A little bit of Dad

In my final Lundi limerick yesterday I used the hamlet of Acton and linked it to the fact that it played a large part in my Dad’s life.

In the process of digging out a bit of real life background, rather than the normal wikipedia, or google sources, I rummaged through the suitcase that I brought away from Dad’s house after he died at the grand age of 96.

Mum had died nearly 11 years before and everyone expected Dad to follow fairly swiftly after. He was, after all, a hard working farm labourer, who had relied on Mum for meals, clean clothes, and a welcoming home. We had all, of course, forgotten his hard upbringing, his determination, and his adaptability.

Within a couple of weeks he had bought himself a microwave. “I’ve always wanted one of these but your Mother would never have one”, he said.

He went on to cook his own meals, wash, dry, and iron his clothes, vacuum the house, and thoroughly enjoy the whole new leaf that he’d turned over. My little sister (three years older than me), who lived a few miles away, kept an eye on him, had him over for Sunday lunch and, over the coming years, gradually helped him more, according to his needs.

Anyway, this isn’t meant to be a definitive history of Dad, purely an extension of the information about his link to Acton.

The suitcase I mentioned earlier has quite a few Bibles, and other books, in it, each one has a story to tell. Dad was a Methodist Local Preacher from the age of 20 until failing hearing, and health, caused him to retire, although he remained ‘on the books’ until his death, and received several certificates of Long Service, even up to 75 years service! It just could not be done nowadays!

Dad was a marvellous preacher. Inspiring, knowledgeable, plain speaking, always linking to everyday life, articulate but never verbose. In everyday life you would never dream that he was a gifted and effective preacher. He was a quiet, mild mannered man whose goodness shone out for all to see, always willing to help, support, and encourage all that he encountered.

First out of the case is a School photograph from 1922 when Dad was 12
How smart they all are, and I love the bicycle parked around the corner! Dad would have done a couple of hours work before going to school and would have many jobs to complete when he got home.
Sunday School prize that Dad received from Acton
Note the Superintendent was John Matthews, an uncle
and a 19th birthday present from an Auntie
A present from the Local Preachers Association on his recognition service as a preacher (Oct 14th 1929)
21st birthday gift to Mum
An article that appeared in the Local Preachers Newsletter after Dad died

Lundi limerick #105

Thinking of Acton I’m glad

so special to Mum and to Dad

It’s where they first met

and their future was set

Such a wondrous life they both had.

 

There is not a lot to be said about Acton,  a small hamlet in Staffordshire. You could so easily drive through it without knowing and yet, without its existence, I may well not have existed!

The one building that is there, an old Wesleyan Methodist Church that closed in 2003, is where my father, Charles Matthews, went to Sunday School, then to Chapel. Where he met my mother Irene Lily Matthews, née Talbot. Where they first started courting,  all very prim and proper in those days. Where Dad first qualified for his  75 years as a Methodist Local Preacher.

I will add some photographs to a later post, and give a little more detail. I thought it appropriate that for the last of my two years worth of Lundi limericks (Lundi being french for Monday, for those who hadn’t noticed!!) I should write about somewhere extra special.

Thank you Acton. Thank you Mum and Dad.

 

 

 

Altered reality — Wordsmatter

“As I watched and listened, I thought, Why can’t the PW see that statistics aren’t reaching this woman? Those facts and figures don’t seem to be affecting her actual life. Even though they might be true, this woman isn’t seeing the benefit of the work being done. The PW just isn’t hearing the NEED. She’s too focused on her response that she’s not hearing the woman.”

This is so true in this particular post that I happened upon by chance, but also in todays political and social everyday life. Everyone is so intent on putting across their own view, in justifying a decision, in arguing that their way is the correct and only way, that they do not listen. They are too intent on formulating a clever response, using buzzwords that mean absolutely nothing and, in so many cases, trying to belittle, embarrass, or bully.

Please read, and enjoy, this post by Tammy Davis.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again–mostly because it is a lesson I have to keep learning myself. Perception is reality. A couple weeks ago I attended an event that included a panel discussion with people presenting differing viewpoints. One woman came from an under-served neighborhood and felt abandoned by the city. She […]

via Altered reality — Wordsmatter

Lundi limerick #96

Do you fancy a home in Joys Green

it is small and incredibly clean

No school and no shop

no post or bus stop

Not good if your child is a teen

Joy's_Green_-_geograph.org.uk_-_1427631

The village, shown above,  still has its own playground and a small football pitch. The Joys Green community centre is also still situated within the old primary school grounds and meetings regarding the local area are often either held there or at the Memorial Hall in the adjoining village of Lydbrook.

 

Lundi limerick #93

A small Cornish village called Maker

has neither a priest nor a baker

It does have pub

but ay there’s the rub

for everyone there is a Quaker

 

The village exists but is not, and never has been, predominantly Quaker

You can learn a little about the village here.

Although not all Quakers (also known as Friends) are teetotal, many do practice abstinence. It is a fascinating religion and, indeed, some choose to lead a Quaker way of life but are non-theist.

Members of the various Quaker movements are all generally united by their belief in the ability of each human being to experientially access the light within, or “that of God in every one”.

I know that at least one of my readers is a Friend.

 

 

 

 

How my home movie became a MAGA hit — Living in the future present

For a glimpse of mid 1970’s America, especially California, you will find this a fascinating read. There is the benefit of seeing  a good old fashioned “home movie”, although a very highly sophisticated one, if you follow the link:

The spirit of 77 in Los Angeles

In the mid 1970s, I worked as an exchange teacher in a California high school. It was an exciting and formative year for me and my family. 1976 was the bicentenary of American independence, and signs and flags everywhere announced “Spirit of ’76”. There was a palpable feeling of optimism. The Vietnam war was over, […]

via How my home movie became a MAGA hit — Living in the future present

A view from across the pond, and back

“The President is merely the most important among a large number of public servants. He should be supported or opposed exactly to the degree which is warranted by his good conduct or bad conduct, his efficiency or inefficiency in rendering loyal, able, and disinterested service to the Nation as a whole. Therefore it is absolutely necessary that there should be full liberty to tell the truth about his acts, and this means that it is exactly necessary to blame him when he does wrong as to praise him when he does right. Any other attitude in an American citizen is both base and servile. To announce that there must be no criticism of the President, or that we are to stand by the President, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public. Nothing but the truth should be spoken about him or any one else. But it is even more important to tell the truth, pleasant or unpleasant, about him than about any one else.” – Theodore Roosevelt, 26th US President (1858-1919)

The Knife Angel

We have been experiencing increasing knife crime in the UK, with the majority of cases affecting our young men and boys. Deaths are increasing and there are few towns that have not experienced death or serious injuries. The police have regular knife amnesties, and seize weapons when they find them.

As part of the campaign to draw attention to this useless waste of life and the seriousness of carrying knives, a huge sculpture, made of blades of all shapes and sizes that have been handed in, or seized, has been created. It is called The Knife Angel.

You can read about the Knife Angel here or see the inspiration behind it, its creation, and its current location in Derby in the videos below.

Incidentally, the little map of Derby, shown in the link above, shows MHA “Methodist Homes for the Aged” , where I worked for 17 years prior to retirement.

 

 

I talk to the trees………..

This popped up in my Facebook “memories” today. I thought it may be of interest, even though it is rather a long read.

Peter's pondering

Not only do I talk to the trees, I talk to all manner of things.

Each morning I go for a walk.

I have various routes, but all take in fields, woodland, the River Erewash, the Erewash canal, bridges, a main road, and suburban streets.

Some days I hardly see a living soul, others I see far too many!

My normal route takes me down my road, which has only some 9 houses. At the bottom of the road I have my first conversation, with a brazen hussy who rolls on the ground and will not let me pass before she is satisfied. Somewhere close by her brother will be watching. He is more timid and undemanding. Their Mummy lives at the end house and thinks they are both boys!

I explain that I have to get on, and continue on my way. She follows, then runs ahead. It is…

View original post 1,667 more words

Twittering Tales #150 – 20 August 2019

With a full time job, and all the fantastic poetry she writes, I don’t know where Kat finds the time to keep up with this wonderful challenge, but I’m glad that she does.

Here is this week’s picture prompt, to write a story in 280 characters or fewer. My contribution is below.

Check out all the fabulously creative entries here and, if you’ve never had a go, why not try a story of your own? You may surprise yourself!

img_5339Photo by Felipe Ribeiro at Pexels.com

Firstly here is Kat’s own story.

The Lottery

The lottery was held a week before the meteor collision. One million souls would be selected, with the winners being notified privately.

Days passed and neighbor’s eyed each other suspiciously. But no one seemed to have made the cut. No one, but the leaders and their families.

I thought that I would add to this:

The Jackpot

They approached the Sun to use the slingshot effect to set course for Alpha 7, and a new life.

Alarms sounded! 

They were being dragged into the fiery hell, and nothing they did had any effect.

Back on Earth, everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief as the meteor passed safely by.

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