January 23rd, 2017


Rereading Dolores Cannon

I've started re-reading Dolores Cannon's Convoluted Universe. There are five books in the series. I wolfed them down on a first reading last year and now I'm going to pay more attention and try to get the over-all picture fixed in my mind. Cannon- who died in 2014-  was a hypnotherapist who got into reincarnation and life between lives. And then things became really weird- with clients remembering lives as aliens and angels and all sorts. Gradually an history of the world- and universe- emerged- somewhat different from the orthodox scientific account or the orthodox religious one. If the material they contain is true these have to be among the most important books ever written.

Cold, Cold, Cold...

Another morning of heavy frost. Nice to look at, unkind to poor old arthritic bones. The churned up mud around the water butts is now frozen- and as hard as rock- and the danger is not that you're going to lose a boot but that you'll slip off a ridge and twist your ankle.

Disgusting On Every Level

The ship the misfiring Trident missile was launched from is called HMS Vengeance. What a foul name!

Theresa May says she totally believes in the Trident system. How can she? Does she think we're stupid?

It is scandalous that parliament was asked to agree to a renewal of the system without being told about the time one of the missiles went wobbling off in the direction of a friendly power.

I'm hearing that in adopting the Trident system we signed an agreement with the manufacturers and the US government to keep everything to do with it extremely hush-hush- including, of course, how bloody useless it is. Who would sign such a servile and antidemocratic agreement? Our servile and antidemocratic leaders, of course.

Note, by the way, that we don't make the disgusting things ourselves. And they call it an "independent deterrent".


Earlier this evening I rooted in the drawer for a card to send a friend and picked out one with a picture of a wren on the front which tweets birdsong at you when you open it.

About an hour later I looked up from my computer and saw something fly across the kitchen. I went to investigate and found a little bird sitting high up on a bookcase. I opened the patio doors and gently persuaded it to leave. And, yes, it was a wren.

Like calls to like, events tend to clump together, it doesn't particularly mean anything...