoping to spend a little time writing, but with everything going on, I just didn’t have the time, after I move into my house, then I will have more time. I was going out tonight, there are quite a few good pubs in the town, but last minute I decide against it, and watched a little television.

Perhaps I’ll go out tomorrow night; I’m more a morning person than a night one.
I still haven’t joined a gym, perhaps next week, also, they have a night class starting next Wednesday night on Maori language and culture, may join, could be fun -bed by 10.30.
Number of Steps walked per day.

(26th November) Up at 8pm, a quick breakfast and out in town, getting a few things I need and then back, lunch around 1.30 and read most of the afternoon. Later, I fetched my grandson from nursery school, and a little later, I signed the contract for my house.
The rate of rent is really good, a lot less to rent our here than in the UK – with summer starting, (first day of summer next Tuesday) there will be no heating bill, but I do have a log fire in the house, and if there is a chilly day or night will light it, but I doubt it. The heating I will save by not being back home for the winter will almost cover the rent cost: electricity, only need for cooking and light in the evening, so there is little cost there.
Almost finished the Elizabethan novel, better that I originally thought, not great, I do find some value from it. Oh yes, I found a little treasure of a cookbook, small paperback called, “Fresh Natural,” all vegetarian dishes from New Zealand, the recipes are brilliant, will be trying most of them over the coming weeks – will source only vegetables in season. I have a friend back home that used to love vegetarian dishes; some of these recipes would make her dance with delight: I know they do for me, I keep wondering...
Anyway, I will cook and invite some of the people who have befriended me to sample my cooking, already invited a few people to Sunday lunch, may decide to change it to the evening, haven’t made up my mind, as yet: will cook a leg of herbed lamb in tomato sauces with vegetables.
Babysitting tonight – my grandson goes to bed by 7pm: and will read for the rest of the night, and watch a little TV with a glass of red wine! MY PLAN?
As I cook, I will share my recipes with you on line, and let you know how they turn out. Late in bed tonight, 11.15, read a little before I nodded off to sleep.

(27th November) Up at 7am - breakfast: two wheat biscuits with a sliced banana with Greek yogurt over the top; the statuary two cups of tea to quench the thirst, and I am done. The weather is going to be hot today; the sky is a beautiful light blue. Still walking quite a lot every day, anything over 8,000 steps per day is classified as healthy. Each step is 24 inches.
They are not so politically correct out here than they are in the UK; the class distinction is simply just not there, and it’s rather refreshing to see people speak their mind without the worry of complaint. That suits me real fine: if you don’t like it, they just tell you to go home, but always, I find they are polite. I tend to be a bit brusque at times myself and pretty thick skinned, I'm a type of take me or leave me type of guy.
One guy, who owns a number houses suggest I go up the dump to furnish my house, telling me he does frequently himself: “There is some good stuff up there,” he says, but I don’t think I’ll go that far.

Quite a number of people go around with no shoes on their feet, I’ve notices many people shopping in bare feet and walking around the town, a normal occurrence.
The health service is excellent, but there is no National Health as in the UK, cover needs to be purchased via insurance. There is an effective emergency service and hospitalisation, which is statuary, with no cost to the individual, but that’s about it, the rest costs.
The mortality rate is higher than in the UK, but that may that is due to the fact, that the indigenous population seem to smoke and drink a lot of alcohol, and don’t seek medical help early due to the cost – a standard X-ray scan cost around $300. There is still an element of poverty, but that also exists in the UK: I must say, I haven’t seen any personally, everyone I meet seems to be relatively well off, and most don’t smoke, but do enjoy a few beers, my tipple of indulgence is wine. The time now is 10.11am; will shortly be going down to see my house, I had the key last night, and I will get the electricity sorted and do a shop for food – I’m feeling rather excited about it all.
Afternoon, 2.10pm, just arrive back, been to see the house, looks swell now it’s been cleaned, nice area as well. There is a super fridge, a double bed, a single one, with plenty of cupboards; it will do me fine.
I walked into town. Met a woman who was originally from Cardiff, been in Taupo for 32 years, and we had a little chinwag. Now out to do a food shop, will take the car, Oh yes, found an Aria shop, spices galore, will defiantly shop there, Taupo is bouncing with interesting shops – what a place.

I had a Caesar Chicken Salad with Anchovies for lunch – on the lakeside restaurant - there are quite a few there, glad I went there, it was delicious, and I mean delicious. I will definitely pay a visit back there sometime. Will have a little rest now, feet are aching, walked a lot this morning, and then back out in the open: later I'll be picking my grandson up from school.

Spent the evening reading a novel, and the daily paper, but did watch the finals of Master Chef Australia; it was really good – a glass of wine and in bed my 11pm.

(28th November) The weather forecast yesterday said it would be overcast with rain later, and true to forecast, that is exactly how it is, no blue this morning, white clouds cover the sky, so rain this afternoon looks on the cards, and it’s the day of the bicycle race around the lake. I didn’t go shopping yesterday as planned, so need to shop today, the town will be packed, have notices some of the prices have increase, only to be expected, make money when the sun (it this case clouds) are out.
I have discover a delicious bread, eaten it for the last few days, it’s quite expensive $4.80 a large loaf, but its low calorie and made of “Soy and Linseed Oil.” Slightly grained, but the taste, well, that is something else.
Been collecting plastic tubs the last few days, need them to put food in, I will cook over the next few days to freeze. I’m looking forward to doing a good day’s cooking next week.
Time is 15.20pm been into town, bought a load of food, will cook tomorrow, the town is packed, may go out later. Weather a little cloudy with quite a wind; rain is in the air, just lit my log fire, the house sorted, everything is now in place and I can settle in and start to write in earnest, but will not be killing myself with writing, thee are other thinks I intend to do. The house smells of herbs, flesh basic, mint, rosemary: if you wet the leaves and give them a shake, the aroma fills the room.

(29th November) 6.30am, weather cloudy, I think it’s been raining a little in the night. Did go out last night into Taupo, from my house it takes about 15 minutes. I was expecting the town to be a lot fuller, don’t get me wrong, there were quite a few people out, most bars were quite full, and I talked with a few people, but after the bicycle race many were whacked out I expect, and I was home by eleven. It’ll be a while before I go again – night-time into town - but it was an experience.
Just lit the log fire this morning, the smell of burning wood combined with the herbs, well, basil and mint, the rest I have chopped up and are marinating in oil in the fridge.
Where I am it is very quiet, the river is less than a minute walk away, the birds woke me as it got light, it must be their time for courting, if not,, the time just after courting when the quarrelling begins.
Anyway, it’s pleasant to listen to, will start to cook later, have four for dinner tonight, but now will read for a few hours. Just about finished the novel by, Patricia Finney, could have sooner, but for the last three days, I’ve bought and read their financial and business papers to get an angle on what’s going on in the country, and the main news, the quality papers are really good, but it takes quite a while to read them.
I’ve notices a number of people wearing white ribbons in their lapel, and notices a load of different posters displaced in shop windows, saying:

“A woman needs a man who understands.”

“Take a step back and smile.”

“To understand is to love.”

“Warms and love it not violent.”

Plus many other posters saying very much the same thing, in white backgrounds with the words in thick black letters; I can’t remember what all of them say. When I enquired what they meant: it’s a stand against violence in the home, it’s also in the papers and on the television, a person should not use violence against his or her partner or children, or abuse of any sort.
I’ve always believed you shouldn’t, it’s an abhorrent way to behave, but there you are, it takes all sort... I don’t suppose it’s any better in the UK, but it gets a higher profile out here. I say, good on them – their policy is show and shame, but even in today’s world of equality and liberation, women and children are no match for a violent man, you normally find people who perpetuate that type of behaviour are cowards themselves when it comes down to it. Or, are from abusive background, and New Zealand’s policy is to nip it in the bud and not let it transcend to the next generation by creating awareness in children that it is wrong, a good policy indeed.
Another thing I’ve notices, that most of the men display some sort of beard. It didn’t dawn on me at first, I’m not particularly good at shaving myself, I have a habit of cutting myself and using toilet paper stuck to my face to stem the blood, stupid really, but there you are, that’s me – take or leave.
Anyway, every November most men grow a beard and it’s called: “Movember Month,” which is a charity for men’s health, all beads and moustaches are sponsored, many by family, and the donations are towards the charity. I suspect many women don’t kiss their partners over that time, I’ve heard a few comments from women: “I’ll be glad when he has a clean face.” But I like the motive, apparently, men, in the UK as well, are notorious when it comes to getting medical checkups, and looking towards their health, and because of the campaign, the pressure is on them to go and get themselves checked out, don’t I will know it myself, the importance of medical chech ups.
I’m writing this listening to Vivaldi, “Four Seasons, and will then listen to Bonnie Tyler, she has a really strong voice, the time now is 8.34 in the morning and, the clouds are starting to clear, it may yet turn into a sunny day. She is singing the Song “Heart Ache” and it reminds me... yes, it reminds me... you can’ help feeling nostalgic, and her next song, “You don’t know what it’s like to love SOMEBODY.” Another song by another artist also comes into my mind, “Lady in Red,” sung by Christ de Burg. What a song: it holds a poignant memory for me.
Will take a walk into town, mooch a little, and then start to cook the evening meal. Just had a text, there'll be another two for dinner, six now, so cooking for seven tonight, will text them and tell them to bring their own plates. I have been given a phone, spend $30 on buying a card and there you go, local calls are free, and so are texts.
To walk to town and back is 5,800 steps, so it doesn’t take long. My guests have just left, good conversation, I eventually settled on four courses. The first two are what I stated earlier, but I changed the third course, I did Pavlov with strawberries and cream with a fruit of the forest covering with ice cream and a biscuit snap.
The fourth course being cheese and biscuits, they bought wine, I really enjoyed myself, I played music from my laptop, I have thousands of tracks, listening to Eric Clapton as I write this part of my log, everyone has now gone, and I am now ready for bed. The time is nearly 11pm – I had to wash the plates etc between courses.
I placed a bouquet of fresh basil on the table for the first course, gave them a scissors, and told them to help themselves and cut a few leaves to go into their soup – that went down well. I’ll have one more glass of wine and then it’s off the bed. It turned out be a gorgeous day after all – this weather is strange.

(Monday Morning 30th November) I slept like a log, woke at 8.15, I feel a little stiff this morning – a rocket up the bottom comes to mind, my back hurts and I find it difficult to walk straight, a few exercises should do it. I intend to start to write later, the weather is a little cloudy but it looks to be warm later, placed my recycling bin out for collection. I will have muesli with a banana for breakfast.
The first 2000 words of my next manuscript is now complete, and been into town, the weather didn’t turn out sunny after, it is raining with heavy clouds, the weaher looks to be in all day.
No matter, will throw a few logs on the fire and will be in for the rest of the day and night (time is 1.45pm), bought a coffee plunger, and a little toaster, and guess what? I called in one of the charity shops to buy a few more drinking glasses and a few small plates. It looks I’ll be cooking quite a lot, and they were giving away free bread – to purchase would be about $5, and the woman said they get in often, but won’t take advantage, it’s a bit of a game to me, others need it far more. The walk into town was OK in spite of the rain, walking in the rain I enjoy, despite the fact I have a car outside the door lent to me by my son, he has two cars, so it’s no hassle to him to do without one.
Found another gem of a cookbook written in 1980 called Good Housekeeping, “Book of Wholefood Cookery,” by Gail Duff. Will spend a pleasant hour looking over it, after I make myself lunch, beans with a bread roll, and I purchased a large bar of chocolate (Yum! Yum!). Listening now to Irish music.

I have purchased Fair-trade coffee: Here goes, the lesson - the perfect cup of coffee: first warm the plunger, second in goes the coffee, one spoonful per cup, leave to ferment of 5 full minutes before the plunger is depressed, and whacko! You have the perfect cup of coffee. I drink my coffee raw, without milk or sugar, sipping it now together with a cookie; both are yummy!
The food book I’m reading by Gail Duff on wholemeal verses ordinary white flour is most interesting. When I buy or make bread in the future it will be wholemeal from now on (mostly) – and this book was written in 1980, long before the present pressure of diet and nutritious foods, and with the trend against refined and processed foods.
If we feel hungry, and we eat chocolate or a slice of white processed bread, the energy is quickly absorbed and stored by our bodies. Within an hour we are hungry again, we repeat the process and we become fat – a bad call if taken to excess.
If we eat unrefined foods, fruit or fibre for example, they will be more bulky in the stomach and the energy they give off will be absorbed a lot slower. It is lack of fibre in our diet that is the cause of many of our Western diseases, particularly those associated with the digestive system.
One of the products that suffer most from refinement is flour. All type of flour have the same beginning: a simple whole grain of tiny wheat, but its makeup is exceptionally complex, and is made up of three parts.

1. the outer coating is called the bran, which represents 8% of the grain.
2. the tiny growing point is called the germ, and represents 2% of the grain.
3. the white centre: the endosperm consists mostly of starch and represents 90% of the grain.

The bran provides the fibre, the germ, the protein and vitamin E. Wholemeal means the whole grain is ground up into flour – the total unprocessed product without separation. The result is 100% wholemeal flour consisting of all the endosperms, bran and germ – the essential fibre and nutrients in the right proportions. This type of flour is the healthiest.

Next Log will be in a few days, please let me have your comments.

Roy Tomkinson: Daily Log: New Zealand

2009-11-23T17:33:00.000-08:00

After visiting Saint David’s in Wales, a few days later, I travelled to New Zealand.

These notes are unedited, so please forgive any errors, and if you can't tough! Frankly, I don't care, Ta!

The plane left Heathrow Airport at 10am on the 12th of November (Thursday) and after a brief stop in Dubai, Brunei, Brisbane: I arrive in Auckland 4am on Saturday morning. Four hours later, I was in Taupo, which is 1,250 feet above sea level, the lake resides inside an ancient volcano, and filled with brown and rainbow trout.
The surrounding area is still volcanically active with numerous hot water springs, some so warm that the water will burn your skin. The size of the lake is 616 square kilometres (238 square miles): 186 metres (610 feet) at its deepest point, and feeds the Waikato River.

(14th of November) After a brief rest, I was out in the town exploring. By the evening, I was whacked and in bed by 8.30pm, and slept until 8 the following morning. The time difference is 13 hours in front of the UK.

(15th November) Sunday: After breakfast, I walked along the lake near Taupo town, the weather was windy, rain, light, but that didn’t matter to me. I walk in all weathers. I stopped and talked with several different people and then walked up the Waikato River to the Huka Falls. The crystal water flowing out from Lake Taupo - 62 thousand gallons every second - thunders down the pass towards the sea. What a spectacular sight!
The lake is huge: nearly the size of Singapore, the surrounding scenery is fantastic. Mountains topped with snow in the distance can be seen across the water, trees everywhere, the whole area looks so fresh and clean.
The afternoon I spent in Taupo Library, I intend to study the history of the lake and write about it. I’ll be spending a lot of time there in study over the coming weeks. Maori traditions and stories are quite spectacular: I will write my next novel in this country, and spend the next few weeks collating ideas for the story. The topography reminds me of Wales, especially Pembrokeshire, around Saint David’s City, the smallest city in Wales. (A friend of mine once said I should write about Wales and will link the two countries). Then, I walked to the Wairakei Park and back to Taupo where I am staying, a pleasant day, a few glasses of wine, a light meal, and in bed by 10am.

(16th November) The following day I walked to a Hot Water Stream, there are many around New Zealand. I spent a pleasant hour bathing in the warm volcanic waters, which gushes force out of the mountainside and into the Waikato River, where its warmth is soon lost as it mixes with the cold water of the fast flowing river, as it ambles, and often thunders towards the sea. It was fun; fetched my grandson from school today for the first time.

(17th November) There is such a lot to do, a lot to see, many people to meet, and I intend to take in the rich diversity of this wonderful country before I settle in a corner and start to write. The open countryside is magical, high mountains, forests, cold and hot water streams; I will write about my experiences in this blog over the coming weeks, and describe my feelings and thoughts as I travel through this, my life journey. The weather today has been atrocious, rain, and more rain, but I still walked, nothing will stop me walking and exploring the country, rain or shine I’m out of doors.

IT IS LATE SPRING NOW IN NEW ZEALAND, THE NORTH ISLAND IS SEMI TROPICAL WITH SUMMER JUST AROUND THE CORNER: I INTEND TO WALK AND WALK, TAKE PICTURES, WHICH I WILL SHARE WITH YOU over the coming weeks, and of course, to write. One of the reasons I am here, besides, visiting my son and his wife and my grandson, who is a delight to be with, and whom I am getting to know – the experience is wonderful, spending time with him is so important to me. Fetching him from nursery school is a real true joy, and makes me feel proud as he walks home with me, all the while asking for cuddles, which I gave him, but I still make him walk.

(18th November) What a day, it rained all day, after breakfast went out and walked around the lake. I have my wet water gear on, so it made little difference to me, as I walked around the lake, the wind blew, the rain sheeted, and it was fun. Met a man out with his dog, thought I was nuts to walk in the rain, he had the excuse he needed to walk his dog, I had no excuse, but I didn’t care, and we laughed together.

There are some nice houses around the lake, don’t know how much they cost, but they look expensive. Rotary is strong out here and sponsors a lot of environmental projects, if I have time I’ll attend a few meeting and get to know them, but I can’t see me having the time, when I settle to write - that is it – my time is already spent, most of my day will be taken up: anyway, I will see.
It is easy to get to know people out here, must try to remember their names – not very good remembering names, but they seem to remember mine - bed by 10pm.

(19th November) Up at 8pm, the sky cloudy, but it was fine. Left at 10pm to walk, decided to walk to the Aratiatia Dam, walked along the Waikato River, past the Huka Falls where the 100-metre wide 4-metre deep water, funnels into a 15-metre wide gap and the depth increases to 10 metres, water temperature ranges from 25C summer, to 10.5C in winter. The Dam and the river provide the North Island with 65% of its total energy requirements.
The sun soon came out and the weather turned really hot, the clouds melted and the sky turned blue. Walked for hours, the Dam was quite a way, and walked it total more than 14 miles, arrived back in Taupo at 6pm, tired but happy. The Dam is worth a visit, especially seeing the sluice gates being opened, birds abound, wildlife, everywhere. I felt as one with the environment.
At the Dam when I was eating lunch, talked to a number of people who were all from the Zip club. When I asked what it meant: told, all the member had open heart surgery, and the Zip, represented being cut open – novel you must admit. You meet all types of people when you walk.
A few beers, a takeaway Chinese meal, and in bed by 10pm, really tired, feet on fire with the tramping, but happy, walking in the country is really good, but need to be careful of the sun, it is hot, very hot, and will get hotter as the weeks go by.

(20th November) After yesterday, I did not intend to walk a lot today, up around 8pm, breakfasted and left to walk around town, took the long way along the Waikato River, past Cherry Tree Island, called into the museum, intended to spend a few hours at the library, but after spending a few hours at the museum didn’t have the time. This country is growing on me with every passing day.
The evening saw five of us at a Thai restaurant, friends are easy to make out here, the food was really good and then on to a party. Stayed only an hour, feeling tired, and then back to where I’m staying, a few beers, a read – just finished a novel I had from the library, by Sharon Penman, “Cruel as the Grave,” medieval history, and then to bed by 10am.

(21st November) Up at 8.30am - read until 9.30am, and then I went to look at a house that was for rent. The people were moving our next Tuesday, a semi near Cherry Tree Island, just outside Taupo, a stone’s throw away from the town, I knew immediately I would take it, but told the owner that I need to sleep on it first, this is a little quirk of mine – I sleep on any decision. The house is near the River Waikato, this is some river, I know I have mentioned it several times, but it really is grand and will be spending a lot of time walking its banks. I like to be close to nature, when I walk, ideas of what to write comes flooding out from my mind. Always, I have a pen and paper at the ready and write my thoughts down.
The house is unfurnished, but that is not a problem, I have a bed, cooker and fridge, the owner said he could get them for me, he was the person whose barbecue in attended the day before. As for the rest of the things I need, there are a few charity shops in town, and will search them and get what I want – with a little bartering, I will pick everything I need without paying out a lot.
I intend to stay until my next manuscript is complete, which will be around the end of March next year. I know the plot, but need to flesh out my plan a little more and then start to write, end of next week should see me complete that, and then the writing will begin. By then, I should have the freezer full with food, will cook a load and freeze in large batches, saves a lot of money that way – on a tight budget.
I will be moving into the house next Saturday, and need a table by then, and a chair on which to write. It is fun trying to furnish a house as cheaply as possible for only a few months, and then I’ll give them to the charity shops, I do so enjoy bartering.
My plan is straightforward, to be up around 7am, walk for a few hours, around the river and lake, and of course the forests, and spend the rest of the day writing, evening will be for reading, not much for TV, intend to read three different authors every week, ones I am not familiar with. Nearly finished my second by Robert Harris “The Ghost:” A sentence from that books sticks in my mind when referring to America: “New England is basically Old England on steroids – wider roads, bigger woods, larger spaces, even the sky seemed huge and glossy.”
I’ll be spending quite a lot of time in the library, already talked with the Librarian, and suggested I give a talk about my work – there was definite interest – also, may contact Rotary and give a talk at one of their meetings. Moreover, my son and family lives in Taupo, and I will spend time with my grandson, who is important to me, very much so, we are getting to know each other. He is brilliant to be with, but I do miss my other grandchildren back in Wales, I have such a close relationship with them, and my other children, but I keep in contact with them by email and messenger.
Planning my time, to make the most of it: As I said earlier, up at 7am, walk until around 10am – something I will get up and 6am and use the morning for writing, and, later, walk over to my grandson and spend a few hours with him before the goes to bed, also learning a few Maori words.
Furthermore, he will be spending a few nights a week with me and I will take and fetch him from school – life is good – I really do like this country. It reminds me of Wales in Panoramic View: in bed my 9.45pm. Sometime I intend to join a gym, there are a few around, and there is a local swimming pool, which I intend to use.

(22nd November) Weather overcast today, stayed in my room, and guess what! I started to write my next novel, up at 8am, read until 11.30, opened my laptop and started to write. It is now almost 3pm in the afternoon, and I have done my first 1000 words. I wasn’t intending to write until next week, but here I am, feeling good, will now spend some time with my grandson and the evening reading – can’t see me walking a lot today. Fetched my grandson from nursery school.
Spent the evening reading, stayed in most of the day, (didn’t walk at all, needed the rest) reading another novel, an American Author, they do so skip on the grammar, by Mary Higgins Clark, “While my Pretty one Sleeps.” The plot is good, next, will read her other novel “Loves Music, Loves to Dance.” Tomorrow, I will go down the Library and mooch the town for what I need.

(23rd November) up at 7am: breakfast and out for a walk, around town and down to the library, they are definitely interested in me giving a talk, could be a few, will see, hopefully they’ll order my books. The afternoon looked around the charity shops – interesting.
I had an email today, there is interest in placing my novels on kindle, e-books with Amazon, haven’t as yet studied the details, will do so tomorrow, need to sleep on it, already there are half a million books to down load from Amazon. Will get a kindle, been meaning to for a while, they are around $400. But things are moving a pace.
Found a book at the library, read it until late last night and will finish it tomorrow morning, it is not often that a book influences me as much as this one did: The author is Diana Athill “Somewhere Towards The End,” her biography, Winner of the Cost Biography Award 2008; she was born in 1917.
Life is strange, and yet it has great meaning to her; her story moved me to the quick of my being, there is meaning in every word she uses: what’s it like to grow old. Her sexuality, her innermost thoughts and feeling are all placed to paper. Her soul she lays bare.
It is quite a short book, but long will it remain inside my psyche – until I die: I recommend, if you can get a copy to read it, her candour and economic prose on religion, regrets, and sex are invigorating.
There is so much I could say about this book, but will let her voice talk by using a few quotes from her book. I hope she doesn’t mind, I will write to her and tell her in any event – I would dearly like to spend a few hours in her company and listen to what she has to say about life.

(24th November) Just finished her book this morning. She writes about sex and women, and how women see it differently from men, despite what the new modern woman says about being liberated.
Her words:
“Sex obliterates the individuality of a young woman more often that it does that of a young man, because so much more of a woman than a man is used by sex. I have tried to believe that most of this difference comes from conditioning, but can’t do so. Conditioning reinforces it, but essentially it is a matter of biological functioning. There is no physical reason why a man shouldn’t turn and walk away from any act of sex he performs, whereas every act of sex performed by a woman has the potential of changing her mode of being for the rest of her life. He simply triggers the existence of another human being; she has to build it out of her own physical substance, carry it inside her, bond with it whether she likes it or not – and to say that she has been freed from this by the pill is nonsense.”

What I think she is saying is, I don’t mould man and woman together as a homogeneity, there are differences that should be recognised and will always be there.
Again, she was never much of gardener in early life, but look how her attitude has changed in old age – she worked up until she was seventy five of age before she finally retired:

“Getting one’s hand into the earth, spreading roots, making plant comfortable – it is a totally absorbing occupation, like painting or writing, so that you become what you are doing and are given a wonderful release from consciousness of self.”

I can relate to these feelings. But her most poignant thoughts come from a poem, about her mother, who died in the nineties when she herself was in her seventies, and she entitled it “The Gift.”

THE GIFT (by Diana Athill)

It took my mother two days to die, the first of them cruel
as her body, ninety-five years old, crushed beyond repair.
I found her, “an emergency” behind screens in a crowned ward,
jaw dropped, tongue lolling, eyes unseeing.
Unconscious? No. When about to vomit she gasped “Basin!”
She was aware of what she was having to endure.

I put my hand on hers. Her hand shifted, eyelids heaved up.
Her eyes focused.
Out of the deep in that dying woman came a great flash
of recognition and of upmost joy.

My brother was there. Later he said,
“That was a very beautiful smile she gave you.”
It was the love I had never doubted flaming into visibility.
I saw what I had always believed in.

Next morning; quietness, sleep,
intervals of murmured talk.
“She is better!”
“She s feeling much better, said the kind nurse,
“but she is still very ill.”
I understood the warning and that what seemed miracle was morphine.

What did I feel? Like Siamese twins, one wanting her never to
die.
The other dismayed at the thought of renewed life,
of having to go on dreading pain for her, go on foreseeing
her increasing helplessness and my guilt
at not giving up my life to be with her all the time.
What I felt was bad at being in two minds but only for a while,
because
perched in my skull above this conflict there was a referee
saying, “Neither of you can win so shut up
and get on with doing whatever comes next.

Her collapsed body eased, she was disconcerting to be with
because so alive.

On the edge of ceasing to exist
there she was, herself, tired but perfectly ordinary,
telling me what to do with her dog and where to find her will.
When my cousin protested “But you’ll soon be back home” she
was cross.
“Don’t be absurd,” she said, “I could go any minute.”

Then, after a long sleep, she turned her head a little and said,
“Did I tell you that last week Jack drove me
to the nursery garden, to buy that eucalyptus?”
I too loved that garden and the drive through country
we had both known all our lives.
“You told me he was going to,” I said. “Was it fun?”

She answered drearily – her last words before sleeping again
out of which sleep she didn’t wake:
“It was absolutely divine.”

This poem says it all, better than ever I could. A remarkable woman indeed!
And:
“Life is beautiful, extremely beautiful. And when you are old you think, you remember, you care and you appreciate. You are thankful for everything. For everything... I know about bad, but I look only for the good.”

"...I can look back and see that although a human life is less that the blink of an eyelid in terms of the universe, within its own framework it is amazingly capacious so that it can contain many opposites. One life can contain serenity and tumult, heartbreak and happiness, coldness and warmth, grabbing and giving..."

What a wonderful, woman, I thing you will agree.

Later that day, I went to a charity shop, Salvation Army, bought a table, three chairs, a glass dish, and the most important, a tea pot – I now need a kettle. I am moving in my own house next Saturday - rented - will settle in and write, need to make progress on the manuscript I have just started, will write 10,000 a week, 2,000 words per day. Now, I'm reading another novel, in bed by 10pm - good night!

Daily number of steps I walk.
NOVEMBER
14th 21,000
15th 22,700
16th 15,500
17th 17,500
18th 26,000
19th 37,000
20th 27,500
21st 14,800
22st 1,700
23rd 14,000

24th 15,500

A new post will be coming shortly

Roy Tomkinson: Look At the Person.

2009-11-10T05:57:00.001-08:00

I was talking to a young lady yesterday, I say a young lady, a teenager would be more nearer the mark, and despite her illness, she was smiling all the time. I stopped, said hello, and sat on a bench next to her.

"You are the first to talk with me in over an hour. Everyone who passed pretended not to see me."

"I stopped because you look so happy. Why so happy," I said.

"I'm alive, that is happiness in itself."

"Yes but..." I thought, think Roy, think, before you reply. Quite novel for me really, normally my mouth gets the better of me. "But I mean..."

"Say it," she smiled.

"Say what?" I was on the defensive.

"How can I smile and be happy when I can't walk or use my hands."

"I... I..." My tongue couldn't move in my mouth.

"It's alright, I understand."

This person was apologising to me, for my deficiency. I was looking at her affliction and not at the person. She could see it in my eyes, frequently it must have happened to her, and she thought it funny.

"I look terrible, my face is not right, I can't more; my eyes are off the scale."

I took a deep breath. "No! No... you look... please, I didn't mean to offend, I think you look, well alright."

She gave a sweet laugh. "No I don't, please don't lie to me, I couldn't face it myself after my accident, used to cry all the time, but I am what I am, and have now accepted myself: I am me to me; you are you to you, and you are troubled and lonely: inside I shine, so must you. Look through me into my heart, I am but a person like you. You must write - Roy."

"I know that," I said light-heartedly. "How did you know I write and my name?" I gasped, feeling very uncomfortable. I hadn't written anything meaningful for nearly a year. This teenager had the measure of me, made me feel glad I stopped to talk, and yet I felt somewhat afraid. I stayed and talked with her for a few hours, and when it was time to go I wanted to stay.

"It's late, you have been here hours."

"Doesn't seem that long," I replied.

"Tell me, why did you stay so long and talk with me?"

"Alright, alright, I will come clean. When I saw you first, I felt sorry for you, and stayed to talk, perhaps to make me feel good not you, a good turn and all that...

She smiled a wonderful smile. "And now?"

"Not so. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, I have grown a lot in sense over the last few hours. And I will write."

"Now what do you see?" she casually asked.

"What I should have seen at the beginning, a remarkable person, you are remarkable."

"No not remarkable, just like you."

"No not like me, better than me... please, let me finish. I saw a cripple first, now I realise the cripple was me and not you, a cripple of the mind, thank you for opening my eyes. Could I please write to you, and call you my friend?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes, if you have the time, I would like that very much. I see why you smile all the time, inside you are an angel, your email!"

"Tomorrow, come back tomorrow. I will meet you be that church over there."

"There!" I pointed.

She nodded. "I am always in the ether."

I left, and returned the next day to the park, walked over to the church, but she was not there. Come to think of it: where were her attendants when I was talking to her? She was alone and yet she could not walk or use her hands. It never dawned on me until that moment.

I stayed by the church for over an hour, but she didn't show, eventually I went into the church, and sat at the back, wondering where she was, somehow I knew as we parted, she wouldn't show. This was a one off meeting, the word she used yesterday came into my mind - ether - (I live in air) perhaps she was an angel?

Anyway, I am now back writing, and I didn't even catch her name, yet she knew mine and my profession. Weird don't you think? Perhaps it was meant to be, who know? I don't!

Reflections, Roy Tomkinson

2009-09-10T03:24:00.000-07:00

Reflections on George Orwell

I would like to share with you an essay, it’s less than 2000 words long, yet, when I first read it its effect on me was quite startling, and the feeling has stayed with me, despite having read this essay many times over the years.
The author is well know:George Orwell, his better known novels are:Nineteen Eighty Four,Animal FarmDown and Out in Paris and LondonThe Road to Wigan PierAnd quite a few more.

He was a man tortured by his upbringing, a rebel in many ways; he fought against Fascism in the Spanish Civil War and became disillusioned with mankind in the relentless pursuit of war.

His one constant in all this mayhem is that he was always against the Totalitarian State.

If you get a chance read some of his Essays.

They are a treasure trove into his mind. But today, I wish to share only one of his essays with you, which as I said earlier, had a profound effect upon me:

Reflections by Roy Tomkinson from, A Hanging, an essay by George Orwell

Orwell as a Police Officer in Burma: “sodden morning of the rains. A sickly light, like yellow tinfoil… We were waiting outside the condemned cells…”You are taken straight in, the scene is set for a hanging. Already, in this first paragraph you can feel death’s icy grip.

“Six tall Indian wardens were guarding him…” the condemned. Two held guns with bayonets fixed. Already, you feel his plight is hopeless as they, “close about him.

”The impatient Superintendent, wished to get it over with so he can have his breakfast.To him, it is just another day at the office, hang a few and then breakfast, an ordinary day. Quicker the better, no compassion, remorse, nothing, but hurry up, we can’t delay breakfast.A dog appears in the yards, happy, wagging his tail and jumps and tried to lick the prisoner’s face.And the Superintendent, well, he’s annoyed, this dog – how dare it delay his breakfast.Suddenly, the realisation with Orwell sets in:“It is curious, but till that moment I had never realized what it means to destroy a healthy, conscious man.

When I saw the prisoner step aside to avoid the puddle I saw the mystery, the unspeakable wrongness, of cutting a life short when it is in full tide.”Then a picture of the gallows floods into your mind, erected in a small yard overgrown with weeds.The prisoner was “half pushed… clumsily up the ladder.” And a rope placed around his neck. The prisoner cried out: Ram! Ram! Ram! Ram! Not urgent and fearful like a prayer or cry for help… rhythmical, almost like the tolling of a bell.

”The dog replied.Barked.Minutes passed.Blank faces.A clanging noise.“Chalo!” Shouted the Superintendent.Silence.Prisoner gone.Rope twisting.The dog was let loose: “it galloped…to the back of the gallows… stopped… barked, and then retreated into a corner… looking timorously out at us.”The Superintendent poked the body with a stick.“He’s all right… Eight minutes past eight. Well, that’s all for this morning…”An enormous relief came over everyone.“One felt an impulse to sing, to break into a run, to snigger.

All at once everyone began chattering gaily.”Now it was time to eat.The comment:“Do you know, sir, our friend (he meant the dead man) when he heard his appeal had been dismissed, he pissed on the floor of his cell. From fright. Kindly take one of my cigarettes, sir. Do you not admire my new silver case, sir?”Fright, cigarettes, a silver case: What is happening here? How the extraordinary is made to feel ordinary."Several people laughed… I found that I was laughing quite loudly.

Everyone was laughing.”How forced death can be so trivialised, see it enough in its raw state, and yes, I suppose it does become ordinary. I think the German concentration camps proved that. You become anaesthetised, and it ceases to even seem wrong. Indeed, it even grows into a kind of rightness. Somehow, you seem to wriggle out of its reality.And then what did they do?“We all had a drink together, native and European alike, quite amicably. The dead man was a hundred yards away.
Read the full essay yourself here is the link:

http://www.vidyaonline.net/arvindgupta/orwellburma.pdf

Rainbow From the Novel The Tour by Roy Tomkinson

2009-07-31T11:46:00.000-07:00

RAINBOW OVER MULL, SCOTLAND

"The scene looked like something out of a fairy tale, unnatural granted, but there was also a sense of beauty as it reflected off the sea, and rebounded back at the clouds. A haze shimmered over the water giving it a feeling of tranquillity, and of well-being as a number of rainbows crossed from one end of the shimmer to the other.

...the spectacle plying its beauty over the sea - the harbour front, the seats, the sea, the stage. The rainbows, the brightly coloured costumes, the shimmering movement above the water, the players acting their many parts with pageantry, poise, and grace as they danced to nature's tune."
page 267/268, from "The Tour" by Roy Tomkinson

2009-07-31T11:43:00.000-07:00

Pyramid Peeks, by Flickr

WELSH MOUNTAINS

Notice the Reflections in the water.
Wow!

The Vatican and Oscar Wilde Reconciled

2009-07-18T08:06:00.000-07:00

A Man Born Before His Time

There are three videos to watch with this blog, but before listening to them read the complete article first including the story of "The Happpy Prince"

Oscar Wilde – Victorians labelled him a decedent amoral, a dandy of the worse kind, a homosexual pervert – a corrupter of Victoria values, when it was seen as rather daring for “gentle folk” to leave the legs of a table uncovered.
Condemned by the Vatican, to which he turned in his darkest hours, he converted to Catholicism two days before his death in a Paris hotel bed in 1900, aged 46, after serving two years in a prison, which he served in Reading jail for acts of gross indecency. He was a blatant homosexual, had numerous affairs with men, despite being married with two children, but upon his release, he left the shores of Britain and he never returned to what was to him a country filled with degenerate duplicity.
Wilde was no angel, flamboyant, full of his own importance, a satirist, smoked, drank, had all the vices of a modern day immoralist, and well capable of corrupting the innocent, (so are most of us) a true bombast of his generation, who says:

I can resist anything but temptation.”
He had truly been one of the great personalities of the 19th century, who scrutinized and evaluated what he saw, and catalogued the fractures and optimism of Victorian Society. Its straight laced attitude to sex: there were more brothels around then than there are now, and the endemic exploitation of children, through his numerous witticisms.
Warts and all, it came out in his writing, he poked fun at the aristocracy, the philanthropist, who had never known what it was like to go without a meal, and society’s absurdly double standard when it came to class and convention in high society.

In a shell, he attacked poverty and unfairness in society, and satirised the people who perpetuated inequality, and questioned the sincerity of the Seraphical hierarchy, to own and keep society’s resources, a cardinal sin in Victorian Society where industrial Capitalism reigned supreme.
An example in point are the three quotes below:

“A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.”
“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”
“Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live.”

You might think from what I write, I disapprove of his personality, far from it, he is one of my heroes, a writer of genius, far in advance of his time, who removed the distorted glass by which the Victorians interpreted the world, and showed the hypocrisy by which they lived.
Of course, they, the establishment, couldn’t allow that to go unchallenged, and for his view of life, he paid the price, and died a broken man, but his writing lives. A complex character: that I will admit, but not in the least shallow, as some have labelled him.
He used his writing for a purpose, his journey was one of discovery – his own – his quest for God - the universe - the way life itself should be lived, the injustice of wealth – mass poverty. His personality is there in his writing for everyone to read. Wilde was always → looking → looking → looking → and only found what he sought upon his deathbed, and for that, I am sad for him to have found it so late in his life.
He believed:

"The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for.”

That meant to not hide your sexuality – to be honest, clear and clean with yourself, and towards others, he was for living, (In that Wilde sparkled) - homosexuality, heterosexuality, lesbianism, black, white, skin, straight eyes, slanted eyes, it mattered little to Wilde, and thank goodness society has somewhat caught up with his way of thinking, but it still has a long way to go.
So what was he looking for? In the “L’Osservatore Romano,” the mouthpiece of Pope Benedict XVI, Wilde is described as a man who was, “looking for the beautiful and the good... for God.” And believed there was little value in money, other than for use in the relief of poverty. If it wasn’t shared around, to Wilde, it was money wasted. No man, not matter how wealthy, was, “rich enough to buy back his past."
He lived in the moment, for the moment, a man in the immediate, but he learned from yesterday, and planned for tomorrow. Through his writing, he showed the way he wished society to go, as I said, a man advanced for his time.
The values he held upon his journey throughout life: I will sum up in one of his short stories, the story says it all – far, far better than I could ever describe his personality. The values, beliefs, quest for fairness, greed, hypocrisy, which he saw systemic in Victorian Society, he pushes forward into your face, and he places you up there on the pedestal with the “Happy Prince” and forces you to look down at the world as it actually is, and not through a distorted mirror of unreality.
In life, the Happy Prince was a Machiavellian, "When I was alive... I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter... I played... danced... but I never cared to ask what lay behond it, everything to me was so beautiful... So I lived and so I died."

Wilde takes us behond the Palace walls, into the street and down into the drains of humanity to let the water from above flow over us. Death turned The Happy Prince into a saint: please, read and listen to the words - more than once if need be, they really do have music in them:

“Swallow, Swallow, little swallow... will you not stay with me for one night... ? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad."

As “L’Osservatore Romano” further stated: “Oscar Wilde was a man constantly looking for a God that he never challenged, a God he respected, and whom he fully embraced after his dramatic experience of jail.”
I believe he found his NIRVANA – alone, when on his death bed – a poignant reminder of what awaits us all, wealthy and poor alike, but he did find it – and that is the important crux of this article. And now, it seems the Catholic Church has finally forgiven him, and praises his contribution to society, and for me, it’s not before time.
Please, take the time to read this short story, and to watch the three videos below the words, the reward will far out way the time taken, and the meaning, pull it into your heart for it is wonderful. It is less than 3,500 words. Every word shines a sunbeam into the personality of the person, who was Oscar Wilde.

The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900)

High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.
He was very much admired indeed. "He is as beautiful as a weathercock," remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; "only not quite so useful," he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.
"Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?" asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. "The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything."
"I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy," muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
"He looks just like an angel," said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.
"How do you know?" said the Mathematical Master, "you have never seen one."
"Ah! but we have, in our dreams," answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.
One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.
"Shall I love you?" said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.
"It is a ridiculous attachment," twittered the other Swallows; "she has no money, and far too many relations"; and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.
After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady- love. "She has no conversation," he said, "and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind." And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys. "I admit that she is domestic," he continued, "but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also."
"Will you come away with me?" he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.
"You have been trifling with me," he cried. "I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!" and he flew away.
All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. "Where shall I put up?" he said; "I hope the town has made preparations."
Then he saw the statue on the tall column.
"I will put up there," he cried; "it is a fine position, with plenty of fresh air." So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
"I have a golden bedroom," he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. "What a curious thing!" he cried; "there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness."
Then another drop fell.
"What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?" he said; "I must look for a good chimney-pot," and he determined to fly away.
But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw - Ah! what did he see?
The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
"Who are you?" he said.
"I am the Happy Prince."
"Why are you weeping then?" asked the Swallow; "you have quite drenched me."
"When I was alive and had a human heart," answered the statue, "I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans- Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep."
"What! is he not solid gold?" said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
"Far away," continued the statue in a low musical voice, "far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion- flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen's maids-of- honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move."
"I am waited for in Egypt," said the Swallow. "My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus- flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves."
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad."
"I don't think I like boys," answered the Swallow. "Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller's sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect."
But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. "It is very cold here," he said; "but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger."
"Thank you, little Swallow," said the Prince.
So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince's sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. "How wonderful the stars are," he said to her, "and how wonderful is the power of love!"
"I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball," she answered; "I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy."
He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman's thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with his wings. "How cool I feel," said the boy, "I must be getting better"; and he sank into a delicious slumber.
Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. "It is curious," he remarked, "but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold."
"That is because you have done a good action," said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.
When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. "What a remarkable phenomenon," said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. "A swallow in winter!" And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.
"To-night I go to Egypt," said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, "What a distinguished stranger!" so he enjoyed himself very much.
When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. "Have you any commissions for Egypt?" he cried; "I am just starting."
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay with me one night longer?"
"I am waited for in Egypt," answered the Swallow. "To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water's edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint."
"I will wait with you one night longer," said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. "Shall I take him another ruby?"
"Alas! I have no ruby now," said the Prince; "my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play."
"Dear Prince," said the Swallow, "I cannot do that"; and he began to weep.
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "do as I command you."
So the Swallow plucked out the Prince's eye, and flew away to the student's garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird's wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.
"I am beginning to be appreciated," he cried; "this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play," and he looked quite happy.
The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. "Heave a-hoy!" they shouted as each chest came up. "I am going to Egypt"! cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
"I am come to bid you good-bye," he cried.
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay with me one night longer?"
"It is winter," answered the Swallow, "and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea."
"In the square below," said the Happy Prince, "there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her."
"I will stay with you one night longer," said the Swallow, "but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then."
"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "do as I command you."
So he plucked out the Prince's other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. "What a lovely bit of glass," cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.
Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. "You are blind now," he said, "so I will stay with you always."
"No, little Swallow," said the poor Prince, "you must go away to Egypt."
"I will stay with you always," said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince's feet.
All the next day he sat on the Prince's shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
"Dear little Swallow," said the Prince, "you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there."
So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another's arms to try and keep themselves warm. "How hungry we are!" they said. "You must not lie here," shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.
Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
"I am covered with fine gold," said the Prince, "you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy."
Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. "We have bread now!" they cried.
Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.
The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker's door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.
But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince's shoulder once more. "Good-bye, dear Prince!" he murmured, "will you let me kiss your hand?"
"I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow," said the Prince, "you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you."
"It is not to Egypt that I am going," said the Swallow. "I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?"
And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.
At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.
Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: "Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!" he said.
"How shabby indeed!" cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.
"The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer," said the Mayor in fact, "he is litttle beter than a beggar!"
"Little better than a beggar," said the Town Councillors.
"And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!" continued the Mayor. "We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here." And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.
So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. "As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful," said the Art Professor at the University.
Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. "We must have another statue, of course," he said, "and it shall be a statue of myself."
"Of myself," said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.
"What a strange thing!" said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. "This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away." So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.
"Bring me the two most precious things in the city," said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
"You have rightly chosen," said God, "for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me."

WHAT A WONDERFUL, MOVING STORY: NOW, LISTEN TO THE VIDEOS, AND PLEASE, GO PAST THE ANIMATION AND DRILL DOWN PAST THE IMAGERY AND HOOK INTO THE HEART OF THE MESSAGE - IT REALLY IS WONDERFUL JOY!

I trust that you enjoyed the story of "The Happy Prince" and the three videos, but it is the moral I wish you to hold inside your mind, so please, let me have your comments. Oscar Wilde, indeed, was a remarkable man, and thank you for visiting my blog.

My motto: If you can't have a good day, please, stay away from a bad one.

Wonderful things happen to you when you smile, so keep smiling and the world smiles with you

2009-07-15T09:04:00.001-07:00

Roy Tomkinson Author

The Tour-----------------------------------ISBN:978-1-60693-682-5
Anger Child--------------------------------ISBN:97895597360-4
Of Boys, Men and Mountains----------ISBN:0-86243-868-3

Read my novels and leave a message below, I answer every one.

HAVE A GOOD DAY, AND IF YOU CAN'T, STAY AWAY FROM A BAD ONE

Women Flogged For Wearing The Trousers.

2009-07-14T07:08:00.000-07:00

Sudan: Regime flogs women if they wear THE trousers

Whimpish men who enjoy beating women

The police in Sudan, in the Capital, Khartoum, arrested 13 women when they raided a Cafe because they were wearing trousers - I say it again –trousers. Ten of which, after a quick trial, were fined 250 Sudanese pounds (£74), and then publicly (why waste time on evidence) flogged. The crime, you have it, for wearing trousers in violation of the country’s strict Islamic Law. What a load of rubbish.
Sharia Law, I believe in religious freedom, but what a shower of s*** these people are, to take innocent women, who were minding their own business having a quiet coffee, and inflict pain and criminalise them for having the audacity to wear trousers. Are they afraid the women will grow balls and challenge them!
Trials happen fast in Sudan: summary punishments are handed out like confetti. Flogging is common, more common in fact that the corruption in that country, and that is systemic. Most women suffer the humiliation and torture in silence – and think it’s just part of being a women, their standing is considerably below that of a beast of burden.
Cor! It pi**** me off, and makes my blood boil. I speak here as a red blooded heterosexual male, who like to get his own way, but this...

Khartoum traditional dress for a woman is a shawl over the head and shoulders, body covered. How dare this regime treat women that way! It wouldn't suprise me if half the men had steel chastity belts hanging from the walls as a warning to their wives in case they decided to flirt.
Young people are disciplined for mingling in public, alcohol is banned: from what I can see, everything is banned. I’m thinking of sending over a few stone tools to the leaders at least to bring them into the stone age, iron and bronze? Well, a step too far. As for the Dark Ages, they positively glow with intellectuality when it comes to this regime.
The ruling party in Sudan came to power in 1989 in a military coup, and implemented a strict Sharia Law Code, the ruling party’s interpretation of course, which helps to suppress the population, and to strengthen the regime's tenuous hold on power – clever that, don’t you think!
Three of the women insisted on a trial, one, Ms Hussein, even printed invitations to the Western Press and to Public Figures to attend her trial – good on you is what I say, if it wasn't serious it would be laughable. She said: “Let the people see for themselves, It is not only my issue. This is retribution to thousands of girls who are facing flogging for the last 20 years because of wearing trousers. They prefer to remain silent.”

Well, the civilised Western World will not remain silent, and we are with you Ms Hussain and wish you well against these despots. Or should I say whimpish men in trousers who enjoy beating women.

Wonderful things happen to you when you smile, so keep smiling and the world smiles with you

2009-07-13T07:06:00.000-07:00

Roy Tomkinson

Author
-- THE TOUR --

--Anger Child--

--Of Boys, Men and Mountains--
Read my novels and leave a message below, I answer every one.

HAVE A GOOD DAY, AND IF YOU CAN'T, STAY AWAY FROM A BAD ONE

A Bit of Nonsence and Strife in A Bus Stop

2009-07-12T08:47:00.000-07:00

HAVE A LAUGH ON ME!

I like to share with you a funny story, and believe me, it’ll stretch your imagination, but it's true, and I promise to not exaggerate. I’m a little wiser now mind you than I was then – so no judging if you please.
A few years ago ten of us, all male, from an organisation I was a member of at that time (Round Table), were invited to Douglas, Isle of Man; it sounded great, and it coincided with the motorbike racing. So we were all well excited.
We were to be hosted by a member from the same organisation, who lived and worked on the Island. A few of us took our cars and we crossed the short journey to the Island by ferry. The accommodation was first class. The food outstanding. We were well looked after, and entertained to the highest of standards.
One of our hosts worked, (general manager) in the main Casino, and he invited us along for the evening intending to give us the the Casino's VIP treatment. When we entered the Casino we were handed gold badges to wear.
We had the freedom of the place. This was getting better and better. Next to the Casino, a part of the same complex, was a nightclub, so it was there we all ventured. Threw some money into a kitty and the evening started.
One ten pound, another ten pound, yet a third ten pounds, and yet, drinks were only around £2 each. I turned to the person next to me and said. “We’ve been here just over an hour, I’ve had three drinks," the last was still almost full in front of me.

"I've placed £30 in the kitty within the last hour. Doesn’t seem right to me.” I grouched to the person sitting opposite me, the one who had charge of the kitty.
“No problem, I’m kitty host, stop the moaning, you can afford it.” He replied. “We’re on holiday, I’m sharing a little happiness.”
I did feel a little silly, but still... my inert nature couldn’t let the matter rest unchallenged. I didn’t mind a little happiness being shared, but not with my money.

“Where is the rest of the money?” Placing a forcefulness into my voice.

Then I heard three voices almost simultaneously. “Hi David! Hi David! Hi David!
Instantly I knew. David had always been a bit of a girl charmer, and when he was at the bar bought drinks for his potential conquests, acts as lubrication to the good parts, he used to say. I insisted that he handed what we left of the kitty over to me. I received pence.

No more charming for David, or, if he wished to charm, he would have to lubricate from his own wallet and not from our kitty. I was determined.
Out of sorts I drank my drink and we headed for the Casino where I ordered £10 worth of chips, thinking perhaps, I’d win at least the drinks' kitty back. I approached the Roulette Tables with trepidation, I was going to spend, to gamble, to win some money. My expectations were high. The minimum bet was £1, I watched the wheel spin a few times and was quite taken back by the money involved: around £500 per spin was bet at each table, and in total there were 18 tables.
In I jumped, £1 chip on Red, the wheel spun: Black.
Another £1 chip on Odd, the wheel spun: Even.
I tried again.
A £1 chip on number 20, the wheel spun: O
I had had enough, collected the seven chips which I had left from off the table, and went straight to the cashier and asked her to change them back into seven pounds.
“Sir,” she replied, her words sprinkled with sarcasm. “Are the aware, there’s only £7 in chips here.”
“I know, and I’m aware,” I rejoined with equal sarcasm. “I’ve lost £3, now change them. I’m not losing any more money.”
I took the £7 out of her hand, went, and sat in a corner away from the tables, by this time I was completely out of sorts.
Two smartly dressed ladies walked past me, I smiled at them, and they came and sat next to me, one each side, and started to talk with me as if they’d known me for years. I think they were from Denmark or Sweden, not sure now, but do know they weren't from the UK. Things are not too bad after all I thought, as I noticed a few men look over to where I was sitting.
I mentioned Wales, the rivers, mountains, miners, a lot about Welsh Culture. They had never been to Wales, which I thought a bit strange, being that the Isle of Man is only just off the North Wales Coast. I asked them what they did for a living.
“This and that,” they replied. "We do OK, we like the Casino the best."
A few of my party saw me talking with the two girls and decided to join the three of us and sat round, and joined into the conversation. I had no problem with that; conversation flowed, and the girls were charming, but it was me they seemed to defer to the most, which does give you a buzz, I must admit.
One from my group stood. “Come on,” he said. Let's move on and go into the VIP lounge.”
The others nodded agreement and stood, except the two girls.

“Come in with us," I innocently said.
“No! We’re not allowed.”
“No! No, come with us, I insist, we are guests of the general manager, I assure you, there'll be no problem. The drinks will be free, and there is food waiting for us there, and they have a number of private rooms for groups who wish to be together to play and talk,” I emphasised, trying to show my importance.
“Still can’t, but we have a caravan a little way up the road. You can come back there with us if you like, and we can have a little party, bring one of your friends, or just yourself. We don't mind.”
The weather was cold, it was dark outside.
“A caravan, no way, this is much better.”
“Where do you want it them?”
“Want it! What do you mean want it? I don’t want anything inside a caravan.”
One of the girls looked at me and smiled as if butter would have trouble melting inside her rounded mouth.
“There’s a bus stop around the back of here. It’s really quiet, and there’s a seat against the wall,” she smiled provocatively at me. "I'll give you a good price."
Price! The penny had finally dropped, or should I say, I jingled my £7 coins in my pocket, no way was I parting with them, even though they would have been only enough for a kiss, and a quick one at that.
“What job did you say you do?”
"You’re an asshole, and we’ve wasted enough time on you," one snapped at me, and they promptly marched off in a bad temper, their rounded smiles gone into hard faces, to try to find another sucker, this one wasn’t sticking.
The boys who were with me roared with laughter, most said, they has realised, but it was easy to say that, and too this day, when a few of us get together, someone is guaranteed to mention the story of the bus stop, as it later became known, as I said: a bit on nonsence and strife in a Bus Stop.

Any funny stories you wish to share with me?

Life and Love are Funny Things, Strange and Sad, yet wonderful

2009-07-07T08:15:00.001-07:00

Life is a funny thing – strange words you might think. And you might question. Funny as in - Ha! Ha! - or funny as in strange. Let me clarify, funny in a sad sense, I mean it to mean a contradiction in terminology.
Our lives are filled with inconsistency; our emotions towards life are Jack in the Boxes, never static, always on the move, up and down, up and down, our lives are in constant motion, and each of us have numerous facets, many of which we hide even from ourselves, and yet, we are all very similar. We are filled with contrary emotions when it comes to love.
For some, love is like a butterfly, flutter, flutter, flutter and it is gone, and we move on, but that is applicable mainly to the love of a man and women. With children it is somewhat different. That love represent more of the chrysalis - cocoon type of love, and parents very rarely leave that spot – love of our children is unconditional, giving of ourselves to our next generation, but could that be classed as hereditary? Are we programmed, and do it for survival of our own genes, and nature disguises it as love for our continued survival?
I have questioned myself many times what love actually is, what are the ingredients that makes up the mix? You can’t eat, smell, hold it. Physical it is not, but an abstraction, a firing in the brain of wanting the object of that love to be near to you.
A longing for that thing or person, which fills the mind with warmth, and to have the feeling reciprocated, makes it even better, the bonus, payback if you like. Though it is not essential to make love happen, it does make the emotion that much more deeper and more powerful. And yet, often, we just fritter it away by our own actions and feel sad when it flies away from us, and often we don’t know how to get it back, lost in a world of our own making.
Is love a physical sexual feeling, a sense of belonging: to own and control that person? We can hold emotion towards a thing - an animal - inanimate objects. Your home, car, money, prestige, fame, recognition, adulation, have all been loved in some degree over the ages.
From a surgical viewpoint, love is but a chemical reaction in the brain and little else, but for me that is a journey far to far, a too simplistic and naive view of life and love. A living thing – a person, an animal, is more than chemical. With a person, love can be as deep as a touching of two souls. For those of you who have ridden that horse, you’ll know to what I’m referring - I've been there, the ride can be bumpy but well worth the trip - it is one of the great wonders of life. Feelings and emotions are real, as real as beaches, mountains, trees, and far more beautiful.
You wouldn’t give your life for a beach, a mountain or a tree, no matter how beautiful, but you would, and often give it with a glad heart for love, if it meant saving that person whom you love. We all have experienced these feelings, every one of us in some measure – more or less.

Therein, lies the difference – the rub - most people wouldn’t willingly give their life for an object, but would for a person whom they love, but here again, nothing is that straight forward. Millions throughout history have given their life for an ideal, the love of democracy is but one example.
Some demonstrate only a love for money, - sad but true - and place it above all else, and yes, they would die in the getting of it. Everything pales into insignificance when it comes to money for these people, and quite a few, who have won and lost it, can’t live without it and commit suicide rather than face a future alone without the crutch of wealth to ease their pain.
Can you start to see why I believe life is funny in a sad sense?
Now I’ll get to the crux of the matter - the wonder -to share with you what love means to me. To answer that, I will quote from a far wiser person than myself: my father, and what it meant to him. But first, I need to set the scene.
When I was young and in the garden with my father, with whom I spent a lot of time, he told me when he was young, that once he found a thrush’s nest with five little chicks inside. The parents had been killed, and my father removed the nest and chicks and placed them in a box. They belonged to him, he had given them life, at the least, he had certainly saved them from death, and so he reared them, and then he let them go, and of course they flew away.
“Did you not love the birds daddy?” I asked.
“Of course,” came his forceful reply.
“Why let them go? They would be dead without you, they belong to you, owe you their life.”
He smiled a little, I can see that smile even now, and he said.
“You have overlooked one main point: they never belonged to me in the first place. They belong to the land and the countryside. I was only helping them on their way. It was their time to move on, just as your time will come to fly the nest and make your way in the world. To deny any one this right is to deny them their freedom.”
“Did you ever see the birds again?” I asked. He was quite shocked at this question.
“This is their garden; they were born here. This garden belongs to them; they are a part of the garden as much as that tree,” he said, pointing to one of the trees in the garden.
“If they are still in the garden and you see them every day,” I said innocently, “they are not free, otherwise they would be gone.”
He lit his pipe, thought for a minute and answered. “Freedom is about the ability to choose where you wish to be, to spend time to suit yourself. To be free, you must be there by your own free will.”
I replied, “By letting the birds go free, you gave them different options, and they chose to stay, so the act of giving them freedom resulted in them staying. They were captives in their own garden, since that is where they wished to be.”
My father smiled at this comment and looked round the garden in satisfaction. “You've got it,” he said. “If you wish to keep something close to you, give it the ability to fly away, but make the staying a lot better.”
So for me love is about giving, unconditional giving, and like the birds in my father’s garden, it will boomerang back to you with ten-fold happiness.
Have a good day, and remember, if you can’t have a good day, please, stay away from a bad one.

My father's words, and they come from my first published novel, "Of Boys, Men and Mountains," please, get a copy and read the story. It is a truely inspirational book, and I get copious comments almost everyday about the story from different people, from many walk of life, in this country and from America.

LOOKING INTO THE MIRROR OF MICHAEL JACKSON

2009-07-02T06:36:00.000-07:00

Looking from the outside into the life of Michael Jackson amid the frenzy and differing stories emerging, one can’t help but wonder what is true and what is fictional. He lead his life in the spotlight of publicity, had no choice, a boy star, from a family of performers. Controlled, if it is to be believe, by an autocratic father, who bullied, abused and groomed his children for stardom.
But the most important thing in his life alluded him. I hope now in death, he is able to find it.
He had prestige, accolade, untold wealth, houses, cars; anything he wanted be could buy, and buy he did, often unwisely, as if trying to buy his childhood back. And yet, again from hearsay, he had debts amounting to $500 million. A colossal sum for any company let alone for an individual, but perhaps he was that, an institution to be used and exploited.
Was it all worth it?
That is not for me to answer, but I suspect his children may not think it so; they are left without a father, now in the custody of their grandmother, but even here there is controversy. There is a saying in the Wild West, live by the bullet and you die by it. Michael Jackson lived in the media, and now in death nothing is hidden.
He lead a bizarre life, his Never-Never-Land Ranch, the fair ground, his monkey Bubbles, his menagerie of animals. His predilection for being with children, and not least of all, his tormented personality; he was not happy inside his body. The operations on his face, his skin treatments, his reliance on tablets, adds up to... I’ll let you work that conclusion.
The child abuse court case which cost him millions, and yet he couldn't help himself. He was on a roundabout, a cage on his merry go round, knew he was there, but didn’t know how to stop it turning to allow him time to get off.
Did he abuse children?
I think not; inside his heart he was a child, stardom had robbed him of his childhood, and for the rest of his life he tried to regain that feeling of being a child, playing, laughing, running, smiling. But of course, he failed, what is lost is gone, and you must move on, but Michael couldn't move forward, so he stayed where he was in his mind – a child, a lost child.

He reminded me of the parable of the lost sheep, balanced on a precipice clinging desperately in case it fell. The sheep found help, Michael was still looking but death found him first.
I remember the furore of when he held his baby over the balcony, my heart jumped to see how reckless he could be with another life. It wasn’t intentional, I don’t think that for a moment, but he couldn’t see the danger, and still, I don’t think he felt he had done anything wrong.
You often find that in people of genius, they have talent, and yet lack common sense, but this article will not be complete unless I separate the man from his music.

There, he was whole, the sounds pleased, his dance enchanted, his whole demeanour was of the showman, the entertainer, and because of that, something was lost in the translation back into ordinary everyday life, the mask dropped, the sad clown's face came through. He will go down as one of the greats of music. That is assured, like Elvis Presley, another tortured individual who died before his time.
I said earlier that the most important thing in life alluded him, for all his wealth and fame, or perhaps because of it. I believe he never felt loved or valued for himself, and longed for that feeling of being cherished for what he was, and not for what he could give to others, and give he did of himself over generously.
Would I have changed places with him when he lived? No, if it were offered, I would have run away and carried on running, but I hope now, Michael Jackson will find the peace he craved in life, and I wish his children and his family well.
As yet, the drama is still centre stage, and far from its final conclusion. The curtain is up, the show must goes forward, and it will, in spectacular fashion, his place in history assured, rest in peace Michael Jackson, the peace which alluded you in life.

Let me have your comments, please.

FIXATION ON TEETH WITH A FEW THOUGHTS ON THE BARD

2009-06-29T06:28:00.000-07:00

First, before Shakespeare, I must dampen your enthusiasm for real teeth, a most dangerous practice, to have a fixation with teeth, especially your own, to fix on others YOUR obsession, (by fixation I mean to stare) is even worse. The excitement could lead to overeating, or, even worse, a permanent fixation on teeth.
And further, it could turn into an passion, then where would you be? Tramping around all day long looking at people’s teeth. A sure way to get a black eye.
My teeth over the years have been drilled, plugged, screwed, polished and poked. Indeed, one of my wisdom teeth is missing, yanked out, a pusy postulated abscess underneath, not a pretty sight, and lost to me forever. And I have a hole there to prove it.
Ah! But I have a surprise! I have one gold tooth. Those of you that feel prone to fixation, or think I am bragging about my wealth, don’t, please don’t go into fixation, or be jealous of the gold tooth. It was done before Gordon Brown sold off the country’s gold reserves, when the price was very low, and of course, I can never sell it, not when I’m alive anyway. That reminds me, I need to make a will and mention that.
It is real gold, mind you, not some gauze and plug, a real gold cap. And it shines; it could blind you if you look at it the wrong way, but alas, I still have my teeth, and they are well brushed, except where that darn wisdom molar used to reside. A big hole inhabits the spot now, it’s good for putting your tongue into though, my tongue not yours silly!
I think you are excited enough now so…And now to Shakespeare:Before you get too excited.I still have a passion for life despite the loss of the tooth. So there! Lump it with sugar on: it's definitely Shakespeare now, so let’s get serious.
The following passage is from, “AS YOU LIKE IT” sounds quite rude doesn’t it? If it does, get your mind back into the right gear and stop thinking of all those positions.What is to follow is quite a serious bit of writing by the bard.
By the way, its called the SEVEN AGES OF MAN. And I reside between the 4th and 5th stages of life.What is that you say? Nothing ! Carry on reading.
Here goes: Jaques is in The Forest of Arden Act II Scene VII, in As You Like it.
I have numbered the seven ages, jokes aside, please, read it a few times. I think this passage is quite profound, and somewhere along it, you will find yourself. And it’s quite funny, even if it is, as I just said, somewhat profound.

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
At first the (1) infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
(2) And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail,
Unwillingly to school.
(3) And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad,
Made to his mistress' eyebrow.
(4) Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth.
(5) And then the justice,

In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part.
(6) The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.
(7)Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

I will be doing a blog on Michael Jackson Next, so keep looking at my blog site

2009-06-26T06:04:00.000-07:00

Roy Tomkinson

Author
-- THE TOUR --

--Anger Child--

--Of Boys, Men and Mountains--
Read my novels and email me about what you think, I answer every one, get around 40 a day, going up, but within 3 days,I reply to everyone.

HAVE A GOOD DAY, AND IF YOU CAN'T STAY AWAY FROM A BAD ONE

ART COMES FROM INSIDE THE MIND

2009-06-26T05:24:00.000-07:00

What constitutes art? Porridge to one is poison for the other. A picture – sculpture - photo – building - living trees: Anything, everything, and nothing, a black hole can be looked upon as art.
Art is subjective, and of value purely in according to the taste of the individual, and of course, where that person is as he travels along his individual journey through life. We are a part, a very small part, in the art of nature and often we just walk past without stopping to look and listen.
For me, I like walking, especially in a natural forest where I feel close to nature, that is the best kind of art, nature’s dynamic art, moving, changing, creating a myriad of shapes in numerous colours: twisted branches, rough, smooth, round: square shaped stones poking out of the ground.
The sound of the wind as it rushes though the trees: animal sounds. The sun as it hits the trees and dances with the leaves to create beams of light filled with minute airborne particles, most of which are seeds, alive, looking for that special bit of earth into which to land and find life.
Water, the sound of a river as it flows towards the sea, the bubbling, babbling, burping, gibbering sounds: every molecule alive and bursting with energy. Sometimes, there is silence where the waters runs deep, and yet, there is still sound, the sound of no sound, a rustle of leaves, a fish jumps – splash - a ring moves towards the shore and it is gone as if by magic back from whence it came.
All these things I see as art, a living vibrant art ever changing, never still, showing us the colour of its emotions in many differing forms every minute of every day as it dances to it own orchestrated sounds and colours. Growing more pronounced as the seasons change, but ever there is change, nothing staying the same. The now second is not the same as the second preceding, or the one which follows.

There is a difference and we should stop, take stock, see, smell, feel nature's message, because it speaks to us every second of every day, and if you listen, I mean really listen, your life will be enriched and your mind will be at peace. That is where the real beauty of art lies, so take your porridge, enjoy, but leave the poison behind, and remember the poem Desiderata.

Please, I would like to hear what art is to you - let me know!

Last night I heard Michael Jackson had died of a heart attack, and I will be shortly writing a blog: a reflection on his sad life.

Take the wooden block out of your eyes before you criticise the splinter in someone else's eyes

2009-06-19T08:50:00.000-07:00

Let me say first off: My views are well known, and I feel no sympathy, respect or empathy towards Extreme Muslims, or any religion or organisation, especially where violence, intimidation, and manipulation are concerned when they use their religion as a weapon against Western Values, but that equally means the other extreme is also unacceptable, and I feel the same contempt for the BNP.

But recently there has been a lot of criticism of Mohammad and his alleged paedophile tendencies when referring to Aisha, one of his many wives with whom it's alleged (in the Koran) he consummated his marriage to her when she was aged only nine years old. But to call the Muslim Prophet a paedophile, with the image it conjures, is vindictive and inflammatory, and I feel this type of attitude will get Western Europeans nowhere, and should not be condoned in the slightest - in fact, it needs to be roundly condemned.

I know the argument, Ah! but it happened, see the Koran, there is little doubt about it, and I'm not disputing that, or the despicable way in which some Muslims still today treat their women. And yes, if it happened today, it would be paedophilia, and I would be the first to shout about it. But you must look at the actions in the context of the ago, and not from our perspective by transposing today’s values on yesterday’s actions.

Consummating a marriage with a nine year old girl is wrong when looked at from where we are today, abhorrent even, but it was not wrong then, and to get heated about something that may, or may not have happened centuries ago beggars belief. Does it matter one way or the other?
I think not, the average life expectancy at that time, when Mohammad lived, was around 40 years of age. Whether he consummated the marriage with his nine-year-old bride is an irrelevance, he was married to her: it was the law, and the West shouldn't judge. Mary Boleyn was not that much older when her father gave her encouragingly to Henry the VIII as one of his many mistresses.
It was a part of life then, and accepted as natural and normal: a girl was mature enough to engage in sexual intercourse immediately she reached puberty. So to judge and place our current day moralistic values towards a culture, which existed many hundreds of years ago, and to take a judgemental stance, is not just wrong, but cogently preposterous.
He, Mohammad, was doing what everyone else was doing at that time. To suggest, or to use that as an example to suggest Mohammad was a flawed individual is the wrong premise by which to denigrate the Muslim religion. Remember, they were an enlightened culture in art, medicine, architecture, mathematics, far in advance of the rest of the world and still, a lot of their ideas we use and benefit from to this present day.

But to suggest that Mohammad hated and had no respect for women is to falsify the truth. Indeed, I go even further, and take an opposite stance, it shows that Mohammad had respect for women, and was far more enlightened towards them than the culture he was a part of, and which he helped to shape for future generations.
I quote from an article from Creeping Sharia:
“While it is widely accepted that the girl’s father first offered her for betrothal to Muhammad when she was just six, many argue that Muhammad married Aisha when she was nine and the union was not consummated until she reached puberty, years later.” Which I'm inclined to accept, but even if that were not the situation, it still shows him up in a good light.
As (I know he’s a bit of a loud mouth, but what he said has relevance) Anjem Choudary says in the article. “At nine she reached her menses and in those days a girl was considered to be mature when that happened. No one will swallow talk about child brides. It would lead to a huge backlash.”
So let us not criticize or take a highbrow tone today, it has no relevance, something that happened long ago and we should move forward. But I will add a cautionary note. There are still some within the Muslim faith who see no wrong with a man having sex with a girl of nine or ten providing she has had her first period, with agreement from the girl's father, and she is married to the person concerned, arguing that it is acceptable because if it was good enough for Mohammad, it should be good enough for other Muslims, even today. That is a puerile argument, and anyone who holds those tendencies today, Muslim or otherwise, should get short shift, and be shown up for what they are: Woman - Girl - Child - abusers, and nothing to do with religion.

So instead of division, let us heal the rift whether we are Christian, Muslim, Atheist - we are all one family, the family of humankind, read a comment made to my last blog by an anonymous contributor. It made me think, division is divisive, and it is time to heal and stand together. But where there is no justice, or where it is misplaced, we need to speak out, or otherwise the strong and aggressive in wickedness will prevail over the good and the weak, and I make no appologies for that remark.

SEE MY OTHER ARTICLES:

Would you employ a Muslim? I think, perhaps not?

ROY TOMKINSON - DUBAI: THE HYPOCRITICAL ARAB STATE

Roy Tomkinson: Has Egypt gone Mad?

Would you employ a Muslim? I think, perhaps not?

2009-06-18T05:09:00.000-07:00

Why do - SOME - Muslims think they are different from us?
Better even, and take us for suckers!
They use our laws but have no respect for our culture
Why?

They are the same as us, no better - no worse - and we should not give in to their silly nonsense, especially when it comes to dress code. This country is taking political correctness to an absurd length in trying to appease different cultural differences in our population.
Is it any wonder when people from Ireland get angry with the number of Polish who come into the country and still wish to retain their own culture, instead of integrating into our way of life? Unemployment is high and rising, curbs need to the introduced and rigorously enforced; the authorities need to show that they are doing something positive for our people and not appeasing other sub cultures, which lack British values.
Violence is not the way forward, it never is, but the politicians and judges must start to take notice, serious notice, of the anger that is building in this country against an erosion of our values and culture; seeming to appease other minority groups above what we value and consider British, should never be the case.
Two members of the BNP have been voted into the European Parliament using that very argument, standing for British values, and won, over the heads the mainstream parties. It's no good, as the main parties seem to have done, to brush it off as being little more that a protest vote against the MP’s expenses debacle and the state of the economy.
It is a warning: if we carry on down this road, more people will become disillusioned with the system that seems to favours foreign, often alien values, above our own. Why should we cater for other languages! Other countries don’t, yet, it’s as if we try to be everything to everybody, except for our own people, their values are often shoved under the table it pursuit of political correctness.
Take the case of a foreign waitress, a Muslim, who was awarded nearly £3,000 in damages for sexual harassment after being made to wear a revealing red dress for work.
Fata Lemes, 33, quit her job after claiming that the low-cut dress was “disgusting” and made her look like a “prostitute.” Miss Lemes, a Bosnian Muslim, had told an employment tribunal that she “might as well have been naked” in the dress.
“I was brought up a Muslim and am not used to wearing sexually attractive clothes,” she said, tut, tut, tut, the little... I won't say, it but the little girl who cried fire, comes to mind.
The London based Employment Tribunal awarded Miss Lemes damages after pointing out that only women - and not male staff - were required to wear the summer uniform at the bar in Mayfair, London. What do they expect, men to wear dresses. Absolute nonsense!
The outfit, described as “brightly coloured, and figure hugging, exactly the type of dress you would expect to see worn in a bar.”
This Bosnian woman was trying to claim a total of £20,000 compensation, including £17,500 for her hurt feelings (poor thing!). Thank goodness the Tribunal thought otherwise, called her claim “manifestly absurd.” But still she was awarded £2,919.95 for hurt feelings and loss of earnings, which I think is absolutely disgraceful, political correctness gone bad, by do good idiots.
The Tribunal said that while Miss Lemes held “views about modesty and decency which some might think unusual in Britain in the 21st century,” her employer should have taken her feelings into account when asking her to wear the dress.
The ruling stated: “Her perception was that wearing the dress would make her feel as if she was on show, as if she was being presented as one of the attractions which the Rocket Bar was offering its customers.
And the Bar maintained, and rightly in my view that: “In our view that perception was legitimate and not unreasonable. It [the dress] is clearly a garment for a girl or young woman. It is intended to, and does, show the curves of the body.” She works in a Bar, she is supposed to look smart and smile at the customers all the time, that is her job.
Miss Lemes began working at the bar in May last year. A week later she was asked to change into the red dress instead of the loose fitting black linen shirt. Not the sort of image you would associate with a trendy Bar.
She maintains: “It was indecent. If you put this dress on you might as well be naked,” she told the tribunal.
She states: “Everything finishes in the middle at the chest. It is open at the front and the back. I did not want men looking at my body.”
Miss Lemes earned £5.52 an hour plus a share of the tips but quit after informing the bar’s manager she could not wear the dress.
At the Tribunal, the restaurant group submitted photos of another waitress, Amanda Bjursten, wearing the dress in the bar. Ms Bjursten, who appeared at the Tribunal modelling the outfit, stated that she was “completely comfortable” wearing the red dress.
Luca Scanu, the bar manager, denied the dress was intended to increase sales and tips from male customers by being “sexually inviting.” But even if it was somewhat revealing, she was working in a bar and needed to look the part.
What does this silly money grabbing girl expect? To dress as a nun! If that is the case, she should take orders, and become ordained, but somehow I think not, she enjoys the good life far too much for that.

The RED DRESS WHICH THE BAR ASKED MADAM LEMES TO WEAR

Looks alright to me, quite smart, nothing indecent or over revealing there. But what do I know, I'm only a bog standard British non Muslim Citizen. Being a good Muslim, she thought is made her look naked, poor hard done by little thing. Showing all that bare flesh, I bet she couldn't sleep at night.
BUT

This is Madam Lemus on holiday, picture taken from her Face Book Page by Tim Stuart. Spending no doubt her ill begotten gain. She must have left her Muslim values at home when this picture was taken. She is showing more bare flesh than ever the red dress reveals - funny that, don't you think!

This behaviour does no good, when silly Tribunals award payment to people like that, and causes anger and disgust among the indiginent British population. These are some of the comments on the web from The Opinionator.

"Fata, you are a sickening piece of shit. Just absolutely disgusting. I would rather kiss a piece of dog shit than to kiss a horrible piece of crap like you. I hope some day you are wrongfully sued for all you have in your pathetic life."
Posted by: Mark June 15, 2009 at 10:05 PM
"All the "rights" tribunals including the employment ones along with most civic employees have no common sense.Which is why certain people get away with this kind of thing. their culture tells them that this is a wonderful thing to do and the politically correct dhimmies go along with it ,increasing the chances that it will happen again."
Posted by: Jay June 15, 2009 at 11:55 PM
"Incidents like this just make it easier for an employer not to hire a moslem in the first place. She is proving that moslem employees are more trouble than they are worth.
It's a shame that it's come to this, but can anyone deny it?"
"This only makes it more difficult for the "good moslems" (I keep on hearing they're out there...) to gain employment."
Posted by: Devlin June 16, 2009 at 02:40 PM
"This is disgraceful, no wonder racial tension is on the increase in this county and the BNP are gaining a foothold. This is political madness gone over the edge. In muslim countries you try anything out of what they consider correct and you end up in prison. A few week in prison this woman should have, and perhaps then she may learn her lesson, but somehow I doubt it."

THE OPINIONATOR WEBPAGE:

http://theopinionator.typepad.com/my_weblog/2009/06/hiring-muslim-female-and-male-for-that-matter-should-come-with-a-giant-warning-sign-to-all-potential-employers-in-fact---i.html
CREEPING SHARIA WEBPAGE:

http://creepingsharia.wordpress.com/

MY ARTICLES

ROY TOMKINSON - DUBAI: THE HYPOCRITICAL ARAB STATE
http://roytomkinson.blogspot.com/2009/06/roy-tomkinson-dubai-hypocritical-arab.html
Roy Tomkinson: Has Egypt gone Mad?
http://roytomkinson.blogspot.com/2009/05/roy-tomkinson-has-egypt-gone-mad.html

Roy Tomkinson: A GOOD DAY TO YOU, A VERY GOOD DAY TO YOU: THANK YOU FOR VISITING MY BLOGSITE - ENJOY.

2009-06-12T04:38:00.000-07:00

Roy Tomkinson

Author
-- THE TOUR --

--Anger Child--

--Of Boys, Men and Mountains--
Read my novels and email me about what you think, I answer every one, get around 40 a day, going up, but within 3 days,I reply to everyone.

HAVE A GOOD DAY, AND IF YOU CAN'T STAY AWAY FROM A BAD ONE

Puff Puff, The Smoker Blows

2009-06-12T04:04:00.000-07:00

CIGARETTES! SMOKE! DISGUST!
Why should we pay for them!

If you are a smoker, do you feel marginalized? Good, and so you should, there is a good reason why you should feel that way. Smokers cost the rest of us a small fortune. The National Health Service spends 5% of its annual budget on treating and caring for people who smoke.
Recent research conducted by Oxford University calculated that the direct cost is estimated around £5.2 billion for 2005/2006. Today that figure would be even higher. Indeed, they go even further and state that the annual cost is still likely to be an underestimate.

The calculation does not take into account the cost of indirect care, or the costs of treating directly related diseases caused by passive smoking; numerous illnesses are aggravated by smoking, but cannot be directly linked, but are still a cost.
Dr Steven Allender, of the British Heart Foundation Promotion Research Group, concluded that: "Smoking is still a considerable public burden in the UK. Accurately establishing the burden terms of death, disability and financial costs is important for informing national public health policy."
The report, recently published by the Tobacco Control Group, calculated that around 110,00 people died in 2005, directly from smoking, which accounts for 19% of all male deaths, and around 10% of all female deaths.
The defense the smoker comes up with is almost always the same. “We pay tax on our cigarettes, far more than the Health Service spends on us.” Let’s look at the tax revenue figures for 2005/2006, and see if this is in fact the situation.
Excise Duty amounts to £8 billion with VAT another £1.9 billion a total of £9.8 billion.
So yes, on the surface, the argument is a sound one. The contribution to the Exchequer is almost double. There, a smoker would say, we are vindicated. If it wasn’t for us smokers, the argument runs, the government would have to find other ways of raising taxation. So leave us alone, we harm no one only ourselves, it’s a free country, so it’s up to us if we wish to smoke.
The argument, thought compelling, is flawed and puerile. There are other costs associated with smoking, which far outstrip the related illnesses identifiable with the National Health Service.
There is an indirect cost which is incalculable, but nevertheless, the cost is still real. By the smoker suffering an illness through smoking, which results in being unable to work. So instead of making a net contribution towards the economy, paying taxes and National Insurance, the smoker becomes a direct burden on the taxpayer. In other words, goes from a positive to a negative contributor, and becomes a part of the great herd of people who claim sickness benefit as a direct result of smoking. So the taxation argument will not hold water.
I think within two decades smoking will become illegal, and I hope I live to see it. No one needs to smoke, it is the most foulest of habits, and I can’t see for the life of me why people do it, intelligent people at that. And what is more, they feel it is their right to smoke (that I can accept, we live in a free country) but to throw away the cigarette stump onto the floor, and then to stamp on it and to leave it lying there for someone else to clean up is unforgivingly arrogant. You can always tell the outide area where the smokers are, just look to the floor and see the mess, but even without the mess, the area reeks of smoke, which gets ingrained into the walls and floor.

MY FIRST PUBLISHED NOVEL

2009-06-10T00:56:00.000-07:00

COVER FROM THE NOVEL: "OF BOYS, MEN, AND MOUNTAINS" GOOD HARD TIMES

HAVE A GOOD DAY, AND IF YOU CAN'T STAY AWAY FROM A BAD ONE

Puff, Puff, The Smoker Blows!

2009-06-09T03:31:00.000-07:00

iCIGARETTES! SMOKE! DISGUST!
Why should we pay for them!

The calculation does not take into account the cost of indirect care, or the costs of treating directly related diseases caused by passive smoking; numerous illnesses are aggravated by smoking, but cannot be directly linked, but are still a cost.
Dr Steven Allender, of the British Heart Foundation Promotion Research Group, concluded that: "Smoking is still a considerable public burden in the UK. Accurately establishing the burden terms of death, disability and financial costs is important for informing national public health policy."
The report, recently published by the Tobacco Control Group, calculated that around 110,000 people died in 2005, directly from smoking, which accounts for 19% of all male deaths, and around 10% of all female deaths.
The defense the smoker comes up with is almost always the same. “We pay tax on our cigarettes, far more than the Health Service spends on us.” Let’s look at the tax revenue figures for 2005/2006, and see if this is in fact the situation.
Excise Duty amounts to £8 billion with VAT another £1.9 billion a total of £9.8 billion.
So yes, on the surface, the argument is a sound one. The contribution to the Exchequer is almost double. There, a smoker would say, we are vindicated. If it wasn’t for us smokers, the argument runs, the government would have to find other ways of raising taxation. So leave us alone, we harm no one only ourselves, it’s a free country, so it’s up to us if we wish to smoke.
The argument, thought compelling, is flawed and puerile. There are other costs associated with smoking, which far outstrip the related illnesses identifiable with the National Health Service.
There is an indirect cost which is incalculable, but nevertheless, the cost is still real. By the smoker suffering an illness through smoking, which results in being unable to work. So instead of making a net contribution towards the economy, paying taxes and National Insurance, the smoker becomes a direct burden on the taxpayer. In other words, goes from a positive to a negative contributor, and becomes a part of the great herd of people who claim sickness benefit as a direct result of smoking. So the taxation argument will not hold water.
I think within two decades smoking will become illegal, and I hope I live to see it. No one needs to smoke, it is the most foulest of habits, and I can’t see for the life of me why people do it, intelligent people at that. And what is more, they feel it is their right to smoke (that I can accept, we live in a free country) but to throw away the cigarette stump onto the floor, and then to stamp on it and to leave it lying there for someone else to clean up is unforgivingly arrogant. You can always tell the outide area where the smokers are, just look to the floor and see the mess, but even without the mess, the area reeks of smoke, which gets ingrained into the walls and floor.

MONEY MAKES THE WORLD GOES ROUND - OR DOES IT?

2009-06-08T09:44:00.000-07:00

Money! Credit Money!

Do you control money, or does it control you?

The economy, despite the few green shoots, which are starting to show in the housing market, is still very much on its knees. Unemployment is close to 2.5 million people. House repossessions are at an all time high. Beneath that statistic, millions more are just barely managing to keep afloat.
Worry over finances has become a national British pastime.
Let me give you another statistic; most of what we worry about never happens - FACT. Worry is the fear of what might happen, and even if it does happen, a few months later and after the dust has settled, it’s almost forgotten, and doesn’t seem that importance when looked at from a distance in any event.
I’m not belittling worry, there’s a lot of it about at this time and it’s real. The greatest fear for most people is lack of money by which to live their lives, losing one’s job, over spending on credit cards, mortgage payments falling behind. You worry over the cost of insurance, tax, and credit payments, so you are able to keep the car on the road.
I'm not saying not to worry about these things, if you’re unable to pay your way, you will worry. That is only natural, but often the problem lies within you, and only you. In the majority of cases, the problem is not a lack of money, but how you handle the money you actually receive, no matter how large or small the sum.
What is your actual spending pattern?
That should be your starting point, to free yourself from worry. Do you plan what you spend? I mean by planning your finances: do you set yourself a budget and stick with it? No matter what obstacles are thrown your way! And you spend only within your means.
Let’s look at what Mr Micawber from David Copperfield by Charles Dickens had to say.
“Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen pounds nineteen and six, result happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds ought and six, result misery."
Very droll and obvious; everyone knows that statement by Mr, Micawber, but nevertheless, the words are still a magnificent truism. Worry, illness, high blood pressure, bad temper, and all the other negative adjectives you could use against temper, are real to us, and we need to control and take responsibility for our own actions. I have heard people say.

“I don’t worry about money, it’s not important to me.”

That may or may not be the case, but what they are actually saying is: I don’t worry about it until in knocks me in the face, and my past spending habits have placed me up against a brick wall.”
Our politicians behave in the same way; little wonder large tracts of the population follow. The world has changed greatly since Mr. Micawber’s time. If he were around today, he'd be astonished at the size of the government’s trade deficit, and with the way people live their lives, which is well beyond their financial means. In Europe and in America, until now, they have prospered. Credit has become the new God, the elixir of life, but the road is now at an end. So where do we go from here?
For starters, we are at last back to reality, and many are now forced to spend only within their budget. For others, it is already too late, bankruptcies are up several fold, and for them, the only way out is insolvency, but, and here is where the light shines. They have an opportunity to start again, and hopefully, not to make the same mistakes.
They are now forced by circumstance to live within their means; credit is barred to them. Indeed, in today’s difficult market, credit is barred to most people, so having no credit line could well be a positive attribute for many people.
That leads me nicely on to the type of person you are when it comes to handling your finances. There are five categories in all: the evader, ambler, hoarder, splurger, and validator.

Which one are you?
Do you, when a bank statement lands through your letterbox, eagerly open it, add up the charges and interest payment? Or do you look at it with apprehension, pick up the letter unopened, as if it's toxic, and place in to one side for a few days until you feel in a better mood to confront.
Whether you delight or dread such moments says a lot about your personality when it comes to handing money. And for most people, the news is not that great.
Nearly 60% of us are Amblers. The type who drift through life not worrying about our bank balance, spend impulsively, and worry about the paying later, and only confront when bankruptcy looms, and when change is forced upon us. Not good for our well being, or our peace of mind, but still, we carry on, often until it’s too late.
Next, coming in at 24% are the Evaders. They avoid opening their bank statements, bin them, pretend they don’t exist, and live permanently in denial about the size of their debt, and you got it, they just carry on spending until forced to stop.
Next, at 13.80%, the Hoarders, who stash cash but live in fear of things going wrong. This often leads to continued anxiety, they always go for, “safe investments” which brings them little by way of return, and constantly they worry over money.
Penultimate, at 2% are the Validators, these people splash out to impress others or, to show off, to make them feel better.
Finally, at a measly, 0.2% the Splergers, who can’t help impulse buying on credit until they face financial ruin, and even then, it doesn’t always stop them, they are compulsive spenders, similar to a compulsive gambler or alcoholic.
The result of the survey concluded that as a nation we have little to no control over our finances. Money awareness in the population needs to sharpen tenfold; once you have worked out your finances, and the type of person you are, the starting line is then in front of you.
Now, take that first step to improve. Financial sanity, which largely means financial happiness, is to prepare a monthly budget, write it down, every detail of what you spend, even down to a newspaper, and compare it against your budget. If there is a variance, stop spending, no matter how much you think you may need something. Just don’t spend, go without. Money is important, and you should look upon it as such if you wish to lead a stress free life. Planning is everything when it comes to handling and managing your finances.
Summation
The survey sample was 1417 and researched by the Reader’s Digest.
The Ambler: A person who doesn’t worry in the least about the state of his finances until it comes and smacks him in the face, and is then forced to act.
The Evader: Constantly in denial about his level of debt, and will avoid opening mail until forced to confront, and even then still remain in denial of the true situation.
The Hoarder: Constantly worries over money, fears losing it, and is motivated to save and not spend.
The Splurger: Impulsive, often to destruction, will spend on a whim and worry about it later.
The Validator: Spends to show off and to improve his low self-esteem, sometimes even invests to demonstrate that he has money, purely for show.

Personal:

Where would I come into the list? Well, I do worry about the state of my finances, so Amber is out. Evader, I have little in the way of debt, none in fact, always pay off my credit cards every month, so that is out. I do not over spend, most definitely not, and I am more motivated towards saving than spending, and I always open my statements immediately check and file them if correct.
Again, I defiantly not a Splurger. I never buy on a whim, I sleep on every decision first, and even then, I take another night's sleep before I make a decision whether or not to buy. When I do decide, I scour the shops and Internet as to the best value, and purchase only that item. I rarely leave a tip when in a restaurant unless I get exceptional service, except sometimes when I'm forced to by my partner. (Sic!)
Validator, I never spend to show off, the exact opposite in fact, rather not spend at all if it can be avoided, and I never invest or spend to impress.
So I suppose, that makes me something of a Hoarder, the nearest to it in any event, but I do possess entrepreneurial tendencies as well, so the fit is far from perfect, but, as they say, the nearest fit will have to do. That’s life.
Where you are on the scale?
Now come on, be honest!
It’s your turn, go through the five categories. A tip: don’t just light on one and say, that’s where I am. Work by eliminating what you are not until you are left with just one category. Irrespective, if it’s not totally you, go for best fit out of the five.
Another quote from Dicken’s Mr. Micawber:
“Welcome poverty! Welcome misery, welcome houselessness, welcome hunger, rags, tempest, and beggary! Mutual confidence will sustain us to the end!”
Best if you don’t go there in the first place, so plan, and watch how you spend or that is where you could end up.
Don’t be too down hearted if you fail to live within your means, as Oscar Wilde (1854 – 1900) says. “Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination.” But you will go bankrupt, if you follow Wilde, your choice!

Why Don't We Vote?

2009-06-07T05:33:00.000-07:00

I partly, but not wholly agree with Elaine Morgan, who recently wrote an article in Wales Online.

“We’re quick to blame politicians, but aren’t we part of the problem?”

The way to change the situation is to change the political landscape, and then the problem with dissolve. Large parts of the electorate feel disenfranchised.

Power is in the hands of the few, with not enough power at the grass root level, and that must change. But to blame the electorate is a bit rich; this is where I disagree with Ms. Morgan. There is apathy towards our politics in this country, granted, because the ordinary citizen feels un-empowered.

Over the last few days, the number of people who told me they didn’t vote outnumbers the ones who did, five to one. When I asked why, most said very much the same thing.

“Politicians are corrupt, one or the other, they’re all the same, and only in it for themselves, couldn’t care a hoot for us, so why should I vote?”

We need a radical change in our Constitution, tinkering with an outdated system will get us nowhere. The Prime Minister should be elected directly by the people, the House of Lords should all be elected and have joint, equal power with the House of Commons. Our voting system needs to revolutionize radically, trust must come back into the system.

It’s wrong when a candidate, who gets less than 20% of the overall vote wins the seat, whereby most of the voting electorate voted against the candidate in aggregate. There should be a fixed election date, and it should not be down to the Prime Minister to make the decision.

We have lost trust in the present system and until that is restored nothing will change, the European Elections had a very low turnout, the local elections in England were equally as bad, labour loosing badly, which was to be expected given what has happened with this government. The population is angry.

We need to hold our politicians to account, and not let them run away from us as soon as they are elected. Gordon Brown, from what Caroline Flynn has said, runs an oligarchic Cabinet. We elect our MP to work for us, not for them to be told how to vote, with threatened expulsion by the Whip if they don’t comply.

Look at what the Europe Minister Caroline Flint had to say, accusing the Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, of using women as "female window-dressing" in his government, and quit her post in the Lords last Friday to be replaced by Glenys Kinnock, with the electorate having no say in the appointment. These people should be elected to the Lords, by the people, and it should be outside the gift of the Prime Minister, and they should only be there (if at all) as advisers to the elected representatives, which we, the people, elect. Not there unelected, to follow the whim of the Government.

Democracy must to be given back to the people. We, the electorate must feel our vote will make a difference. As it is at present, we feel ostracised from the political system in this country, and that must change, and MP’s must become more accountable to the people who elect them in the first place.

A Welsh Countryside

2009-06-07T04:58:00.000-07:00

A Welsh Countryside

WALES

Land of my Father

I look around at my surroundings:
Green hills, trees, mountains.
Old castle walls crumble.
In the darkness people fumble.
But oh the beauty of this country
Cannot be described with words.

The country holds on by a thread
The mines - most valley towns now dead.
More dole, more job losses, more dread
More people without a bed.
But oh the caress of a Welsh breeze
Create such memories.

Merry childhood days, in long grass,
Collecting worms in jars
Making rope swings on the trees
Going down the river Taff on dinghies.
These are the times which make us.
They are the memories which save us

I’ll always love this country I know,
But one day I will leave, to grow,
To spread my wings to take direction.
I need new life, not perfection.
Not droll day in and day out.
I want a job I can shout about

So Wales, please, dry your eyes.
You’re still beautiful to me, in my mind.
I'll hold you dear to my heart.
Until my death bed and life departs,
I will never forget the happiness
Of running in long grass.

By my daughter, Danielle Louise Tomkinson

A little treasure to me she is, and has cost me a treasure as well, but she's worth every penny.

Rainbow from "The Tour" Photo by "Flickr"

2009-06-03T09:14:00.000-07:00

RAINBOW OVER MULL, SCOTLAND

ROY TOMKINSON, Time - Time - Time - is moving back into creation and beyond

2009-06-03T03:02:00.000-07:00

Time is moving back, back to creation and beyond,

read the story in "The Tour, follow the adventure.

TIME

The air is still and cold

With caves and adventures, places

Where mystique holds sway

Tempting the strong and brave hearted

To explore the depths of time,

Hearts beat in unison

Almost to the rhythm

Of the winds in the caves

Whistling a solumn tune.

A warning signal

Of impending Doom.

The wind is strong now.

They force their way to hold time

From moving back into creation

And beyond

Not wanting them to see another day.

It tries - tries - to pull them

Back into oblivion

To death untimely.

Last breaths, last days, last nights,

No light. The sound of the wind

And the click, click, click as time

Moves back.

Poem, inside cover, From "The Tour" by Roy Tomkinson

Poem by Danielle Louise Tomkinson, his daughter

Glen More, Isle of Mull, Scotland

2009-06-03T02:54:00.000-07:00

The place, Mull Scotland, the book "The Tour" the time 1526, buy the book, follow the story.

Roy Tomkinson: Duart Castle

2009-06-03T02:34:00.000-07:00

Duart Castle Mull, Scotland, mentioned in my book "The Tour," looks really striking, lonely and cold, where Lanky, Jane, John and Susan end up, and need to fight their way back from the past - 1526 - to present day Mull, which starts a chain of events that threaten the existence of planet earth.

The land of Mull where the novel, "The Tour" is played out, Photo by "Flickr"

2009-06-03T02:18:00.000-07:00

THE TOUR, SALEM ISLE OF MULL, SCOTLAND

Boats at Salen, Isle of Mull, Scotland, In my novel, "The Tour" they take a boat to escape from the MacLeans, which starts a race to the death, only for them to realise, they have triggered something for more serious in their escape back to present day Mull.

Welsh Mountains

2009-06-03T01:57:00.000-07:00

Pyramid Peeks, by Flickr

WELSH MOUNTAINS

Notice the Reflections in the water.
Wow!