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Meg’s Diary: 19 Weeks

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19 Weeks: The beginning of this week was very disappointing. I took Meg back to the place we practise lead-walking, and she completely lost it. She was lurching at everything that moved. She’s too strong for me now, and I could barely control her, which was dangerous for her and meant I hurt my back and shoulder. Such a shame.

Meg also pooped in the house, which she never does. I am allowing her more freedom, and so was in the dining room, where there is a rug on the floor. The kitchen and hallway only have tiles, so maybe she thought the rug was grass, and therefore okay to toilet. Who knows? I cleaned it thoroughly, and moved the rug upstairs, and will be more careful in the future when carpets are available.

Other than those (fairly major) setbacks, Meg has been lovely. She’s such a happy little thing, and loves to play. She wags with her whole body, and reminds me of our Labrador when she wiggles towards me, with her ears back and some huge toy in her mouth, ready for a game. She’s also very naughty, and uses the cat flap to throw things outside that she knows she’s not allowed (like slippers, the rubber feet of the cat bed, and leaves from my houseplants).

I don’t quite know what to do with walking her on the lead. She’s great in the garden, if there are no distractions, and knows to walk beside me, barely pulling. But the first sign of a person or animal, and she’s off. I guess we’ll just keep practicing and hope the world becomes less exciting. There’s a seat in the High Street, and I’ve starting taking her there each day, to feed her a meal. She’s fully aware of the traffic and people passing, but she’s hungry, so stays with me, looking at my face, while I hand-feed her the food. I’m hoping in time we will progress to be able to walk up the High Street. Maybe 2026?

The Duck Incident

We were walking in the garden—my favourite thing to do with Meg—she’s so happy, and skips about collecting sticks while staying close to me as I walk around the garden. One of the ducks had left the pond enclosure and was sitting on the lawn. Unfortunately, Meg noticed before me. She was off before I could stop her, and any stick-waving-shouting-commands was completely useless. Meg is completely deaf once she fixes on something, and my poor white duck was fully fixed-upon!

The duck tried to escape, running into a bush, but Meg ploughed through it, trapping the duck between both paws. The duck dived over a paw, tried to force itself through the fence, ran around the enclosure. Meg was really enjoying the game now, and raced after it. I gave up trying to bribe/command/entice Meg and instead went to open the gate to the pond, deciding to at least help the duck if I couldn’t control my dog.

Meg pounced, trapping the duck between her paws again, the duck squiggled out, and rushed towards the gate, squeezed underneath and made a dive for the pond with Meg seconds behind it. With a final flurry of feathers, the duck flew onto the pond, Meg rushed to the edge of the bank and stopped. She stared for a moment at the duck, considering whether the water was as wet as it looked (she doesn’t like wet). Then, a miracle! her hearing returned—she picked up her stick and carried it to me for praise.

I closed the gate to the pond, and decided to give Meg a treat. Afterall, despite several opportunities, she had never used her mouth on the duck, and although it was at serious risk of being bounced, there was nothing vicious in the game. In time, I hope to teach Meg to help me round up escapee poultry—Kia was a brilliant help when a duck escaped and directed it back to the pond. It was less exciting than this encounter, but the principle was the same.

Thanks for reading. Take care.
Love, Anne x

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Why Did He Ask What They Wanted?

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As you know, I am currently writing the dissertation for my MA. One thing offered by my college is symposiums—nothing to do with music—where people present their work, and everyone makes helpful comments. They’re useful—partly because you hear some interesting presentations and everyone helps to improve the final dissertation—but also because writing a research paper is rather isolating. Lectures have finished, and we are all in our own bubble, and it’s really good to see each other again, and to hear how we are progressing.

Anyway, one happened last week, and one of the presenters (Rebecca—I can’t remember her last name) is writing a dissertation on people coping with health conditions, and she made a very interesting point: Before Jesus healed people in the New Testament, he often asked them what they wanted. Then the blind man said he wanted to see, and the lame man said he wanted to walk, and the lepers wanted to be clean—and so on. But why, if he was able to heal them, and already knew their complaint, did Jesus ask? Afterall, a blind man begging must have been obviously blind—did Jesus think perhaps he wanted to be blind? Or was something else going on?

It was suggested Jesus probably asked as a way to empower the person. They were choosing whether they wanted to be healed, able to voice their need. I found this very interesting, because it reminds me of a personal experience. Soon after being diagnosed with a brain tumour, I was at a church meeting, and when I spoke about my tumour and the constant pain, someone announced that they would pray for healing. I remained sitting, and the group stood around me, with their hands on my head, praying for healing.

Now, here’s the thing. I had not asked them to pray for healing. I was not at all sure that it was in God’s plan for me to be healed (because I recognised that I was a better person with the tumour, and daily asking him to help me was a good thing). But here I was, in the middle of a ring of very kind, well-meaning friends, praying for something that I didn’t know if I actually wanted. But I couldn’t really voice that—I couldn’t politely tell them ‘no thanks, I’m coping okay and I’m not sure it’s in the plan for me to be healed,’ could I? A bit awkward. So silently, in my head, I changed the prayer. You see, there were other, more important things that I was struggling with, and I felt as if I was sinking and really wanted/needed God’s help with those. And although I had prayed about them, I wondered if perhaps, in some way that I didn’t understand, God was more likely to act if these people all prayed on my behalf. So in my head, I asked God to use their prayers to please help me with this other thing, this non-health-issue thing, and could he please heal that instead?

I cannot justify the theology of this. Nor do I know whether those prayers were the trigger for God to answer my prayer. But he did. And my life would be worse today if he hadn’t.

Maybe sometimes, people praying for healing for others might not necessarily be what their greatest need is. Perhaps we should remember that often Jesus asked before he healed people. I find it rather thrilling that God doesn’t just know what we need, he listens to what we think we need too. Perhaps learning to walk with God—learning to be like God—is about listening to other people and understanding their needs rather than what we assume their needs are. Sometimes, we need to ask.

Thanks for reading. Have a great week.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com

*****

One Life

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(Spoiler Alert!)
We went to the cinema this week—I haven’t been to the cinema with Husband for years. I had forgotten how chatty he is. Our local cinema is very nice, with fairly small theatres, and nice comfy chairs, and they offer a menu of food and drink, which they bring to the seat. I think perhaps it was too much like watching telly at home, because Husband gave me a running commentary on every advert (and there were lots) just like at home. Mainly he discussed how many adverts there were, and how misleading the ‘start time’ had been, and how he was ready to leave now, he’d watched enough. It was a lot like I had taken Meg with me (how did I manage to choose an antsy dog and an antsy husband? You would think I would learn!)

He ordered a coffee, which perhaps didn’t calm him down, but did give him something else to talk about. It was, apparently, very good coffee, but probably not worth the price.

The film began, and the commentary next to me stopped (thankfully). The film is very well made, with actors who make you believe in them, and the story is wonderful—about an ordinary man who manages to import lots of Jewish children before the war begins.

I was struck by two things. Firstly, I hadn’t realised what a complete cut-off the declaration of war was. I had assumed, because the Nazis were gradually moving across Europe, that travel between countries had gradually ceased. But it wasn’t like that at all. Access to much of Europe, including Germany, was possible for normal people with a visa right up until war was declared—and then it all stopped instantly. Hence there were British people in places like Czechoslovakia right up until the day we declared war—and they then had to leave pretty fast before the borders closed.

The other thing that struck me, was that the hero of the film was just a normal man. He wasn’t a great campaigner, not a particularly charismatic  figure; he was just a banker. He was ‘good with paperwork.’ Yet his skills managed to save hundreds of children, because he was passionate about what he was doing. There is a lesson here. None of us can say there’s nothing we can do, because we all have skills. Whether it’s admin, or teaching, or baking cakes—I bet there’s something you’re good at. The challenge is how are you using it? Is there a way that your skill can help other people? Because surely, that is what life, real life, is all about.

Of course, there were lots of other ‘heroes’ in the film who hardly appeared. Some families took Jewish children, and cared for them for life. That takes some courage, a bit of risk-taking and a lot of stamina. They weren’t part of the film though, they were barely mentioned. Sometimes the real heroes are the ones who we don’t notice.

I definitely recommend you try to see One Life. But do try to go with someone quiet.

Thanks for reading. Have a good week, and take care.
Love, Anne x

Thanks for reading.
anneethompson.com
*****

Puppy Classes

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Puppy Classes

A friend invited me to puppy classes. It’s at a farm I didn’t know, so I shoved Meg in the car the day before, and we went for a reconnaissance. It’s lucky I did. The farm is up a dark lane, and is bisected by a dirt track used by lorries working at the quarry, which looms to one side in a very scary manner. We managed to not drive into the quarry, but also to not to find the farm, so I contacted my friend, and she agreed to meet me there.

At 7pm, we set off. Driving in the dark is not my favourite thing, so getting there was an adventure, especially as the roads were icy. But we made it. The next adventure was walking to the barn, through a stable of horses. Meg was great, and walked past them with interest, but no barking. Then we entered the barn, and all went to pot. There were other dogs, and Meg decided that snarling and barking was completely appropriate (because she is a German Shepherd dog, and that is what they do). The other dogs mostly ignored her, and the owners gave me sympathetic smiles. All the other dogs were older/better behaved/already perfectly trained in comparison. The barn had thick sand on the floor, and I assume is where the horses are trained.

The trainer met me, and expressed surprise that I had bought a working breed of gsd. I told her that most of the litter had gone to the police, and she asked why Meg had been sold as a pet. I wanted to explain that actually, she has improved loads since I have had her, and I have absolute belief that one day she will be great. But the last few weeks have been undeniably tough, so I said nothing. She told me that Meg would always want to work, always be completely hyper, and would be very difficult to control. I already know this. I also know that she is brave, and happy and incredibly friendly, and when she remembers that I exist, she is good company and lots of fun. The rest we will work on.

The trainer switched my dog lead for a sort of double one—clipped onto Meg’s collar and to her harness. She then directed me to walk round the barn, using the double lead like reins leading a horse. We made it round the barn a few times, though I’m not sure who was leading who. It was much easier to control Meg though, and I didn’t feel like my arm might be pulled off, which is how it usually feels.

We then all had to stand in a big circle, and tell our dogs to sit. Meg sat (I felt stupidly proud). The trainer showed me how to use a toy to play, stop, play, stop—keeping Meg occupied so she stopped concentrating on the other dogs. The other dogs all had to practice lying down when commanded, and then sitting still while their owned left them, walked round a cone, and returned. I wanted to tell the trainer that Meg can do this too—and in fact I can tell her to sit while I go upstairs with a load of washing, and she won’t move. But at the time, she was turning in circles like a wild thing and eating as much sand as she could get into her mouth, so I decided we would continue with the task we had been given.

By the end of the lesson, Meg was able to play with the toy while all the other dogs and owners walked past us. It was actually a strangely bonding activity. I felt like Meg and I were a team, working together while the rest of the class was one step ahead of us. (More than one step, probably!) As we left the barn, Meg decided to bark at the horses, and then at my friend’s dog, so it wasn’t a complete success. But it was an excellent first lesson, and hopefully we will improve. And eat less sand.

Thanks for reading. Take care.
Love, Anne x

Meg’s Diary — 18 weeks

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18 Weeks

Having a puppy is a lot like having a new baby. One similarity is that the whole world has an opinion about how you should be raising them. Complete strangers will give their views. Another similarity is that all the ‘expert’ advice tends to contradict. For example, I need to find a way to stop Meg fixating on passing cars and lurching at them when they pass. It’s dangerous. I looked online for help. One ‘expert teacher’ said that the prey-instinct is very strong in some dogs, therefore I should discourage all chasing. No chasing cats, sticks, balls, toys. Eventually, I will supress the instinct. Great. Sorted. Except, a different ‘expert’ told me that because I want to stop her chasing cars, I need to encourage the prey-instinct in other areas—so lots of games with balls, sticks, toys. (Though not cats; chasing cats is always wrong.)

I think it’s important to do what I did when I had babies: choose one or two people to trust, and follow their advice but ignore everyone else. I suspect different things work for different dogs, but the advice-givers are so certain they are correct. It undermines my confidence (just like when I had a new baby).

I therefore decided to trust myself (which is important, because I have raised/trained two wonderful dogs previously, plus taught a myriad of naughty boys with ADHD, which is not so very different). I also messaged the woman who is raising Meg’s sister as a pet, and listened to her advice, plus a couple of trusted people. I have also enrolled in ‘puppy classes’ but this is mainly to socialise Meg, because I know from past experience that dog trainers also offer varying advice.

One thing I started to try this week, was regular walking near a busy road where Meg can be slightly removed from the traffic. In our country lane, every passing car comes very close to pedestrians, which must seem like a taunt to a shepherding dog. My plan is for her to get so used to traffic at a distance, that she will gradually cope as they become nearer. I also stopped trying to bribe her good behaviour with food, because it doesn’t work, and the woman raising her sister said a tug-toy works really well as a training bribe. Off we set.

I parked at a little station car park (near enough that Meg didn’t vomit in the car—another issue I need to solve). We set off, walking round the residential streets, near a main road but not on it. Meg was great, glancing at cars on the main road, but not trying to chase them. We gradually went nearer. Eventually, we were walking on the path beside the road. Meg was great, for about 2 minutes, then decided the cars were too much, and started to lurch towards them. We went back home.

The following day, we repeated the exercise, and Meg was much better. She walked holding a tug-toy (which is my toy, she is never allowed to play with it by herself—a tip from my father-in-law). She held the toy the entire way, making sure I couldn’t take it from her—which is still bad behaviour, but much less bad than chasing cars, and I am all for compromise. We walked about 400 metres , turned round, walked back to the station. A train of school kids had arrived, so the walk back involved walking past school bags, and lots of legs, and even boys bouncing a football. Meg was great (if you don’t include the fact that she thought she had stolen my toy and was concentrating on not giving it back!) This will now be a daily activity, and gradually, as the traffic stops being an issue, I will be more fussy about who carries the toy.

As Meg has grown, she has become too heavy for me to keep lifting in and out of the car, but big dogs need protecting when they are young, as too much stress on their joints can result in arthritis when they are old. I therefore bought a ramp. It arrived, and I attached it to the boot, and directed Meg to walk up it. She looked at me like I was stupid, and sat down. I tried tempting her with food, so she barked at me. Carried the ramp into the house and leant it against a stair, so the incline was very shallow. Meg walked up it, ate the treat, walked down it. I made it steeper, and she walked up it. I repeated the exercise, until it was the same incline as the car boot. Then I took it outside, and attached it to the car. Meg looked at me as if I thought she was daft, and sat down. But then, gradually, I persuaded her up the ramp, gave her a treat, down the ramp. We did this a few times until she was walking up and down confidently. I love this about Meg—if I find the right way to teach her, she is incredibly quick to learn.

Hope you stay safe on the roads this week. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com
*****

*****

Meg’s Diary–weeks 16 & 17

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16 Weeks

We took Meg to Camber Sands. She was sick in the car (she is always sick in the car). It was really windy, and walking to the beach involved lots of sand being blown into eyes, which she wasn’t keen on. When we finally made it to the beach, she just stopped—all four paws firmly planted—and stared at everything.

We started to walk, and she was very good—interested in everything but not frightened, even when other dogs approached her wanting to play. We kept her on the lead, because if she decided to run off we would never catch her, and I don’t trust her with other animals.

She hates having wet feet, and tried to go backwards when we walked on the wet sand! Totally unimpressed by the sea, much too wet.

We only walked for about 30 minutes (I am still protecting her joints) but she was exhausted afterwards. It’s the first time I have seen her properly tired. She slept all the way home.

We also left her for a night. My daughter and son-in-law kindly agreed to have her, so we took Meg and her playpen, toys and food to Coulsdon. She was completely unfussed by being left. Daughter said she was mostly very good, though she did check with Daughter whenever son-in-law told her something, to see whether she needed to obey or not! They found a water-squirter was a good deterrent for going on the sofa, so I will copy that.

The worst thing about Meg is her insistence on chasing cars. It’s very dangerous as she gets stronger, because she fixates on them, and then lurches with all her strength. She is also terrible on the lead, and pulls very hard. It’s a lot like being behind a dog-sleigh, but without the sleigh. Daughter said they tried all sorts of treats, but nothing really distracted her from the cars, even though they were further away than when she encounters them in the lane. It’s a problem we need to fix.


17 Weeks

Meg is mostly very good now, though her energy exhausts me. She has also become very disobedient about coming when called, but as she’s bigger, I don’t worry about leaving her in the garden for a little while, so I just shut her out (which she hates, and tries to squeeze through the cat flap!)

I bought a ‘halti’ lead. It has a nose muzzle-thing, and the lead attaches to this, so if she pulls it turns her head. We practiced wearing it for short periods in the house, and then used it to walk on the field. Meg hates it, and tries to remove it, but it stops her pulling and lurching at cars. I am hoping it will break the cycle of strong pulling, so we can stop using it after a while. I am also taking her into the garden regularly, with treats and no distractions, to practice walking to heel. She is good until she loses concentration (about 4 minutes). After that, it’s not worth trying.

Not keen
Learning to cope

She has got very tall and thin. I am increasing her food, and adding meat to the kibble. I assume it’s just a lanky growing phase. She moved out of her little crate for sleeping this week, as we decided it’s now too small. She mainly seems to sleep on her back, with all four legs stretched out. She snores like a trooper! Not very elegant (nor is it very scary-police-dog!) She still sleeps on folded towels. At some point I will buy her a bed, but she would eat it currently. I also cannot leave her with a bowl of water, because after drinking she flings it round the room. I have to give her drinks, and then remove the bowl. She managed to get her lead, which was a mistake…

Not so useful.

The breeder puts regular videos on Facebook of her training her own puppies. I try to copy some of the exercises with Meg. She’s good unless there’s a distraction. What I really need to find is a competition for grabbing a sock out of the tumble-dryer and racing up the garden with it—we would win that for certain! I do feel that she’s trying to fit in though. When we load the dishwasher, she collects her chew and dumps it in, like she’s trying to help, which is very sweet. She’s also a happy little thing, and loves to join in when I dance to the radio, running circles round me with her toy. She’s very friendly when we meet people, and greets all the gardeners (at face-height) with wagging tail and licks—which is not exactly ‘calm’ but at least she’s confident and friendly. Hopefully this will last—but in a calmer manner.

Hope you are making progress with your latest project. I must say, writing my dissertation is MUCH easier than puppy training.
Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Learning to cope with a new puppy takes many forms…

Meg’s Diary, 12–15 weeks

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12 Weeks

Still have a muddle of feelings about Meg—mainly that she has made life so much more complicated, and she doesn’t even seem to like me! Occasionally she will crawl onto my lap when I’m sitting on the floor, or follow me when I am cooking, chewing her toys and watching me, and I feel genuine affection. But mostly, as she knocks something over, or destroys a seat cushion, or bites my clothes, I feel cross. I cannot trust her in the kitchen alone, so I either have to be in there, guarding everything, or she has to be in her large pen with her toys—which she is beginning to resent.

She is still terrible with the other animals, and chases them if she can (so she is mostly on the lead when they are out). The cats are getting used to her, and Milly will even follow us at a distance, because she knows she can outrun Meg.

She is super-fast at learning things (if I have the mental energy to teach her). For a treat she likes (mince) she will sit, wait, shake hands, fetch a ball and put it into my hand. She’s not too sure about walks, and tries to stop us leaving the driveway (she uses all four paws as a brake, and I end up dragging her). She usually looks quite happy when we get to the field, and walks relatively well, then tries to drag me all the way home. She absolutely hates being hosed afterwards (but she’s covered in mud, so it’s the only option).

I have been out a couple of evenings, and a friend has come and let her out. Meg has been fine with this—which is one good thing about a confident puppy. I think going into kennels wouldn’t phase her at all. Nothing seems to.

13 Weeks

Walking on the lead is still a nightmare, and hurts my shoulder. When there are two of us, the ‘pack-instinct’ kicks in, and she will walk with us, trying to keep up with the ‘leader’. But on her own it’s just hard work. She stops, leaps, grabs the lead or pulls as hard as she can. By the time we have walked a short loop, I am exhausted (and not particularly kind when I hose the mud off her, which she hates, but I am so angry by that time that I take a sadistic pleasure in giving her a thorough wash).

Cutting her nails is also not going well. All the books suggest playing with her feet, regularly touching her paws/nails and giving treats until it becomes ‘normal.’ This has never worked. Meg will offer me her paw when asked (in return for food) but she snatches it away in an instance. Trying to ‘play’ with her paws results in biting. I have therefore been quickly clipping a single nail after sneaking up on her when she’s sleeping, and then trying to remove clippers/fingers from her mouth. It has not felt like victory. Therefore this week, we resorted to the two-man method. Husband pinned her down, and while she was immobile, I trimmed her nails. She started to make all sorts of fuss, so we started to sing, very loudly, the rousing hymn: ‘And can it be, that I should gain…’ This always worked with screaming babies, they were shocked into silence. Seems it also works with angry puppies! The bad quality of our singing, plus the volume, made her completely freeze. I need to share this tip with the people who write the dog obedience books—nothing else seems to work.

14 Weeks

Jay came home this week, and said Meg is lots calmer than when he last saw her. This gives me hope. Though I seriously consider rehoming her almost every day. She is still too much for me.

I have taken her into town a couple of times. I park in Waitrose, and we walk from the car to the front of the shop, then to the chip shop in the High Street, and back to the car. It takes about 30 minutes. Most puppies would be scared of the cars, the sliding doors of the shop, the trolleys, the number of people. Not Meg. She tries to attack everything, bouncing with all four feet. She is delighted if someone greets her, and lurches madly, trying to chase the cars, and the people, and the trolleys. I tried taking various treats, and bribing her to concentrate on me. No chance. She is completely distracted and just wants to chase everything. I will keep trying. Maybe it will become boring eventually, and she will listen to me.

The only thing I have ever known her to be wary of is a lorry, which stopped to ask directions. As the massive wheels stopped next to us, she moved back, and when it left, she didn’t try to chase it. But that’s it—giant lorries but nothing else. She would have been a brilliant army dog.

15 Weeks

Meg has been great this week, and I now feel thoroughly bonded (no more thoughts of rehoming). It has been a difficult road, but we have learnt each other sufficiently that life has settled into a mutual understanding. The puppy understands that evenings here are boring. Absolutely nothing happens after 6pm, so there’s no point in trying to make things exciting, may as well settle into crate for the evening with a chew to gnaw. In return, I try to exercise her brain and body several times during the day.

She is getting better with the animals—and I no longer try to clean them out while she is with me (way too stressful). Each morning, Milly (the cat) comes in, jumps onto the work surface, and I feed her and Meg something tasty (a tin of tuna if I don’t have anything better). Meg has learnt that if she jumps up, the cat slaps her face. She has also learnt—because they are fed together, and the cat always comes first—that the cat belongs here, and therefore whilst bouncing perhaps cannot be helped, biting is clearly wrong. In return, the cat sometimes follows us round the garden, and although she has been bounced a few times, she stays near enough to be part of life. A good start.

The cockerel has also asserted himself, and not been killed, and both are now relatively wary of each other, but neither show aggression—which is as much as I can hope for at this stage. We are getting there.

Over Christmas, Meg had lots of interaction with the family. She’s very friendly, and loves everyone, but also showed some obedience when people were firm with her. Whilst her behaviour is still ‘naughty’ she does now obey commands, and we are able to tell her things rather than physically force her off chairs, into her crate, etc. As I feed her in the crate, and all her toys are in there, she sees it as a nice place to be rather than a punishment, which is good.

Meg was at her best on the 28th December. We had the whole extended family here for games and supper. Meg stayed in her big crate, which is in the kitchen, right next to where highly competitive family members were pretty much shouting at each other and squealing and generally being very noisy. Meg was completely comfortable, watching with interest, and showing no nerves at all. I felt very pleased with her.

We have just returned from a walk with Bridie (older dog in the family). After an initial silly barking fit and showing of teeth, Meg realised that Bridie was completely unimpressed, and then walked next to her, round the park, meeting a few other dogs on the way. Whilst she pulled on the lead the whole time, she did very well with other dogs, and was much better with passing cars, and definitely seemed to be watching Bridie and learning from her. Another success.

Hope you have some success too this week. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

A Treat in the Cotswolds

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I woke at 6, took the dog for a quick run in the garden, then showered, threw a few things into a bag, and was ready to leave at 7:15. We went to my daughter’s house first, as she had kindly (madly?) offered to have the puppy for a couple of days. We dumped the dog, bags of food and toys and a playpen, then off we went, heading west.

Our first stop was The White Horse pub in Forest Hill. On our wedding day, in 1988, we left Surrey and drove to the Cotswolds for our honeymoon, but on the way, we stopped at a pub for dinner. Neither of us can remember anything about it, except that we ate chicken in mustard sauce, and I remember being very excited because I was married and I wanted to tell everyone in the pub, but I didn’t, and it felt very odd that no one knew such a significant fact. We found the name in Husband’s diary in the loft, and decided to visit, to see if it stirred any memories. We sort of remembered the car park, but nothing else. But then, it was a long time ago. It’s a Thai restaurant now.

We continued to Bibury, and lunch in The Catherine Wheel. It was pouring with rain, so we didn’t stop to walk around Bibury. I recognised the pretty cottages next to the river, but I couldn’t remember the trout farm (which Husband assured me we visited). It was busy, with coaches of tourists and lots of cars. It must be strange to live somewhere like that.

We stayed at Barnsley House. Just one night, but it still felt like a holiday. Our room was fabulous, with a whole sitting area, and facilities to make drinks. They had provided a tiny carton of fresh milk, and a jar of cookies, and apples in a bowl. I like when they provide free stuff, it feels more welcoming that a sign telling you to pay £1 for a coffee capsule!

We drove around the Cotswolds, looking at places we remembered from our honeymoon. We looked at the cottage we stayed in (it has a new extension now, but looks much the same) and I bought a toothbrush at an unfriendly village shop. (Not sure how I managed to forget my bathroom bag!)

The weather was still wet, so we had drinks and watched a film. We could have used the ‘cinema’ at the hotel, but it was nicer in the room. We did dress in wet-weather gear and wander round the grounds. There was a spa (I think this is a feature of the hotel) so we went to have a look. There was an outside pool, with women drinking cocktails in bubbly water. I peeked at them through a bush, and decided I can think of little worse than being at a spa! There was a sign offering various ‘treatments’ but as I stood there, in my wellies and bobble hat, I felt it wasn’t really for me. (Husband compared me to Compo in Last of the Summer Wine, so I don’t think he imagined me sipping cocktails in a jacuzzi either!)

Not really a spa person!

Dinner was marvellous. We dressed up, though we didn’t need to, it was very relaxed. There wasn’t a taster menu, but the food was delicious, with lots of fresh vegetables and interesting flavours. I drank too much wine, and got the giggles, and it was a lovely evening. Such a treat to only have to walk upstairs after dinner, and not to drive home.

We ate a huge breakfast, and then went for a walk. It was really muddy, and I worried I might lose a boot in the boggy bits, but it wasn’t raining. We walked beside a stately home (Barnsley Palace) and wondered what it would be like to live there (cold, I expect). Then we packed up, and drove back to collect Meg and go home. It was so lovely, and just what I needed after all the Christmas busyness.

I hope you manage to plan some treats too. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Epiphany

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Hello, and how are you? Christmas has finished, the decorations are (mostly) down, and the Christmas tree is in the chicken cage (because apparently the needles have lots of nutrients that are good for poultry). It was also Epiphany on Sunday.

In my church, Epiphany marks when the wise men visited Jesus—I understand other churches give it different significance. The story of the ‘three kings’ is one I find difficult; it grates on me. Perhaps it’s because it is the part of the Nativity story that is more legend than biblical ‘fact.’ Though to be frank, much of what is discussed, sung about, portrayed and celebrated at Christmas is quite a stretch from the Bible story.

No one even knew how many kings there were until the sixth century, when someone in Alexandria wrote a Greek manuscript about them. Their names sound definite, but were added to fit the image, not part of the biblical account. They certainly would have arrived much later in the Nativity story, Jesus was probably a toddler given the response of Herod—perhaps Jesus even spoke to the kings, or played with them. My two-year-olds would certainly have not been passive during such a visit.

Somehow, the story in the book of Matthew (chapter 2) doesn’t quite fit with my image of a lowly birth, and it leaves me with lots of questions—did the neighbours not notice the arrival of rich travellers, and did they just forget about it afterwards or was there a big fuss? What happened to the gifts? How much gold was actually given, and did Jesus keep it, or did his parents spend it? Was the myrrh ever used to anoint Jesus? Was the frankincense kept until Jesus died, and it used to embalm him when they wrapped the body? And what happened to the ‘kings’? Did they return home and forget about Jesus, or did it change them, did they tell people (like the shepherds did) and did they even understand what happened?

There are also lots of questions about how they got there—they ‘saw a star’ so I presume they were astrologers, reading the stars to understand the world—which seems distinctly dodgy and in fact, they nearly caused Herod to kill Jesus, which suggests they shouldn’t have been relying on their predictions. It wasn’t until someone looked ‘in the Scriptures’ that they found Jesus. Why did God stop them returning to Herod but allowed them to go to Jerusalem in the first place—when it resulted in the death of so many babies? Were the dead Jewish babies just collateral damage? Is that not horribly cruel, and surely not justified by simply fulfilling a prophecy?

However, the story is in the Bible, so I feel I must take it seriously. It is there for a reason. (I was challenged recently, when struggling to decide if a text was ‘true’ and I was asked whether, if the Bible is God’s word, its purpose is to provide ‘true’ accurate facts like a diary or history book, or whether its primary purpose is to change me.) It surely matters not what we know about the story, but rather what we learn from the story. What does it show us?

*It shows that Jesus’ birth was a global event, not restricted to the locality of his birth. *Even foreigners could worship him. *It coincided with ‘something big’ in the universe. *There is a lot in Scripture about God loving the poor, but this is an example where rich people could bring something of value as part of their worship. *God is able to use ‘supernatural powers’ to ensure we hear what is really important—so going to the wrong place was allowed by God (though don’t ask me why!) but returning to Herod afterwards was clearly stopped, and the astrologers were in no doubt which way to travel.

These are things I can learn from. God did not confine himself to the Jews. God uses poor people and rich people to further his kingdom. I don’t need to worry about ‘not hearing’ God—if something is important he will make it clear.

I still have lots of questions, but perhaps I need to focus more on what I can learn, perhaps I mainly need to ask: how might this change me?

Thanks for reading. Have a great week.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com

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Feeling Down?

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Hello, and thank you for starting the new year reading my blog.

I had written a perky little blog, full of chat and giggles–but actually, when I thought about it, it felt like lying. Because at this time of year, after all the work of Christmas (yes, I know it’s fun, and special, but it is also lots of work) I always feel down. It’s the anniversary of my father’s death, the weather is usually grey, and I am deeply tired. The core of me is sad. I want to crawl into bed and stay there until Spring. But I can’t. Life goes on.

So, if you share these feelings–if you too struggle a bit after Christmas–know that you are not alone. Understand that no one can feel happy all the time, and the low times are part of us just as much as the enthusiastic times. Know that it will pass. Because everything passes in time, even the bleakness. And sometimes, when we look back, we realise that the valleys are as beautiful as the mountains.

Thanks for reading. Live your week well, because however you feel, we only have one life and living it well matters.

Love, Anne x

The valleys can be as beautiful as the mountains.

anneethompson.com
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