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Sunday, 30 October 2016

Chapter 11





After I arrived home to my daughter’s house, lady luck shined on me once again. Having sold my car when I thought I was going to live in Australia, I now had no transport to take up in full my loving activities once more, not even enough money to buy even an old bomb. But a few days before I arrived, my son-in-law had bought a new car, and kept his old one. It was a 2-Liter Honda, so he said that I could use it as long as I wanted too.
But as life is always playing tricks on us, or maybe you could call it faith, or anything that comes into mind as the years slowly catch up on us I had my knees x-rayed, and was left with the deciding question to have one or two replacements in layman’s terms. So, not being lucky at gambling on horses or cards in my younger days, I took the shortest route, and decided one step at a time to have the right knee exposed to the surgeon’s knife, and skilled hands.
I was told that I could lose my leg. I guess the surgeon had to cover himself, but I must say that I was not impressed by that statement. Anyway not to get carried away with my emotional feelings for myself, I gave the all clear to have the job done.

About a week or so later, I got a letter to ask me if I would take part in an exercise to build my leg up for the operation. It explained that the reason was two-fold. One for their studies, and the other for my benefit. So I said yes. Anything that might help others and myself, is always something up my alley. I won’t go into details other than to say I found it tough going, apart from the swimming in the pool they had there.
Mind you I did enjoy the humour I shared with my instructors. There was only one sad event that took place during my eight week course. About four weeks after I started, This gentleman joined me going through my paces. One day as he was sitting there waiting for me to finish my exercise, he went gray in the face, and started to throw up, so the instructor did what he could, and rang for an ambulance. He was taken to the North Shore Hospital, and I later learned that he did not want to stay in the hospital, so was driven home to where he lived in Whangaparaoa, but died on the way.
You might say why did I bring that subject up, well all I can say is that it was another indication to me that life was a precious gift, and every second needed to be lived. Yes, I did have a few conversations with that gentleman in the swimming pool, but I won’t say anything about them, other than I felt quite sorry for him.

Now, I will be as brief as I can about the operation on my leg. When I came out of the anesthetic, I felt great till it wore off. What’s new you might say. Well, all I can inform you of is the experiences that was to follow. When the Surgeon came to see me the following morning, the first thing he said to me was, we had a hell of a job trying to get a catheter into your bladder. Well, I felt like saying, tough luck, what’s the good news. I needed to be cheered up as I had not slept all night. Between the noise from the nurses quarter, and the discomfort I was experiencing, I was in no mood to hear his problems. Now, don’t think for one moment that I was complaining about the wonderful nurses trying to deal with an old fogie like myself, it’s just when you’re in a sorry state like I was, you can’t see the forest for the trees. And  also understand it’s only those of you who have had similar experiences will vouch for that
 
So the Surgeon gave me the rundown on the operation, and told me the procedures I would have to perform on the road to recovery. The next day he came round he noticed that I could not get the full bend on my leg. That seemed to upset him, for he said, when we were almost finished, we checked to see that your leg was responding fine to the movement that was required of it. So now we will have to work on getting the full bend on it. I require that of my patients before they are discharged.

Well to try and shorten the story, I could not get the bend required to be discharged. A feeling came over me that I was going through that place the Catholic Church dream t up called Purgatory. Between not being able to sleep most of the time, and this individual with his radio cassette driving me crazy, I felt like I was being hung, drum and quartered. He had ear phones, but never used them. One day I said to one of the nurses, that guy is driving me crazy, can you get him to use his ear phones, or get me somewhere where I can find a little peace. She said that she would talk to him. She did, but he only used them for a short time, then, then off he went back to his usual selfish ways again. And I wasn’t the only one he bothered believe me.
On the eighth day I pleaded with my Surgeon to let me go home before I went completely round the bend. He wasn’t keen to do so, but gave in to my plea.



I was told not to drive for ten days, but as soon as my daughter got me home I jumped into my little Toyota Starlet that my Son-in-law had got for me because the old Honda had given up the ghost. Boy, did I thank God for my new found freedom. Once more I realised how good it was to be able to do my own thing. Something like that moment I decided to change my life around.

I did go through a bad patch with four operations to get my water works flowing due to the treatment I got for my prostate cancer. Now I guess at 89 I’m lucky to have a bag on my leg to let the water flow into. But I won’t go there unless someone want’s to share a similar, or there about experience with me, then we can experience a little something together that could in some way benefit each other, or maybe someone else.

I can’t remember the year I decided to call myself a Spiritual person instead of a Christian. But I really believe that in some way this lay dormant in me from somewhere in my childhood, or maybe on the day I was born. But the reality of it started to surface from the time when my marriage was annulled. At that time it not only upset me, but it also my children. I believe in some way it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. From that moment, I started to look back over the faith that I had been brought up in. Confession boxes, what a hoax that was for me. Do as you like, and then get pardoned for it. A circle that keeps repeating itself is a never ending circle of hypocrisy. I tried so hard to understand the faith that I had I had been dragged up in as a child, and into my teens. Because my father was on one side of that Godless fence, and my lovely mother on the other, I often said to myself, where does God come into all of this. And when I went to see The Rev Malone to ask him why my marriage had been annulled, he just told me that the Church had found enough reason for this to take place. Had the man been more caring and human with me, I could have looked into the whole situation with a better sense of understanding. But none of that was forthcoming in any form. All there was, was a Godless sheet of cold ice laid at my feet.

Well, I said to myself, this is one brick wall I may not be able to pull down, even though it’s built on sand, so I will just have to let God and mother nature take their own course, and maybe something else will point me in another direction.
Then suddenly The Good Lord hit me where I needed to be hit. As I had taken up writing a page every day from the New Testament, I came across John 4. I had read it several times before, but was not ready to receive it as the real call of awaking that was in store for me. But let me tell you in no uncertain words, that it was the the most beautiful awaking call in my whole life. I got the answer I had been seeking all my life.

I am of The Spirit. By thinking deep within, and not from the outside, I have a sense of unlimited freedom. Everything I do is controlled by me. No matter what other circumstances may hold it together, or tear it apart. How could it be otherwise. And not only does this give me a well tuned sense of responsibility, but also the courage to take that responsibility to the farthest corner of my mind, then act on it as I think fit to do so. And if you can give me a more enlightening answer, I welcome it with open ears.
Alfred North Whitehead says; The vitality of thought is an adventure, ideas won’t keep. Something must be done about them.

Because of the things I get into help me to recognize not only my own humanness, but also that of others. Your uniqueness is just as important as mine. As I want to be all that I am, I also want you to be all that you are. That way we can both grow together. We can find answers together, but it takes effort. Sometimes, a lot of effort.
On round 11, I will leave you with these words. Finding within yourself a boldness to keep you straight on course be there joy, sorrow and strife, target your hopes and ambitions as a test between Heaven and Hell.
Terry.

Chapter 11





After I arrived home to my daughter’s house, lady luck shined on me once again. Having sold my car when I thought I was going to live in Australia, I now had no transport to take up in full my loving activities once more, not even enough money to buy even an old bomb. But a few days before I arrived, my son-in-law had bought a new car, and kept his old one. It was a 2-Liter Honda, so he said that I could use it as long as I wanted too.
But as life is always playing tricks on us, or maybe you could call it faith, or anything that comes into mind as the years slowly catch up on us I had my knees x-rayed, and was left with the deciding question to have one or two replacements in layman’s terms. So, not being lucky at gambling on horses or cards in my younger days, I took the shortest route, and decided one step at a time to have the right knee exposed to the surgeon’s knife, and skilled hands.
I was told that I could lose my leg. I guess the surgeon had to cover himself, but I must say that I was not impressed by that statement. Anyway not to get carried away with my emotional feelings for myself, I gave the all clear to have the job done.

About a week or so later, I got a letter to ask me if I would take part in an exercise to build my leg up for the operation. It explained that the reason was two-fold. One for their studies, and the other for my benefit. So I said yes. Anything that might help others and myself, is always something up my alley. I won’t go into details other than to say I found it tough going, apart from the swimming in the pool they had there.
Mind you I did enjoy the humour I shared with my instructors. There was only one sad event that took place during my eight week course. About four weeks after I started, This gentleman joined me going through my paces. One day as he was sitting there waiting for me to finish my exercise, he went gray in the face, and started to throw up, so the instructor did what he could, and rang for an ambulance. He was taken to the North Shore Hospital, and I later learned that he did not want to stay in the hospital, so was driven home to where he lived in Whangaparaoa, but died on the way.
You might say why did I bring that subject up, well all I can say is that it was another indication to me that life was a precious gift, and every second needed to be lived. Yes, I did have a few conversations with that gentleman in the swimming pool, but I won’t say anything about them, other than I felt quite sorry for him.

Now, I will be as brief as I can about the operation on my leg. When I came out of the anesthetic, I felt great till it wore off. What’s new you might say. Well, all I can inform you of is the experiences that was to follow. When the Surgeon came to see me the following morning, the first thing he said to me was, we had a hell of a job trying to get a catheter into your bladder. Well, I felt like saying, tough luck, what’s the good news. I needed to be cheered up as I had not slept all night. Between the noise from the nurses quarter, and the discomfort I was experiencing, I was in no mood to hear his problems. Now, don’t think for one moment that I was complaining about the wonderful nurses trying to deal with an old fogie like myself, it’s just when you’re in a sorry state like I was, you can’t see the forest for the trees. And  also understand it’s only those of you who have had similer experiences will vouch for that.
So the Surgeon gave me the rundown on the operation, and told me the procedures I would have to perform on the road to recovery. The next day he came round he noticed that I could not get the full bend on my leg. That seemed to upset him, for he said, when we were almost finished, we checked to see that your leg was responding fine to the movement that was required of it. So now we will have to work on getting the full bend on it. I require that of my patients before they are discharged.

Well to try and shorten the story, I could not get the bend required to be discharged. A feeling came over me that I was going through that place the Catholic Church dreamt up called Purgatory. Between not being able to sleep most of the time, and this individual with his radio cassette driving me crazy, I felt like I was being hung, drum and quartered. He had ear phones, but never used them. One day I said to one of the nurses, that guy is driving me crazy, can you get him to use his ear phones, or get me somewhere where I can find a little peace. She said that she would talk to him. She did, but he only used them for a short time, then, then off he went back to his usual selfish ways again. And I wasn’t the only one he bothered believe me.
On the eighth day I pleaded with my Surgeon to let me go home before I went completely round the bend. He wasn’t keen to do so, but gave in to my plea.



I was told not to drive for ten days, but as soon as my daughter got me home I jumped into my little Toyota Starlet that my Son-in-law had got for me because the old Honda had given up the ghost. Boy, did I thank God for my new found freedom. Once more I realised how good it was to be able to do my own thing. Something like that moment I decided to change my life around.

I did go through a bad patch with four operations to get my water works flowing due to the treatment I got for my prostate cancer. Now I guess at 89 I’m lucky to have a bag on my leg to let the water flow into. But I won’t go there unless someone want’s to share a similar, or there about experience with me, then we can experience a little something together that could in some way benefit each other, or maybe someone else.

I can’t remember the year I decided to call myself a Spiritual person instead of a Christian. But I really believe that in some way this lay dormant in me from somewhere in my childhood, or maybe on the day I was born. But the reality of it started to surface from the time when my marriage was annulled. At that time it not only upset me, but it also my children. I believe in some way it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. From that moment, I started to look back over the faith that I had been brought up in. Confession boxes, what a hoax that was for me. Do as you like, and then get pardoned for it. A circle that keeps repeating itself is a never ending circle of hypocrisy. I tried so hard to understand the faith that I had I had been dragged up in as a child, and into my teens. Because my father was on one side of that Godless fence, and my lovely mother on the other, I often said to myself, where does God come into all of this. And when I went to see The Rev Malone to ask him why my marriage had been annulled, he just told me that the Church had found enough reason for this to take place. Had the man been more caring and human with me, I could have looked into the whole situation with a better sense of understanding. But none of that was forthcoming in any form. All there was, was a Godless sheet of cold ice laid at my feet.

Well, I said to myself, this is one brick wall I may not be able to pull down, even though it’s built on sand, so I will just have to let God and mother nature take their own course, and maybe something else will point me in another direction.
Then suddenly The Good Lord hit me where I needed to be hit. As I had taken up writing a page every day from the New Testament, I came across John 4. I had read it several times before, but was not ready to receive it as the real call of awaking that was in store for me. But let me tell you in no uncertain words, that it was the the most beautiful awaking call in my whole life. I got the answer I had been seeking all my life.

I am of The Spirit. By thinking deep within, and not from the outside, I have a sense of unlimited freedom. Everything I do is controlled by me. No matter what other circumstances may hold it together, or tear it apart. How could it be otherwise. And not only does this give me a well tuned sense of responsibility, but also the courage to take that responsibility to the farthest corner of my mind, then act on it as I think fit to do so. And if you can give me a more enlightening answer, I welcome it with open ears.
Alfred North Whitehead says; The vitality of thought is an adventure, ideas won’t keep. Something must be done about them.

Because of the things I get into help me to recognize not only my own humanness, but also that of others. Your uniqueness is just as important as mine. As I want to be all that I am, I also want you to be all that you are. That way we can both grow together. We can find answers together, but it takes effort. Sometimes, a lot of effort.
On round 11, I will leave you with these words. Finding within yourself a boldness to keep you straight on course be there joy, sorrow and strife, target your hopes and ambitions as a test between Heaven and Hell.
Terry.

Sunday, 23 October 2016

Chapter 10





I should have finished off the last chapter with the cops coming to to sort the run in with the pool table guys. But as the night was getting on and the fight had caused an air of gloom over the pub, we decided to leave. Mind you I was quite tired myself from writing chapter 9, so that’s how it worked out for me, and it’s my story and I will write it as I please.

That night as I lay in bed, I got the feeling all was not going to plan. John and his wife would start to watch T.V. from about 5.30pm. I can’t remember what they watched, but it was some kind of a soap opera which I had no time for, so I would go to my room and play my portable stereo. As the days went by I was getting restless. No tennis, golf or swimming. And I was also finding it difficult to converse with John’s wife. I guess to be fair, that old saying fits in here. Two’s company, three’s a crowd. 

Yes, I am there before you, once more I had jumped the gun. The word adventure in this particular situation had not been a wise move. But, then again wisdom is not so much about how you screw up, or become a genius, it’s more about never giving up on yourself no matter how capable or incapable you are at what you believe in. Christ’s disciples were very familiar on that score.

But I knew without any doubt, that The Lord once again had come to my rescue. I believe He has a lot of patience with people like myself who haven’t been able to fit more sensible pieces of the jigsaw puzzle where they make more sense. To my way of thinking, life is one big jigsaw puzzle, and not too many of us are able to complete our patterns as we would like too. But, Christ I believe is right behind those of us who are willing to take a chance, and from my point of view, to hell with the consequences. And I don’t believe that I would still be here today, and done what I’ve done, had I not adopted that attitude.

As I was having problems with my right knee more than my left, and my bank balance was threading its way down the scale, I knew I had to make a decision quickly. So the next day when I was out walking with John, that decision became more obvious. We were coming home after consuming a few beers and a pie, when all of a sudden my right knee locked up at the joint, and I had to limp home keeping my leg as straight as I could to keep the pain at a low level. Later that evening, after resting in my room, I was called out for dinner. So I lay down my cards in the best possible manner that I could, that I would have to go back to New Zealand. It had become necessary for me to have something done with my knee. Had I a car, and was on the Australian pension I would have stuck to my guns. But at the moment I was between the devil and the deep blue see.
They were very upset because I was helping them to pay the rent. Well faith was still on my side. Why I dare not venture into? Anyway I had enough money for a cheap flight back to New Zealand. I had deposited $100 into a bank which I had to do, if I was to get back on the Australian pension. So the next day I explained my position to the bank manager, and had no trouble receiving the money off them. They were very nice about it, as you usually have to wait a day or two.

So off I went life a scalded cat to book a flight home. I can’t tell you in enough words how relieved I felt, and yet a little sorry for John and his wife. And why I said a little sorry, and not very sorry, is the fact that their relationship started with I’m sure lovely beginnings, but somehow I felt all what they wanted it to be, was slowly fading like the falling leaves in Autumn. That was to prove to be the case from a few telephone calls I got off John after I arrived home.

Anyway, next day I got a lift to the Airport and we said our goodbyes with the knowing in my heart that we would never meet again in this world. And with no disrespect to John and his wife, and to others who have touched my life in all sorts of different ways, I wrote this poem.
                                
                               Who matters
                                      Who never did
                                    Who won’t anymore
                                     And who always will.

So don’t worry about people from your past, there’s a reason why they did not make it to your future.
As we approached the North Coast of New Zealand, I felt a great sense of relief come over me. Once again with God’s help I had turned a negative situation into a positive one. I have often thought to myself, maybe that’s what this trip is all about for so many of us. It seems that we get led into one situation to determine the next one. A constant exchange of experiences that will eventually help us in some way, to understand who we really are, or maybe away from who we really are. As I have expressed before, life is all about constant change, and so many of us can so easily get caught up in the negative or positive trials that lie before us. I found something to my way of thinking that supports this, and I love it. It’s from a Holy Book called, “The Kabala".

“Man must see that nothing really is, but that everything is always becoming and changing. Nothing stands still. Everything is born, growing and dying. The very instant a thing reaches its height, it begins to decline. The very law of rhythm is in constant operation. There is no reality. There is no enduring quality, fixity or substance in anything. Nothing is permanent but change. Man must see all things evolving from other things and resolving him to other things, a constant action or reaction, inflow or outflow, building up or tearing down, creation or destruction, birth and growth and death. Nothing is real, and nothing endures but change.

I guess that’s why I am always looking in almost every direction to try and satisfy my thirst for life and living. Life and death I believe are your two best friends. Life tells us, wrap yourself around yourself to try and discover what you are capable of. And when you discover that great sense of wonder, you can then share it with others. Death tells us we don’t have forever, all the time we have is now. That in no uncertain terms tells me that life is one tremendous challenge. And I have learned to accept that challenge because nothing else makes any sense to me other than that. And I have been through some rough times, but nothing compared with the with the loving wonder of other fabulous people whose experiences I love to read and hear about. It is in some way because of them I find the courage to try and better myself.

Well enough for this chapter. And whatever might jump out of it for those of you who are willing to look further afield, I wish you every success.

Terry     

Sunday, 16 October 2016

Chapter 9


 
My Grandson Connor's Adventure

About five months later, I got a letter from my friend in Sydney John Cox to say that he and his wife were moving to a place called Murwillumbah not far from Brisbane in Australia. John had talked about this area quite often, with a longing to live there someday. Of course, me with my outlandish visions of visiting every place I could while time was still on my side, could also see myself not only living there, but also taking in as much of Queensland as i could.
I thought to myself, look at all the people I could meet and share stories with. Then there was all the music, swimming, golf and tennis to become involved in. If this world wasn’t meant for dreamers like me, who the hell was it meant for.

So, I wrote to him and said, let me know when you get settled in, and I will make plans to join you. I got a letter from him a few weeks later to say that he and his wife had moved into a two bedroom rented house. So I sold my car that my son-in-law had given me because my other car had developed a lot of rust.
He had someone working for him so he had to supply him with a car, but for some reason he had to let him go, so once again God saw it fit to give his old sinner son a set of wheels. I don’t know why, but He somehow keeps propping me up when the chips are down in my crazy circle of life.
The arrangements that John suggested I should take, was for me to take a bus from the Brisbane Airport, to a point halfway between where he and his wife were now living, and they would pick me up there.
I arrived in Brisbane about 11.pm, and made my way to where the buses were parked to take people to their different destinations. I was feeling quite tired, and a little uneasy as I went looking for the right bus to take me to my halfway location point.
Adventure is a lot of fun as I have mentioned, but having to lug around a set of golf clubs, a tennis racket and the rest of my belongings with gammy knees at such a late hour of night, was not quite what I anticipated as adventure. Anyway, I found the bus I needed, and told the driver where I was heading for.

When we got near to where I was to meet John, the driver said to me, I hope that your friend is going to be here to meet you. I was the last one one the bus. He said it’s now 12.30, and I would not like to see you left here on your own. It can be a dangerous place for an old person, or for anyone on their own. If he is not there to meet you, I will take you somewhere safe till you get in touch with your friend. I thanked him, and felt a lot easier about my situation. But Thank God John was there waiting at the bus stop. So I again thanked the driver, and offered him $10 to buy himself a drink for his kindness, but he said I enjoyed talking to you when we were alone on the bus. You gave me a little insight into you, and I gave you a little insight into me, and we will always be the richer for it. That’s more than enough gratitude for me. So we gave each other a warm handshake, and I made my way off the bus

Soon I had my gear loaded in John’s wife’s car, then sank back in the rear seat to share my news to date. Sorry, but believe it or not, I have forgotten John’s wife name. They had not long been married that long if I can use that as an excuse. He told me that it had been a whirlwind romance, that started in the Hero of Waterloo pub in the rocks in Sydney. I will make no further comment than that, other than it was going to be a shaky involvement for both of them from what I could gather from my stay with them. 

When we arrived at their place, I hit the sack as soon as I could. The mattress I soon found out, was more like a rib cage, than something you'd hope would take you to dreamland. Boy, did I have a sore back next morning. So I told John and his wife, and John said I will take you to the Salvation Army stores and you can get a second hand mattress.

So off we went around 10 that morning to locate something more suitable for my old bones to slumber on.  Took stock of the small town of Murwillumbah as we made our way there. It reminded me somewhat of the small towns in my home country o a bright fine day. The difference being that it was more up market, and the road was wider. John, then pointed out a nice pub that he frequented when he had a few coins in his pocket. So, I said to him we’ll go and celebrate the mattress I am about to purchase, as it will be too awkward to to drag in here, and God knows what the lady behind the bar might be thinking to see the pair of us parading a mattress into the pub. It might look very suggestive. Mind you it wouldn’t bother me, but I’ve got to think of John’s reputation. He’s got a wife, I’m free as a bird.
So we went in and enjoyed a couple of beers. Though I didn’t know it at the time, this pub was to become a new stomping ground for the two of us.

I must say the lady behind the bar was easy on the eyes, and very pleasant to talk to, so that became another reason to call it a stamping ground.
A little later feeling the benefit of washing our cares away, we went and got the mattress I so badly needed. As we walked through an open area towards John’s place with one end of the mattress placed on our heads, three ladies happened to pass us by with big grins on their faces. I said to them, any takers. That really made them laugh. John just about cracked up.

Well I got a good sleep that night, which proved to me that old bones are always craving for some kind of comfort. The next day I went up to the Pension Department to enquire about having my pension transferred from New Zealand to Australia. I had learned my lesson well from what I stated in my last book.

They gave me all the forms to fill in after they had checked the letter I had brought from the New Zealand pension Department, and also seen that I had been previously been on their books.
The first thing I had to do, was to open a bank account which I did a few days later. So I filled in all the forms, and left everything to the wheels of providence. Then I slowly started to take stock of the town. Walking, drinking and a little bit to eat was as good as any place to start from. John wasn’t into sport like I was, he lived a very casual life style. But I’ve to admit devious me, did not tell John or his wife that my intentions were eventually to travel around as much of Queensland as I could, meeting people, and getting into everything I could on a tight budget. That had now become my life time challenge.

So after about six days I enquired where we could find some music. John was very slow to do anything about anything. Nice guy, but inclined to be lazy. So we were told about this bar where people came along to sing and perform with their instruments. A few evenings later John, his wife and myself took ourselves there to check it out. As we were ordering a few drinks, I got talking to the barmaid, and told her that I would like to sing a few songs if that was possible. Then she asked me if I would sing Danny Boy to her there and then. Well, that went down very well, and was told I would be asked up to sing when the band got itself sorted out. Well, the music started up a little later, and was going well till there was a burst of foul language from the pool table in the far corner, and next minute a guy came sliding at our feet with a blow from someone he had been playing pool with. The guy on the floor was pretty drunk, and blood was flowing from his nose. I had a pretty good idea that the fight involved a women. She had been playing with the two men at the pool table. Anyway, a couple of guy latched on to the guy who had thrown the punch to keep him wanting to hammer the guy who was picking himself of the floor. Next thing I heard that the cops had been called.

John’s wife got quite upset, and John wasn’t particularly happy himself. I thought to myself, this wasn’t quite what I envisaged, but it would be a little item for my book, plus I had witnessed quite a few of these incidences both in the Matthew Talbot, and other places. This one was low-keyed in comparison, but at the same time I was not impressed. When I go to listen to music, the last thing I expect is to see someone landing with a bloody nose at my feet.

This story of mine may not be all that exciting for you, but till I hear yours, It’s got a fair crack to it.
Terry  

Sunday, 9 October 2016

Chapter 8










I did meet Elizabeth while I was in Melbourne. She took me out about five times to lunch, and drove me around the city. One place we went to served lovely pancakes, and when the table was cleared, we played chess on the table top. All the squares were marked out on the table top. The game finished in a stalemate. What more could a man or woman ask for. Well they could, but it takes all all the simple fun out of the man and women thing from some of the experiences I’ve been through, and others that I have seen and heard about. I would be interested in your point of view when the times comes for me to be interrogated on that, and among other things.
We did have one very pleasant evening meal when my daughter Rachel arrived to spend a weekend with me. But I was not really up to having a real good time like I hoped I might. The treatment took a lot out of me, like it did for so many others. But we were not there for fun and games, but to be hopefully cured.


I have to admit that I was almost ready to give up before the last five days of my treatment. I just felt so lonely and fed up darting in and out of toilets, and stuck in my room almost every night watching T.V. and generally trying to amuse myself singing songs.
Missing family and friends, and socializing had become a big part of my life since I opened the door to my new life style. And that may sound trivial or crazy to those of you who have not been through some kind of similar experience, but time for me had become a very important part of my life, and I felt that I needed to fill it with something of value, and have a certain amount of fun doing it.
And, I really believe that these type of feelings are a part of being human. It is far better to express what you feel, than to hold on to it. That to my way of thinking is a soul destroyer. I believe the path I have to follow is the intensive one, rather than the extensive one.
Anyway, God is Good, and I made it through to the last day of my treatment. I thanked the staff who looked after me. Gave them a little something to chew on, and wrote a poem for them as an all over way of saying thank you.
Here is how the poem goes with the heading I put on it.


                         My thanks to the Epworth Center
                                   In Melbourne.


                    I came to you a little scared,
                            A little lonely, a little lost.
                        But as the hours and the days
                              Ticked away you drew me close
                               To your loveliness and charms
                                    And made me whole again.
                                       Shall I remember you?
                                      How could I ever forget you


That may sound a bit hypocritical, but from what I have mentioned about my feelings going through the treatment, but when I got home and settled down, the full impact of what had been done for me, cast another form of gratitude to awaken within me. God’s help is never slow in coming, It’s just that we can seldom understand why and when.
I arrived back in Auckland a day later to be greeted into the arms of my family and friends, very happy to be home again. I had to let myself settle down for a week or so, then I was back into my circle of living once again.
I will keep this chapter short because of the next one.
So those of you who are still with me, or about to join me, I hope

Chapter 8

I did meet Elizabeth while I was in Melbourne. She took me out about five times to lunch, and drove me around the city. One place we went to served lovely pancakes, and when the table was cleared, we played chess on the table top. All the squares were marked out on the table top. The game finished in a stalemate. What more could a man or woman ask for. Well they could, but it takes all all the simple fun out of the man and women thing from some of the experiences I’ve been through, and others that I have seen and heard about. I would be interested in your point of view when the times comes for me to be interrogated on that, and among other things.
We did have one very pleasant evening meal when my daughter Rachel arrived to spend a weekend with me. But I was not really up to having a real good time like I hoped I might. The treatment took a lot out of me, like it did for so many others. But we were not there for fun and games, but to be hopefully cured.


I have to admit that I was almost ready to give up before the last five days of my treatment. I just felt so lonely and fed up darting in and out of toilets, and stuck in my room almost every night watching T.V. and generally trying to amuse myself singing songs.
Missing family and friends, and socializing had become a big part of my life since I opened the door to my new life style. And that may sound trivial or crazy to those of you who have not been through some kind of similar experience, but time for me had become a very important part of my life, and I felt that I needed to fill it with something of value, and have a certain amount of fun doing it.
And, I really believe that these type of feelings are a part of being human. It is far better to express what you feel, than to hold on to it. That to my way of thinking is a soul destroyer. I believe the path I have to follow is the intensive one, rather than the extensive one.
Anyway, God is Good, and I made it through to the last day of my treatment. I thanked the staff who looked after me. Gave them a little something to chew on, and wrote a poem for them as an all over way of saying thank you.
Here is how the poem goes with the heading I put on it.


                         My thanks to the Epworth Center
                                   In Melbourne.


                    I came to you a little scared,
                            A little lonely, a little lost.
                        But as the hours and the days
                              Ticked away you drew me close
                               To your loveliness and charms
                                    And made me whole again.
                                       Shall I remember you?
                                      How could I ever forget you


That may sound a bit hypocritical, but from what I have mentioned about my feelings going through the treatment, but when I got home and settled down, the full impact of what had been done for me, cast another form of gratitude to awaken within me. God’s help is never slow in coming, It’s just that we can seldom understand why and when.
I arrived back in Auckland a day later to be greeted into the arms of my family and friends, very happy to be home again. I had to let myself settle down for a week or so, then I was back into my circle of living once again.
I will keep this chapter short because of the next one.
So those of you who are still with me, or about to join me, I hope