Bicycle

Sorry, no pictures, but doubtless there will opportunity in subsequent posts on this subject. I was about to ride this new acquisition for the very first time when the heavens opened and all manner of sleet and hail and snow fell out. So instead I took Meg after a short run - a bit cold on the feet but I survived - and then, after a hot bath, busied myself with transferring bike computer, lights and pump from old to new bike. Obviously the new bike is a very different breed as nothing fitted easily. I then took it for a quick spin to the end of the road and back and almost died of hypothermia. Oh, and half way along the road I realised I had forgotten the helmet. It is going to take some self discipline to remember this inconvenience.

My immediate reactions: the ride is much harder than I am used to: the guy in the shop had inflated the tires to 100psi which he reckoned was good but is much harder than I am used to. The bike feels scarily insubstantial. The front derailleur is not working - doubtless not adjusted correctly. To rear derailleur is fine and it is so nice to be able to change gears so easily. The ride was hardly long enough to do justice but, I reckon I'll get to like this bike.

Next I'll have to find something for Meg to ride else she's going to be missing out...

Levitation

Descent from Moanbane

The title is eye catching even if it has sinister connotations. I am referring to dreams I have in which I am either able, by self effort, to gradually ascend off the ground and fly, or in which I am able by jumping to cover amazing distances or depths before I land in full control. To gain height I always have to "push" really hard mentally. Sometimes I can achieve amazing heights where the ground below becomes indistinct and I begin to fear for loosing my bearings or suffering hypothermia. More often I cannot get as high as I would like, and gradually the ability reduces until I am grounded for good. Most recently I was flying over a city and I wanted to get over the buildings but, try as I might, I could not quite make it. In spite of this disappointment the feeling I get is always so good, so liberating. I can sometimes see ordinary mortals on the ground and wonder what they must be thinking but generally they do not even seem to be aware of me.

According to Freud's 1953 classic, "The interpretation of dreams", dreams of flying through the air reveal subconscious thoughts of sexual desire, while dreams of failing to fly (i.e. falling) through the air reveals thoughts of...well ... eh... also sexual desire...  (quoted from here).

This evening I was discussing this with my son-in-law who confessed to having very similar dreams. He wonders if it points to an inherent ability we might have in real life which is, as yet, untapped. I, however, have tried several times to do it in real life without even a glimmer of success. Having said that I can relate the following experiences.

On a business trip I over-nighted in a motel in S Wales from which I visited Ogmore on Sea. I went for a run (before my barefoot days) along the coast to Dunraven Bay and back. The route is mostly on the cliff-top over well-cropped grass - on taking jumps down one steep grassy descent I experienced a feeling like flying - doubtless helped along by runner's high.

The descent I take from Moanbane is through a forestry area with an intense green velvet carpet of moss underfoot and shafts of bright sun slanting through branches overhead. There are places where you jump down from one mound to another, delicious feeling between the toes. Again a very similar feeling to my aerodynamic dream jumping, albeit on a smaller scale.

Why do Christians lie?

Google this subject and you'll get religious sites listing the evils of lying or those that criticise Christians as baldfaced liars because what they say is so obviously bunkum. Between these extremes is the idea that Christians by creed abhor lying yet, because of fear of man or not wanting to "let God down", exaggerate or misrepresent the facts. For example, when it comes to answers to prayer, it is not uncommon for the evidence to be skewed in favour of God, keeping quiet about all those times that a prayer was, frankly, not answered in the way expected.

As if God needs propping up.

Convince me that God does, in fact, need propping up and I will be more inclined to become apostate.

Some Christians claim to "hear God" on a very regular basis and in very mundane ways. I suspect that they get confused between the Voice of God and the voice of their inner conscience. I find I can play all manner of such games: Shall I do so-and-so? - Yes, that will be OK, and so on. Call it your alter ego if you like.

Assuming that there is a God at all, I rather think that He is a good deal more economical with words than many of would like. The Gospels portray the man Jesus speaking only what "my Father has taught me" and indicate that none of his words were wasted.

There are many passages in the NT that warn about lying, too many for comfort. I think it is rather more prevalent among Christians than they would admit.

In the film The Life of Pi Pi tells two stories. Since only he was there at the time and he is not saying any more, we cannot tell which one is the truer. But at least one of them is a lie. The proposition is whether one is more likely to be true because it appears to be more rational.

Jesus accused the Pharisees of lying. They effectively accused him of the same. Which party was true? The Pharisees' argument seemed the more rational.

In his epistles, four times the apostle Paul takes pains to tell us that he is not lying - so was lying commonplace in the church?

Rather than try to embellish our faith with lies perhaps it would do better "to enter into life lame than to have two feet to be cast into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched."

Updated pages

Not being able to think about what new thing to write about, I have spent a few minutes updating some of my pages.  Sorry, folks, but due to pressure of work and lack of muse that'll have to do for today.

Not much happening

It's not that nothing much is happening, indeed quite the reverse and that is why I have not blogged for some while. Besides, what is there to blog about?

N81 barefoot

Someone else was walking the dog so I went a route including a stretch of the N81 thus not dog friendly. A lot of road. It felt like about 13 miles, I was getting really tired on the last couple of miles. It actually clocked up on Google Earth as only 8.7 miles. Perhaps I am becoming a wimp!

Saturday

A typical Saturday with Ali still away.  I lay in bed enjoying being warm and not having to get up too early. Usual cereal and mug of tea to jump-start my body into action. At 0900 prompt I join my son-in-law removing hardcore from the tunnel. You may ask why was there hardcore in the tunnel but this is too public a place to explain. Lunchtime thankfully eventually relieves us. After lunch I do some quick summary research on the subject of bicycles. You may ask why bicycles? Well, I am going to buy one. I have never purchased a new bike for myself before and did not anticipate that it would be so difficult. Last Saturday I checked out a bike shop in Newbridge; during the week I have been doing the inevitable internet research.  So today I biked into Blessington (7 miles) to check out the new bike shop there. The proprietor Tom gave me a lot of his time and pretty much sold me a Trek 1.2.

Then back again, change from bike gear to running gear and take the dog for a 5 mile run.

Back again to put the final coat of emulsion on our bedroom wall where the damp got in, only to find that the paint is bad - I'll have to buy some more. So I took a bath instead.

Finally to the kitchen. I have had plans for a lump of what looked like cheese that has been lurking in the fridge since Ali left. You should never keep cheese in the fridge. You should never wrap cheese: it needs to breathe. Mr Cave hmmmmm! taught me that much. This lump was very well wrapped and in the fridge. On releasing it from its prison behold it was a strange grey colour.

Cheese?

After removing a 3mm layer all round it resumed the normal yellow colour and became the major ingredient for dinner. Regrettably not as good as my mum cooked it.  Slice potatoes, par boil, fry in butter and olive oil (my mum would have used lard), grate cheese over and grill.

Cheese on saute potatoes

Followed by some apple pie and another large red mug of tea.  If I die from cheese poisoning - well there will be no more antonalyptic.  BTW have all my readers discovered yet why I chose that name?