Ian (left) is nearly thirty and it's ridiculous he’s my grandson; grandsons play in sandpits. Months, sometimes years, pass between our meetings when bitter, meaningless spats often ensue. Usually about computer practice. I find these stimulating; for Ian they are water off a duck's back.
Recently Ian felt constrained to send me a gift. Although he sees me as an old fart he would more readily admit to liking Cliff Richard than despatch an old-fartish present (socks for instance). He knows I diddle simple tunes on my piano keyboard; hence a book ("150 Beloved Hymns including Amazing Grace, Be Thou My Vision," etc) complete with piano scores.
I appreciate the thought behind this gift which turns out to be slightly exotic. The American collection includes hymns unfamiliar in the UK. Often with ambiguous titles. Higher Ground, for instance, surely has a military theme. How Firm A Foundation is probably sung by estate agents (USA: realtors). Jesus Paid It All dwells on the resolution of capitalism.
I enjoy the style recommendations: To God Be The Glory (Moderately) vs. Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus (Meditatively). Sweet By And By (Cheerfully) vs. Take The Name Of Jesus With You (Brightly). Plus the enigmatic: Rock Of Ages (Prayerfully).
Hours of harmless fun
WIP Second hand (34,059 words)
(Sadhu) slid back the glass partition. “I have switched on the air conditioning. It is a powerful system though quiet; you may smoke if you wish. The drive will last three-quarters of an hour. The reading lights are on and there are magazines in the door pockets.”
… She said, laughing. “This car is for executives but I work in a supermarket. Not as an executive.”
“The car is equally suitable for an English rose.” It was a phrase he’d obviously honed and she felt compelled to simper.