Don’t fret, I haven’t disappeared, I have been doing this ‘work’ thing.  I have a long list of topics to blog on, just no time to do it.  Coming soon (hopefully) I shall give views and thoughts on such hot potatoes as:

The redefinition of marriage in the UK
Parenting (men who are boys)
The many meanings of the cross
Spiritual disciplines
The Differences Betwixt Males and Females: Part C (asking for help)
Modern western persecution
Family life, and
The benefits of post run stretching.

In the mean time, I am taking notes and typing up what I can.  If there is anything you’d like me to ponder upon, please drop me a line.

TTFN,

MrTheKidd

So a P.S. because this just made me laugh.

Yesterday I was sitting in the kitchen with Doris eating lunch. Quite rarely her dad was also there and was talking. Most of the time I didn’t actually know what either of them were saying, but it was also hard to concentrate due to the potential health hazard that was occurring.

The room had a couple of flies buzzing about with evil intent.

Alfonzo is not a lover of flies. His main methods of fly murder are:

-swatting them with his hand
-swatting them with a towel
-spraying them with some random stuff

On this day he was using the hand and towel methods.

As I was eating the flies were generally interested in my place.

Alfonzo’s hands are literally the same size as my face.

As I tried to eat and attempted to understand the conversation going on around me, I also spent a fair amount of time ducking the incoming hand as it swooped towards my face on several occasions.

I thought I was handling this remarkably well and my composure was intact until Alfonzo made contact with a fly which set off the following chain of events:

Alfonzo hits fly
Fly skims across the room and bounces off of Doris’s roll
Fly lands on her plate
This makes Doris jump
Doris leaps up, screams, swipes her hands out
Her hand comes into contact with her roll
Her rolls flies into my face
I jump back and scream
I knock most of my food off the table

Conversation resumes as before.

I still don’t understand most of what is being said.

Sigh.

Related articles

• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 1 (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 2 (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 3 (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 4 – The Day of the Poo (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 5 – Don’t Touch Anything! (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)

*names have been changed to protect Becky from harm.

Wot ho, wot ho,

Well how are we all?

Well that’s enough of that nonsense, back to me.

I can’t believe we’ve been here two weeks now. Final week countdown, this time next Monday I’ll be home and probably freezing cold!.

I have given up trying to work out Tinkerbell’s routine/lack thereof; she is a tiny mystery full of smiles and vomit. Instead I wake up if I’m needed or at 6am regardless and if needed play with the infant for a while before handing her back over to someone else to go and change into non-covered-in-vomit clothing and head out into the sun. But not like an intrepid explorer or cowboy, no, more like a pasty English girl desperate for the warm rays of a giant ball of gas. (fret not – suntan lotion is being used and I have not been burnt once although I am allergic to one of the sun lotions I got here, story to follow, dun dun duuuun).

Soooo, when last I left you, Doris and I were off to the cinema. And what an error of judgement I made in suggesting we watch the new Adam Sandler film ‘Jack and Jill’ rather than choosing ‘Safehouse’ or The Muppets. Sigh. It is awful (see photo if I’m able to attach it – I can’t…so never mind). I did laugh a bit but mostly was just confused by Al Pachino (whose name I have not a clue how to spell), who appears to hate his career and is trying to find ways to end it.

Prior to watching the film we wandered about a few shops (TOO MUCH SHOPPING IN SUCH A SHORT SPACE OF TIME, ARG!) and in the front of one they were selling giant teddy bears. Doris suggested I go and sit with them and she take a photo. Well…it turns out I’m open to suggestion so I sat down and held one with a look of melancholy on my face. Doris look a photo and then began to giggle. I was puzzled until I turned around and saw the security guard walking over, looking reeeaaaally confused. I attempted to explain but really, what explanation is there? My muttering skills kicked in and I believe I said to the poor woman:

‘Iwastakingaphotowiththebearbecauseitseemedfunny…’

And then I left the shop hurriedly.

On Saturday we were booked in to get a haircut. My hair, despite best efforts with washing up liquid, still resembled an oil slick. In fact when I woke up that morning I found a seagull struggling to get out of it and a final warning letter from Greenpeace . 

Anyhoo, off we trotted to this lady’s house for our haircuts. The lady in question has a name but rather awkwardly I forgot it instantly on hearing it. We shall call her ‘the hairdresser’. The hairdresser had built (or more likely hired others to build) a salon in her garden…gardens here are quite large. Our appointment was booked for 10.30. When we arrived there were four older women being seen. All were getting blond highlights…NONE WERE SMILING.

Alfonzo walked in and exchanged niceties with the hairdresser who is a friend of Doris’s family. She greeted Doris fondly and then looked at me…before turning away and going back to one of the clients. I’m pretty used to this by now and for some reason, I never even try to introduce myself. Mostly because people on this continent can’t hear me because I’m a figments of a 5 month’s old imagination, but also because I just get embarrassed. Later on Doris did introduce us but she was feeling just as awkward with the older ladies of doom staring us out. I decided to go and sit in the garden and enjoy the sun.

We were finally called in at 12.30 (turns out there was usually a girl helping but she was sick, hence the wait) by which time my stomach was rumbling and I was pretty bored. Doris’s hair looked fabulous when finished…she also went for the blond highlights. I have stuck with my ginger/grey locks. What an attractive combination.

All this time I’d kept my hair pinned up because of the potential for environmental damage. The hairdresser said she’d be done by 2. Doris said ‘yeah, even with the length of Becky’s hair?’. At which point I released the kraken, let down Rapunzel’s hair, un-pinned my hair. Sadly the dramatic effect was lost and the hairdresser didn’t notice as her cousin walked in at just that moment with her little boy (EVERYONE HERE IS RELATED!)

The little boy was called Chip (and probably still is)…I honestly thought that name only happened in American teen books. He was 6 and as that is my nephew’s age and I like the tiny humans I set about befriending him. This came to fruition when Doris and I showed them our touch screen phones (people don’t really use them at all here). I lent mine to Chip. But Chip…Chip is a child of almost epically filthy hands, and I have never seen my screen that blurry following his excited use of my phone…it had grit on it. I don’t even know how you manage that but then I have never been a six year old boy so maybe it is easier for them?

Finally it was my turn to get my haircut. By this time all the older ladies of grumpy doom had left and in their place about 5 younger people had turned up. Once my hair was washed and I sat down to get it cut I could see them all in the mirror looking at me…just staring, no expressions, just…staring.

I felt like a deer about to be mauled by lions, nay, a carcass about to be devoured by vultures.

NB: please note the continent appropriate analogies

So my hair is a bit long, this was apparently the cause of wonderment as most people here have shorter hair. The length was commented on a lot. It is also very nice hair. This was also mentioned. During this whole process I was becoming increasingly more embarrassed as I looked in the mirror and tried to focus on my haircut but distracted by the watching gaze of strangers, some of whom had their heads covered in foil. How can you concentrate with all that going on?! I believe my haircut took about 5 minutes because I just wanted it to finish and move out of the spotlight. Because of this I did not get the best cut ever and when we got back I had Doris trim and style a few bits because she is one of those genius people who can do most things remarkably well.

So the hairdresser looked at me in slight concern after the fastest haircut in history and said is that ok? I said ‘yes, yep fine, fine, thanks’. She held me down in the chair and said ‘shall I dry it’. Again I went with the ultra-British polite ‘if that’s ok, thank you, you don’t have to, shall I do it? I’m so sorry to be taking up your time’ (mild exaggeration but only mild)

Anyway, it was soon over and I quickly ran off to the house to pee and get away from the eyes of staring. One nice thing Doris mentioned was that after I had fled, one of the blokes said ‘I love that accent’. Which is always nice to hear…I don’t think anyone has ever liked it before…so I have kept him and will love him and pet him and call him George.

The rest of Saturday was filled with a lot of eating/sunbathing/doing not very much. Oh one proud moment was when I had to try and get the Child Who Hates To Sleep to sleep. I managed it by leaning over her and blinking her to sleep. Loooong sloooow blinks which she copied and fell asleep. So I win.

Sunday was similar in that I didn’t do very much but we did have another trip to the shops for something or other for someone or other. I had to go to the chemist as it turns out not only am I allergic to the mosquitoes who have been feasting on my delicate flesh, I’m also allergic to the sun spray lotion stuff I’d just bought. I’m not what you’d call…attractive on this trip. Picture if you will, an oil slick, covered in red bumps.

Thankfully I managed to get a small pharmacy worth of creams and sprays to the mild amusement of the shop staff and I look slightly less bumpy/oily/bitten today. Very exciting!

I also got to Skype some of my family which was truly lovely. My dad is growing a beard. In many ways this is most interesting and important piece of information to be shared. I have NEVER seen him with a beard. I have worn a beard more times than he has (I do in fact own a small collection of beards).

He looks like that sea captain who used to advertise fish fingers [MTK - that'll be Captain Birdseye]. But he is a very jolly man so I think he will look either like a very noble sea captain or like Father Christmas. King George V was suggested as a beard style and I think he could manage that. Goodness me, a beard. Whatever next!

Beck xx

Related articles

• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 1 (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 2 (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 3 (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 4 – The Day of the Poo (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 5 – Don’t Touch Anything! (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)

*names have been changed to protect Becky from harm.

Hullo chums, or to annoy certain members of my family, hello folks (snigger).

So how goes it with you all?

It is 20 to 8pm here and I feel a bit tired and lost so don’t expect this to make any sense. I’m also listening to the i-pod put together by Jo whose musical tastes are as bizarre as my eating habits. That is to say she put the music on it, she didn’t put the i-pod together…although she could as she is actually made of magic.

On the topic of the i-Pod, it is a hideous pink and used to belong to my sister who has a taste for cheesy 80s/60s music. So if I listen on random it can go from a children’s song (put on by said sister for the niece and nephew), to something from the 80s followed by mad folk leapy dancy music. Here is an example:

Eric the half a bee (monty python)
Hakuna Matata (Disney)
Kitty Jay (folk)
Down to the river (gospel-ish)
Flower duet (opera)
I should be so lucky (hellish pop)
In Christ Alone (worship song)
If Jesus drove a motorhome (not a worship song)

None of which helps my mental stability.

Actually I tend to do the washing up to this music, *montage of me dancing round the kitchen to unheard music of madness*

Well that’s all I wrote yesterday!

It is Friday 10^th Feb now and once again…IT IS RAINING AND OVERCAST AGAIN, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. I’m telling you, don’t expect me to come back tanned *angry muttering*.

Still I have made good progress with my work, done some exercise, read about 5 books, chilled out, eaten a LOT of rubbish, including some highly addictive crisps which resemble packaging material covered in orange powder.

Life is moving a bit slowly and I have not managed well at all on the one or two mornings that I’ve done the 5.30 baby shift. None the less, here is an insightful and fabulous update of the life of mine.

Yesterday afternoon I decided to oil my hair as I didn’t want it drying out. I may have slightly overdone it and half a bottle of avocado baby oil later, one concerned comment from Delores due to the smell that I might burning incense and about to burn the house down and a head so full of oil that gravity itself slid off, I realised I may have overdone it and didn’t actually have a clue how to get it out.  On many occasions during this trip have I been halted in my steps by the thought ‘I did not think this one through’…this was one such occasion.

Four shampoos later and I realised I may be a bit more stuck than I realised. Not physically stuck you understand, why with all that oil I could have escaped from anywhere by sliding up the walls and out the window.

So I scooped all the hair (mine) (it has got stupidly long in the last couple of weeks) up and trailed to bed, perturbed in knowledge that you could fill a car with the oil shining from my head. As I walked the lonely steps about the place small oil slicks developed in my wake. This morning I awoke and slid out of bed, unsure about what to do. Finally in desperation I knelt over the swimming pool. It was cold this morning, in the rain and overcast skies of Africa (WHAT THE???); summoning the courage of those around (that is one of my special powers) I dunked my head in, causing an immediate rainbow reflection of such magnitude that Green Peace turned up and issued me a written warning for crimes against H20. I came back inside and inspected my raggedy hair and then did the only logical thing I could: I washed my hair in washing up liquid.

Still, seems to have done the trick and I’m as clean and shiny as a plate!

Doris has decided to make some bunting. They do not have bunting here so she is spending quite a lot of time explaining what it is to people. Oh the blank, blank looks.

I made Tinkerbell a sign on pink card saying ‘GIRL’ which Doris’s dad put on her head but Doris refused to use saying that my writing was too ‘manly’. I have taken offense at this. My handwriting is illegible yes, but manly…come now, SHE GOES TOO FAR!

Now the title of this piece; well as some of you know, I have a slight tendency to break/damage/knock over/destroy the majority of things I touch. I believe I alluded to this in a previous email. Well since then I have managed to time my knocking over of things to only when Tinkerbell is sleeping. I broke some exercise equipment (one of those stretchy band things – it snapped and I punched myself in the face, sigh). I turned on a light and the light switch snapped off. I got on a bike to attempt to remember how to ride and both tyres were flat and we couldn’t get them back up for some reason. I wasn’t allowed to ride the other one as it was expensive. Doris has a new system of monitoring things: general safety, baby proof, Becky proof. I’d be offended if I didn’t know she had my best interest at heart. I have also upped the number of things I’ve walking into/tripped over/smacked into myself. I gave up counting my bruises at 12. And to top it all off I have become insect fodder. I was welcomed to South Africa initially by a committee of mosquitoes who showed their appreciation at my arrival by tearing into my legs the second day I got here. I thought I was free of them but two days ago I had three huge lumps come up on my arm. I went to my safe place (Savlon) to little avail. Doris thought it might be a spider bite but that made both us get all ‘uuurrrrrrggggg’ so we decided that wasn’t the case (yes; that is how health works). Her dad had a look and his in-depth remark was ‘mosquitoes…don’t they have them in England’.  That final remark was his response when I walked into the glass door as well…I’m not sure quite how he pictures my home but from his comments this is my summary:

England: a cold and grey land of constant rain, full of anaemic cows but lacking in insects and doors.

Well chaps, other than a few other little adventures out to eat sushi (and accidently eat wasabi thinking it was avocado…yes I did swear quite a lot as my tongue tried to crawl out of my mouth) and a few visits to and from people I don’t know (including another visit from Doris’s gran who now just laughs and says ‘walked into a door’ every time she sees me), we have done little.

Things may alter in our last week but as none of us have had all that much sleep I’m impressed we are doing anything.

Oooh, apparently just off to the cinema, it only costs the equivalent of £1 so that’s nice.

Let me know how it goes with you!

Beck xx

Related articles

• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 1 (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 2 (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 3 (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 4 – The Day of the Poo (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)

*names have been changed to protect Becky from harm.

Ooo and also, I’ll have you know, ahh.

I come before you all once again, happy, joyful even, in the return of the sun in all of its blistering heat following about 5 days of overcast and rainy weather.
Well the last few days haven’t been so much eventful as they have been filled with random occurrences, continuing to fill me with glee.

You may recall I told you that we had changed rooms for the sake of the child. Well after 2 glorious nights in a giant bed in which I did indeed sleep sideways across it, I was informed that the child and mother were returning and we needed to swap back for some baby related reason… I think it is because my room becomes a furnace in the afternoons and Caitlyn was literally (LITERALLY) steaming (she wasn’t – that was literally, LITERALLY, a lie). Sadly these are not the days of Bethlehem hospitality, and being in her house, I could not tell Doris, no room at this inn, try sleeping in the garage. Instead, once again we spent a morning transporting cots and furniture and luggage back between rooms. My nights have been less gleeful as I cannot stretch in this tiny bed and am now far more aware of the littleness. You may be thinking, does one person (me) need so much space? Shouldn’t they (I) gladly help out a stressed and tired mother with a baby who apparently has given up on sleep for lent, Ramadan, ethical reasons and because she is secretly a 9th stage vegan who believes that to close ones eyes is cruel to the night. Well no quite frankly, I’m not that nice a person. Instead I do my rhythmic hopping with a grumble in my ankles and a fist shaken at the baby when no one is watching.

Today, as the title suggests, was ‘The Day Of The Poo’. Tinkerbell’s poo changed…because I’m a nurse, I will describe it to you. It had been foul smelling, very dark green and paste like. Yes I examined it. I felt sure it was because some food had been changed, she had no temperature, and apart from her reluctance to give Doris a moments peace, was chipper as chips. Also…I’m too chilled to feel concern. After a jolly trip down to the local chemist we spoke to a nurse who was quite fabulous. She did not just give us medical advice and suggest a local GP (turned out to be the food – they didn’t give it to her (Tinkerbell – not the nurse) today and her poo is back to its former glory), no, this nurse also described the GPs. Apparently one was very trendy and nice (wears big earrings and giant trainers, or takies, as they say), the other, a bloke, is very good but very grumpy. She thinks he has short man syndrome. Had we had to see this man, I fear that giggles would have once more reigned supreme.

Anyway, Doris went on a baby poo website (???!!!) and together we agreed it was due to the food change. So that was nice.

On Saturday Doris and I had managed to get away to hang out together for a few hours which was lovely. We went to one of the many, many, many, many shopping malls here (we have visited all of them I’m sure – it is like Doris is on a very specific retail pilgrimage). I tend to become quite petulant until given some food and a nice sit down because I am actually a very old woman. However child free, we were able to wander with joy and then watch a film. We saw man on a ledge – the film, not just some bloke. IT IS REALLY GOOD. Prior to watching, Doris had to return some lychee’s that she had bought but turned out to be mouldy. This is how the encounter went:

Doris (to woman at ‘customer’ help desk): I got these a couple of days ago (shows box of green mould), can I return them as they are mouldy.
Woman: (as though Doris is draining her very will to live) *SIGH* you can exchange them for new ones
Doris: and will any of them be mould free?
Woman: (looks at Doris without any concern for the reputation of her work place at all) *giant shrug*
END OF ENCOUNTER.

Now I ask you…WHAT KIND OF ATTITUDE IS THAT TO QUESTION ABOUT THE LEVEL OF MOULD IN YOUR PRODUCE???? Again I reduced to giggles at the fabulous level of blasé nonchalance this woman displayed. I had to stop myself applauding. Next time I cook for someone and they ask about the quality of my food that will be my response.

So what else, well I have managed to practice the massage stuff once on Doris. We ended up putting cushions on the coffee table and she balanced somewhat awkwardly while Tinkerbell (or ‘vomit face’ as I now call her due to amount of clothing she has stained with her strategically timed reflux) stared up at her in total bafflement.

We have started doing zumba. This also makes me giggle but is definitely an effective workout. I used actual muscles! Who knew I had any!

Ok, so last baby related story of the email (probably). Tinkerbell refuses to grow any hair. I’m not sure why but she is quite determined. Although I think she looks like a girl, apparently no one in Africa agrees with this. Therefore despite Doris buying many, many pink and girly outfits and always dressing her in them when we go out with comments along the lines of ‘THIS WILL PROVE SHE IS A GIRL’, people still say ‘oh what a cute little boy’. My favourite one was today when we were in a little bizarre shop. Doris had vanished off into some corner and I was standing petulantly near the pram thinking complainy thoughts about my feet aching and how nice a sit down with a cup of tea would be, when the shop lady looked at Tinkerbell – who was dressing in a little red stripy top with a bow on it. She said ‘ahh, hello boy’. Then from across the room came the voice of a truly annoyed mother saying, quite simply but, ah, firmly…

GIRL!!!!!!!

Once again, reduced to giggles I was forced to exit the shop.

Sunday we went to Doris’s parents church. Africans are so much louder than Brits with the loud agreeing during the preach. However it does keep you awake and I may start doing it during lectures and presentations, just little shouts of ‘well said’ ‘I agree’ and ‘halleluiah’ for when they say something really spectacular about the new agenda. Should I get totally carried I will use ‘preach it brother/sister’ and fist punch the sky. I’m almost 100% sure I can’t pull this off.

Ok, well I am going to do some work, or eat some soup or something so I will ping this now. I attach a couple of smug photographs because, well, I’m in the sun and you are not

Attached are a few photos…mostly to be smug about being in the sun…actually they won’t attach so scrap that – I’ll send it another time.

Love and so forth.

Beck xx

Related articles

• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 1 (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 2 (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)
• A South Londoner (UK) in East London (SA) – part 3 (mrthekidd.wordpress.com)

*names have been changed to protect Becky from harm.

Hello. Or, to be culturally sensitive, as they say here: ‘hello’

So it is now nearing the end of the first week apparently! Thursday has been and gone and I didn’t even notice! Mostly because the last two and a half days it has rained solidly, forcing me to abandon my smugness with bitter regret. Apparently this weather will last until Sunday when the sun will once more burst on to the scene like an old movie starlet *ooohhhh*.

We attempted to swim in the pool during the rain but wussed out as it was cold. However today I did leap in the pool and the video we took has now recorded the frequency at which I can scream when plunged into very, very, very cold water – quite impressive actually.

That and other extraordinary insights into my life told with that same unbridled excitement can be found in my autobiography – out soon!

Moving on.

The rain has actually been a nice break from the insane heat and definitely good for Tinkerbell who has been getting prickly heat rash (and ring worm for some reason!). She is pretty much constantly cheerful but has definitely decided that sleep is not for her, or indeed her underlings (I and my face have been assigned as court jester – she looks at me loads and does this huge grin when I do…I saw a photo of it today and was horrified – I HAD NO IDEA MY SMILE WAS THAT MENTAL.)  Wednesday night Doris was up with her at 1, 2, 3, 4, half 4 and 6 am. Poor girl, some holiday. I was not… I didn’t even hear the crying :S .

This lack of baby sleep has led to what I am calling the ‘shh culture’. The general mood of desperation to get her to stay asleep whenever she succumbs to it has led to the household ‘shh-ing’ EVERY NOISE THAT HAPPENS. At first this was limited to people making loud noises or talking to noisily when we were near the sleeping/nearly sleeping child. But this reaction to sound has developed to such an extent, and this is the actual truth, that at points the following things have been ‘shh-ed’…almost regardless of Tinkerbell’s presence:

Talking
Laughing
Phones beeping
Coughing
Creaky floorboards
Door shutting
Car door shutting
Windscreen wipers

Obviously my reaction is not helpful – I have found this hysterically funny. We went out for dinner last night which is when the windscreen wipers were shh-ed. It became too much for me and I got the giggles and Doris and I spent about 10 minutes listing all the other noisy things that needed to be shh-ed. Our list included:

Body metabolism
Breathing
Heart beat/noisy veins and arteries
The rain
Thinking
Tinkerbell herself

We had to stop there because we were shh-ed for laughing too loudly.

So, as we have not really done too much I will instead present you with an issue I am currently not attempting to deal with in anyway at all.

At home many, many people struggle to understand a word I say because not only do I mumble like a pro, but I talk very fast and quite quietly (unless with Lucie in which case I become unfeasibly high pitched and shouty). The reason for this quiet speed mumbling is that I have to process externally at another human or my brain explodes and my freckles fall off.

However I know that I won’t know what my final decision or thoughts are until I’ve talked through the options. This means a lot of what I say, I don’t mean or think, but am just working through. Hence I talk a lot of scribble as my dad would say. Being very aware of this I don’t want to bore anyone but I also know I need to say ALL THE WORDS lest I crack up at bit and words start leaking out unexpectedly.

(As an aside, this actually happens, if I don’t talk enough I find that I start saying random words I’m thinking without realising, very embarrassing.)

My strategy has been to talk as quickly as I can and as quietly as I can to get through the thoughts and let people move on/drag their bleeding and broken ears away for restoration. This backfires because people seem to find this oddly annoying to be around and would rather hear the actual words I’m saying, rather than:

“shmimauen ineamsln bealkshleakshlk twice with cheese lkmes milealhkn emliemae HAHAHA meailnsling teiahsh riaeha, don’t you think?”.

My mother probably has the most difficulty making out what I’m saying and no longer even tries to pretend that she has understood (she just nods and smiles at me vaguely for about 5 minutes and then says ‘what?’).

However, throw me into another country where the South London (UK) twang is not the prevailing accent and you present me with literally thousands (maybe even millions if I can get to them) of people I can confuse. Add to the equation the rather disturbing loss of hearing I seem to have developed since arriving (my hearing seems to have been left with Tinkerbell’s routine at passport control) and I have no idea what anyone else is saying either (cue montage of general confusion and pre-recorded laughter at my hilarious misshapes).

People are handling my lack of communication abilities in different ways. Doris’s mum is being very patient and, as with my mum, we spend a lot of time saying ‘what?’ and repeating things. Doris herself is so tired I don’t even know what language she is speaking in most of the time and we just sort of nod at each other, or spend long periods of time talking         very                      slowly, or not listening to the other one and holding our own conversation regardless of the response.  Doris’s dad… well he is a huge mountain of a man (I’m telling you – they breed them huge over here!), a serious, quite quiet man with the thickest accent, who scares the peas out of my pod and into the soup (it’s an expression – go with it). I don’t think he has understood or heard more than 8 words I’ve said since I got here.  I have understood 7 of his (yes I’m keeping a list). We are, I think, behaving very much as though the other one doesn’t exist unless unavoidably forced to communicate. For example, he came home from work the other day – here is an extract of the in-depth conversation we shared:

Alonzo: hello
Me: hello, how was work?
Alonzo: hot
Me: ah *nervous laugh* haha, (panic setting in, only option is to state the obvious) yeah it’s hot eh
Alonzo: mmm
Cue: Alonzo and Becky breathe a sigh of relief that their communication is over for the day and walk off quickly in opposite directions.

I then had the following pep talk with myself – which interestingly was longer than my actual conversation with another human being: “IT IS AFRICA… IN THE SUMMER… OF COURSE IT IS HOT! IT’S 28 DEGREES OUTSIDE, YOUR FACE JUST SPONTANIOUSLY COMBUSTED IN THE HEAT, YOU IDIOT – LEARN HOW TO COMMUNICATE.

For the other humans, well, all talks with people in shops and restaurants has led to me needing Doris or Delores to translate both ways. Also as ‘cheers’ here means ‘goodbye’ rather than ‘thanks’ I think I have unintentionally been telling anyone who helps me to p!$$ off… eek.

The friends and family of Doris who have visited me have dealt with a stranger (the operative word here) in the following way: other than one VERY patient lady who made the sweetest effort to understand me, everyone who has visited here either hasn’t heard me when I’ve spoken, can’t understand me, or doesn’t actually look at me. Alternatively, I am actually a figment of Tinkerbell’s imagination as I have started to suspect and all of this is because only she can actually see me.

Of course that means all of you are in fact a figment of my imagination, in which case I need to have a quick drink and a nice lie down. Or a nice drink and quick lie down… either works!

Until next time – tickerty boo.

Xx

Post script:

Sooo quick thing. Just met some of Doris’s family again… first thing her granny said was ‘ahh yes you walked into the glass door didn’t you?’

THAT WAS FOUR YEARS AGO… the shame never leaves, neither does the bruising.

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*names have been changed to protect Becky from harm.

Hola all,

First a disclaimer; all of this is of course written from the view point of the me. It is likely that others involved in the events that will unfold below view them in a different light but it probably wouldn’t be so funny (majestic chortles).

Well we have been here for a couple of days now and one thing has become abundantly clear – I am as unhinged and accident prone on this continent as on my own dear little Island.

On Sunday afternoon it was discovered that the room Doris and Tinkerbell were in was too hot, or too sunny, or too stuffy…or something…I really do need to listen more. Anyway it wasn’t suitable for Tinkerbell who is currently resisting all attempts to get her to sleep so we did an impressively quick room change and, rather painfully for me I now have to sleep in a larger room on a double bed…THE SACRIFICES I MAKE FOR MY FRIENDS AND THEIR OFFSPRING.

Monday I awoke in this delightful room and whereas before I was limited by space in how I could express my joy at life through dance (I could only use the medium of rythmic hopping) I was now able to leap and bound like a drunken ballet dancer. I was quite restrained however and instead limited myself to walking into the doorframe as I staggered to the kitchen for a cup of tea.

The usual morning routine of work/enjoying the sun by the pool began and was heightened by the knowledge that it is -2 and snowing at home. My laughter flowed long and evil like my hair.

Today Doris, her ma (Delores) and I decided to undertake the rather dangerous activity of shopping (Tinkerbell was strangely ambivalent on the topic). It is £1 to 11.8 Rand at the moment which is not good for someone who loves SA fashion and stuff like I do. Not quite as much as Doris who becomes animated and ever so cute on seeing all the things, darting about the shops picking up everything and squeeling in delight. I have NO idea where she will put everything she has bought but she is annoyingly awesome at interior décor (never seen her on exterior décor but she’s probably really good at that as well. Good to the point that she could probable manage to make posterior décor look fabulous). (Having just read that I would like to point out that posterior décor isn’t actually a thing, more just me still finding bottoms overwhelmingly comical despite not being 5 years old anymore).

In one shop I found a beautiful candle in a bowel which I lifted up to see the price underneath only for the candle to snap and drop heavily to the floor. No one saw and I believe I actually did what can only be classed as ‘a shifty look’ about the place.  I put it back and then shuffled over to ask the opinion of Doris if I should pay for the damage (there were no signs telling me I had to unlike some other places), she directed me to ask her mum (we never grow out of that response I think) and was reassured that as it broken without me smashing it into anything it was probably fine to leave it and run away…although she phrased it like a reasonable adult.

Shopping was a success as far as it can be measured. We looked at things…we bought pretty much all of them. In one shop I was looking through a rack of clothes and was apparently moving things with more vigour than I gave my puny arms credit for when the entire rack fell off the wall with a crash, scaring the man standing near me. We looked at each other with a bizarrely high level of bafflement and I’m ashamed to say I actually whimpered at this point. Once again I summed all my courage and after calling out for Doris (who is now aware that she has two babies to care for on this trip) I ran away as fast as I could with an overloaded pram, bashing into things with every step of doom.

Later in the afternoon as I lay relaxing by the pool reflecting on this propensity to destroy everything I touch, I had to get up to get a drink and on my way through to the kitchen shut my finger in the door hook. What is impressive is that I did not shout out any profanities as I did just the day before when the wind suddenly picked up and the giant sun umbrella that was held in a pot under a slate next to me was lifted up without warning and took off with a crash. Instead I limited myself to ‘poopertypoop poop’. I’m not sure quite where that one came from but it is better than some of the stuff I usually come out with!

Today some family of Doris’s popped in with some baby supplies. They had their own baby with them who was born the same week as Tinkerbell, they are both *insert number here* months old. The families put them in front of each other which worried me somewhat. I tried to warn them about the time one of my sisters and I had tried that with hamsters and they nearly killed each other. Sadly I was ignored and indeed the babies ripped each other’s ears off just as the hamsters before them had done, for what is life but history repeating itself over and over with depressing similarities between rodents and humans (consider the great celtic mouse Bodasqueeka for example).

So that is a lie. They ignored each other. I might be biased but Tinkerbell was definitely cuter than her cousin. I personally feel that the other baby held a striking resemblance to the ‘mini me’ character from Austin Powers.

As I finished this missive to you all, I happened to glance up and noticed that the ceiling fan over my bed is looking dangerously wobbly and there is a gecko above my head.  I have no idea how to respond or process either of these things for I am trained only to deal with death, health emergencies, the deaf or massage. I suppose if the gecko is deaf I could sign and ask it to leave, offering it a quick massage before it has a heart attack and I usher it into a peaceful death under the collapsed ceiling fan…

Becky x

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*names have been changed to protect Becky from harm.

Hullo all!

Just wanted to let those who don’t know become aware that we have arrived safely into the 30 degree heat of the African summer. Bring on three glorious weeks of sun! (smug much…me? why yes I am!)

Travelling with my lovely, lovely friend who is providing me with this trip, Doris and her 5 month old baby, has proved interesting on several occasions. The main thing I hadn’t expected was the amount of people who assumed we were a couple and that Tinkerbell was our baby. Much awkwardness ensued with me saying loudly to Tinkerbell ‘your daddy will be missing you ay’ many, many times.
Doris is not what you would call a good traveller. She can’t sleep on planes and after a short period in a confined space tends to discover an impressive hatred for everyone. Tinkerbell, on the other hand turned out to be a fantastic little traveller who is almost constantly smiling and laughing and charming the socks off everyone…so now we have a plethora of socks we don’t need. She only cried once the whole trip when we landed in East London at the end of our 16 hour journey (18 hours if you include getting to the airport). Doris and I however cried for the entire journey as despite her lack of tears Tinkerbell also had a huge lack of sleep…goodbye baby routine, you got left at passport control.  Oh and Tinkerbell also proved herself a genius of comic timing when I picked her up and she leaned forward and vomited down the inside of my top – right at the start of the journey!

I took on my role as a pack horse for our entire luggage with remarkable flair. At one stage getting off a plane I was carrying my laptop bag and hand luggage, Doris’s hand luggage, Tinkerbell’s bag of baby things, another random bag of something, the baby carrier thing and a bag with the fluids in. I staggered off under all of this only to be followed by Doris…holding only a 5 month old baby saying loudly ‘ooohhh my back hurts’. After I cleaned up the mess of my brain exploding we had a good old laugh about it. It was pretty stressful at times with the very long journey and flight change, for example it took an hour and half for me to get through the international customs line at Joberg…a place I can’t spell, and we only had a 3 hour stop over before our next flight, the luggage wasn’t moved to the new flight automatically so we had to get that and rebook in as well as sort ourselves out after the flight. We couldn’t find baby changing facilities (not that we wanted a new baby – ahaha) so Tinkerbell’s nappy was changed by both us in the disabled loos as we balanced her on our bags and prayed she wouldn’t wee everywhere. We then had to run to book in for our next flight and the airport people forgot to load on the pram despite Doris being very stern on the subject. This meant no car seat for the journey to Doris’s parents house. The joys of Africa and its concerns.

Still, we got here safely, Doris has finally slept about 10 hours in total since we left on Friday and is less about to stab everyone. I am very happy to let everyone else deal with the feeding and sleeping issues of a tiny human although I volunteered to cover the early morning food prep because I am an idiot (getting up at 3.30am…blerg).

Since we got here I’ve been enjoying sitting out by and in the pool. Been doing some work today which made me feel very proud of myself for my devotion to the cause. We went to the shops briefly yesterday and I was once again baffled by the amount of people who don’t wear shoes. Oh and I’ve already bought and read a book which was also lovely.

I have more I could waffle to you about but really…how much do you care

Anyway, it’s lovely here, I’m happy and having a really nice time. I am being largely ignored, as I thought I would be, by everyone which is actually quite funny at times and quite understandable. Doris’s parents are VERY excited to meet their granddaughter and see their daughter…I’m a sort of after thought. At one stage yesterday Tinkerbell started crying so I walked down to see if she was ok only to be literally cast aside as Doris’s mum came charging down the passage way. I got the giggles and had to go and hide in my room. One shouldn’t be seen laughing around weeping children – it gives the wrong impression!

Right, well please do let me know how you are doing and so forth. Not being able to talk constantly to or at people will probably take its toll in about…half an hour I expect   (It is not actually that bad lest I give the wrong impression – Doris’s folks are lovely, very welcoming and kind and generous and Doris is a gem, and I am very, very chipper )

ove etc to one and all…oh I shall probably send this these out on random occasions during this trip so if you’d rather not get them then just tell me stop.  I might listen!

Becky xxx

Post script:

Hello again with a slightly red face.

Doris just read this and would like me to clarify something…

She, on this journey, did not hate people…that was more me :S I was big on quality control and the staff EVERYWHERE not looking after us as they should. I was somewhat vocal about this.

Sigh…you can’t even take artistic license for comedic purposes these days!

1. “Pff, that looks far to easy!  Where’s the catch?”
2. “Thank you for the offer, it looks great, but I’m used to it now”
3. “Nope, I’m going to keep on struggling” *mops sweaty brow*
4. “I’m worried what will happen if I just let it all fall”
5. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.  Here you go”

I’m pretty sure I fall into #2.  The trouble with carrying around all our stuff is that it drags us down, affects our health and makes us weaker.  Jesus died so you don’t have to be weak.

That’s what I really need to learn and to get into my daily life.  We have been bought freedom at the highest cost, and to ignore it through pride, stubbornness, worry, fear or any other reason is a massive slap in the face.

Galatians 5:1 says “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.”

The problem I find is that I don’t often feel like a slave, I mean, I’ve not been branded, I’m not involved in intense physical labour and I haven’t been plucked from my home against my will to serve a cruel master.  But I do labour to gain approval through my work, I do habitually do things that are ultimately destructive, I find comfort in things that end up being empty, I fight, and then give in to small cravings, so in a way I am a slave, just emotionally and spiritually rather than physically.

Imagine a ship with a whole load of anchors of different sizes and shapes all cast,  it can still move, but is seriously hindered.  You, me, us, we, are that ship and the anchors are all the things that hold us back from being who we truly are, things like guilt, shame, addictions, habits, fear, pride, and they will vary based on upbringing, lifestyle, culture etc.  And Christ comes along with a pair of bolt croppers and cuts them one by one, gradually making the going easier, until the last one is cut and we attain perfection and glory when we meet him in Heaven.

That is what the gospel is, that is why Jesus came, to cut the chains that are holding us back so we can sail freely in this life.  And there is where we have a choice, do we accept the help every day, or do we struggle on knowing that the offer is there.

If you know you need help, don’t let pride or perceived ‘loss’ stop you, the offer will only last for so long.  Humility is strength, pride will crush you.

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.”

MrTheKidd

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MrTheKidd

What was my inspiration for this ‘essay’ I don’t hear anyone asking because I’m surrounded by un-inquisitive philistines?  Well, as no one is asking, I’m not telling.  It is now a secret. A precious secret I will take to my grave.  Or someone’s grave at least…probably YOURS.  (Too sinister?)   

Interestingly (for me) I’m not bored with life (not ‘of’ life as my mother has so firmly told me), but as I look at my fellow commuters on the train, at human beans trickling by, I can’t help but think ‘these people need a bit of joy in their lives!  They need vim… VIGOUR, MOXIE, PEP …I CAN PROVIDE THAT PEP!’

As an aside note for you to revel in, it is this love of tautology that had me banished from my method of travel recently.  I approached the vehicle and said ‘I want to travel, traverse, journey, roam, bimble to my destination, target, terminal, objective.  Here is my money, coinage, fare, capital’.

It was at this point that the driver (chauffer, autoist, leadfoot) decided to have me removed in the most undignified fashion.  Father can be very cruel.

Anyway, on with the spirit-lifting list:

1. Insist on being called Caesar for 3 days, wear a toga and laurel throughout this time frame.
2. Don’t limit yourself to wearing weekday pants as your only means of knowing what day it is; instead get specific outfits for every day of the week.  When people have come to rely on you as a walking calendar start mixing it up.  Enjoy the chaos that ensues.
3. Learn to speak dolphin
4. Then conquer the sea and make its inhabitants your minions with your new dolphin army
5. End every sentence with a short song summarising all that has been discussed
6. Grow your own hat out of a hedgerow – topiary is the new black!
7. End every word with ‘amundo’ and a thumbs up(amundo)
8. Visit the countryside…feed the ducks to the goats
9. Be with friends…not your own, someone else’s…pretend you know them (alternatively join a group in a pub or club.  Say John invited you…everyone knows John.)
10. Tie yourself to a kite and jump off a cliff…everyone’s doing it
11. Tell everyone you have ‘drawn a line under that incident. Refuse to tell them what the incident was.
12. Sit in a state of suspended animation for 45 minutes
13. Make the sound of every animal and vehicle that you see, regardless of where you are or who you are with
14. Eat more cheese
15. If you can’t eat cheese, eat more peas
16. If peas are not going to work for you, eat more leaves
17. If you are anti this idea then, instead, stroke your knees
18. Moving on from this make friends with the bees
19. Then try living in trees
20. Maybe clean out your deep freeze
21. Exercise more so you no longer wheeze
22. Tell people you are exceptionally easy to please
23. But secretly you are not
24. Randomly start and then abruptly end rhyming segments
25. Plait the hair on a portion of your body
26. Play around with your shaving routine – ladies, don’t shave all the hair from your legs, leave a small fringe around the ankles and pretend to be a Shetland pony. Gents, start shaving short messages into your facial hair.
27. For one week treat everyone as though you are all characters in a spy movie. Cut eye holes out of all paperwork given to you and stare at people through them
28. 27 is especially effective in meetings if you use the agenda sheet
29. Replace your landline with a tin and tell everyone it’s your new cordless phone. If they complain tie some string through it and attach it to another tin
30. Pretend to be a typewriter and shout ‘PING’ and run across the room when people finish a sentence
31. Unwrap the toilet paper in public loos and write messages on them before rolling them back up again
32. Whenever possible, shimmy rather than walk
33. Prancing is also acceptable
34. Being to explore some of the more sinister things we say as expressions of fondness, for example ‘Oh she is so cute I could eat her all up/I just want to wrap you up in cotton wool’. One of these is cannibalism, the other is a form of suffocation – CHALLENGE PEOPLE ON THESE POINTS, demonstrate if necessary
35. Tell people you find knees offensive
36. Learn to juggle
37. As soon as you lean to juggle forget how immediately
38. When talking to people slowly start to lean to the right and see how far you can go before they mimic you, comment or call for medical attention
39. When you are happy and aware of the fact, clap your hands.

 39.5. Do not sing the accompanying song.

So there you go, I hope you are inspired in the ways of spirit lifting.  Let me know if any of them work out for you.

MrTheKidd

So let’s get a discussion going, what topics should I cover?

Below are the 2 previous posts to give you an idea of the tone and direction:

Differences – A
Differences – B

*I’m sticking to 26 as I’ve started to label each one with a letter, and so I’m restricted by the alphabet.

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I hope daddy doesn’t get cross with me :-S

The glory of God is His obedient Son who died for the sins of all, not only because of the most powerful love we could ever experience, but to set our hearts free from the burden of sin and so that we may have hope in the future to come, a future in eternity with the risen Christ. It is this hope that fuels every day and every thing I do. It is the hope of Christ that all would accept his grace and dwell with him in a new life that is free from rules and regulations ;  a genuinely loving and free-ing relationship – no religion, just love.

MrTheKidd

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The tradition in the Kidd household is this: we have a fancy dinner (hopefully out) on the evening of the actual day – 24th Jan – and then, on the nearest weekend, juggled with my sister in law who’s birthday is on the 25th, we ‘share’ our children with loving family members and spend the day in a shopping location. We go armed with the list of gifts applicable to the year, mooch about, and buy each others gifts on the day. There is usually some kind of food involved, lots of “if I had more money I’d buy…” and much fun/memory making.

This year we are going to Camden Town, which should prove to be an excellent destination to buy many curious and wonderful things.

The gifts this year are:

UK list – bronze
US list – bronze
Modern list – linen/lace
Stone list – tourmaline
Flower list – clematis
Also linked – pottery

The only rule is that we need to use the list for inspiration, so the actual gift can be linked, such as a framed painting of clematis.

So, you’re going to a market in a cutting edge part of London with a variety of stalls & shops, covering antique, jumble, fashion, music, new age, flea, retro & art. You have the above list. What do you buy?

MrTheKidd

I know they’re not the best quality in the world, but I was looking through a very high and dirty window (27th floor to be precise). Still, too good an opportunity to miss.

Happy Friday everyone!

MrTheKidd

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God in my living
There in my breathing
God in my waking
God in my sleeping

God in my resting
There in my working
God in my thinking
God in my speaking

Be my everything
Be my everything
Be my everything
Be my everything

God in my hoping
There in my dreaming
God in my watching
God in my waiting

God in my laughing
There in my weeping
God in my hurting
God in my healing

Christ in me
Christ in me
Christ in me the hope of glory
You are everything

Christ in me
Christ in me
Christ in me the hope of glory
Be my everything
© Tim Hughes

Living in a world that can, and does, offer anything to please and satisfy every whim and need, it is too easy for God to be replaced by what is on offer.

For me, this song encompasses what it means to worship ;  it is far more than singing, it is everything that you do - breathe, act, laugh and cry, all that we do is shaped by our god.  This can be easily seen in the world of sports.  How many ‘football widows’ are there every weekend?  As (mostly) men across the nation tune out of real life and engage 100% with football, either the team of their choosing or any game that is significant, they are engaging in an act of worship.  The match, be it live in the stadium or on TV is the focus of all their energy and attention.  And then after the match, there is the analysis, the conversation in the pub or the office kitchen, catching up during the week on the gossip etc etc.  Men who love football live and breathe it without question, it is their god, it has captured their heart.  And it comes at a cost, usually to their families.

That’s the thing with gods, there is a cost.

The same goes for any number of things ;  food, money, work, sex, drink, blogging, cars, movies, family, gym, TV, books and so on.  And the problem is that these things in and of themselves aren’t bad (apart from drugs and other illegal things, of course) which is how they creep into the number 1 spot in our lives.

Over the course of my life the list of things that has held top spot would seem pretty common for a young man in a western society ;  drinking, smoking, girls, cars, gambling and money, some more seriously than others, and having experienced these things I can say with confidence that they did not offer lasting satisfaction, but they did make me poorer and smelly.

One benefit of having God as my everything is that He helps me to keep focussed on Him.  It’s a daily fight, but I seem to be winning.

Replace the word God in the song with the thing that holds your heart, and it would be true of you, it would be your everything and would shape you.

What is your everything?  How does it cost you?

MrTheKidd

This post was kindly nominated by for a HUG Award. To find out more about this award, clicky here.

Reblogged from Reflections | The Blog of Nicholas Ferguson:

Though on one level it’s easy to comprehend that it’s in the simple act of ‘doing’ – practising and working hard – that we’re able to navigate towards excellence in what we do, for those who want to fulfil their life mission, it’s possible that the very act of doing remains one of the biggest hurdles of all. Legendary NBA basketball player and entrepreneur, Michael Jordan once said, “I’ve always believed that if you put in the work, the results will come.” We’d agree this is true, but also know that …

If you want to be inspired or pushed, then this is the man to follow.

MrTheKidd

This weeks theme stretched my cranium a tad, but I think I’ve chosen well :

I want the sky in a bubble. Simple!

I need to learn as much as possible as quickly as possible. Simple!

We need to save money on the airfare for our holiday. Simple!

I’d like a really stylish photo for a coffee table book. Simple!

I think that did the trick, what do you reckon?

MrTheKidd

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MrTheKidd

Happy New Year!

Firstly, welcome back my trusty followers of old, and greetings from my office desk in London to my new followers!

You are all very welcome here and I encourage you (as much as possible without using physical force) to get involved and make comments/suggestions and spread the MTK joy.

**SIDE NOTE: It has been scientifically proven that February is the most depressing month, so maybe you can bring cheer by sending the glum here.**

It seems the fashion in the blogging community is to do a run-down of top posts, and as I am a slave to fashions of all kinds (pff, as if) here are my top 7 hit posts:

1. Justin Bieber + Mr Bean =
2. The Big Questions
3. Footballers indiscretion – surely not!
4. Words, etc
5. In case you were wondering why I pushed for clicks
6. Aasia Bibi – updated
7. Weekly Photo Challenge: Family

Because I am so wild, here are the bottom 3:

1. I just felt like running
2. Word of The Week 111003
3. Word of The Week 110426

And there are a neat and tidy 10.

My personal favs are (in no order):

1. A day at Brooklands
2. Barefoot Half Marathon : The Race
3. Not Perfect

So, the theme of 2011 for me was Action over Intention, which means I:

Started blogging
Ran a half marathon with no shoes
Got a BB smartphone
Moved house
Led the church campsite with MrsTheKidd
Got ‘intentional’ and have made a really good friend
Got a new job doing my old job where I’m working now (it’s complicated, I’ll explain another time)
Reviewed a number of books and a restaurant
Got published – twice
Joined in with a political campaign to prevent a BSkyB takeover
Raised over £500 for charity running with no shoes
Moved to a new team in the office and managed to swim when thrown in the deep end with a new piece of software
Upset a handful of people
Made up with that handful of people
Mastered the ancient art of omelette cooking
Grew my beard really bushy
Trimmed the bushy beard into a neat moustache
Went bald facially
Started my spiritual/emotional restoration with much help from Ransomed Heart
Built some shelves from scratch (much harder to use than timber)

And many other things.

My theme for 2012 is Growth.

My first thoughts are that I want to grow in my faith, love for my family/friends etc, fitness, fruits of the Spirit and generosity.  I also want to write more articles for Dadzclub and maybe learn a new skill, like the Tango.

That’s me all done. How about you?  How was 2011? Plans for 2012?  Any ideas for this ‘ere blog?

MrTheKidd

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He was happy, honestly.

MrTheKidd

Snow

Snow

And Christmas Lights in the West End

MrTheKidd

I have beautiful children, thank you God.

MrTheKidd

I have so many ideas buzzing around my head, but I know I need to pull back a bit to refine them and turn them from good to amazing.

I pray God will richly bless you over the Christmas period, will give you rest and refreshment and a new vision for the coming year.

Merry Christmas,

Bill

But it is also the time of year when we remember the daring attack God made against the prince of this world – being audacious enough to sneak into enemy territory via a ridiculous route, and deposit a devastating weapon, a baby.

Most thoughts about Christmas are along the lines of goodwill to all, joy and peace, hope, rest and love. These are all good and fine things and are right, but as my pastor said on Sunday, at Christmas time these things are actively, sometimes desperately pursued and yet remain temporary, but in Jesus they are permanent gifts from Him to us.

Now, Jesus wasn’t an angelic, clean white child with curious quadraped onlookers, He would have been born like any other child, among screaming and pain, with the added stress of noisy animals, all inside a cattle shed out the back of a rammed-full inn in a rammed-full town to exhausted and probably confused parents.

But unlike other children, He was a ticking time-bomb waiting for the time when the automatic countdown would begin. Growing into a man He fully observed everything the culture required of Him, training under His father and studying the Torah until the time came for the countdown timer to be set, a time that was filled with adventure, friendship, enemies and miracles, when He finally exploded on the cross, forever destroying the wall of sin between us and the Father.

So at Christmas, we can be truly grateful for all we have in this world – our possessions, family and friends, but we can be even more grateful for the freedom we have in Christ, and for the gifts of Joy, Hope, Peace and Love that He has given to us.

We have joy because we can be confident of our salvation in Christ.

We hope because of the things to come.

We have peace because we know the war is won, the victory is secure.

We love because He first loved us.

And we give because God gave to us first.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

Amen

MrTheKidd