From my diary

I’ve been feeling guilty for not getting the August post out there from the Chronography of 354.  I have the draft materials on disk, but I do have to do some work, and I have had no time.  At least that is out there.

A correspondent wrote to me and mentioned Petrus Crabbe.  I wondered who he was, and drew a complete blank on a google search.  I located a version of the Franciscan Authors article behind a paywall, and had the sense to google the opening words.  This led me to an old version of their site, which in turn took me to the real thing.

I thought that it would be useful to those who come after if there was a brief Wikipedia article on Petrus Crabbe, so I drafted one.  It was stupid of me, I know, but I was a little curious.  But what a mess Wikipedia has become.  Once you just created the article.  Now you must now jump through endless hoops merely to start typing, and then your “draft” must get “approved” by somebody of unknown talents and learning.   Well, I wrote a few words, but needless to say this was promptly rejected by some uneducated deadbeat as “not notable”.  I don’t propose to waste life negotiating with such people.  But it shows how empty the claim “the encyclopedia that anybody can edit” now is.  If the internet as a whole had required website authors to seek approval before posting, it would not exist.  If Wikipedia had done so when it started, it would not now exist.  Silly people.  Luckily my own blog post (“unreliable source”, scream the muppets) should fill the gap.

These few days are incredibly hot, and it is really impossible to do anything here.  Fortunately I purchased some mobile aircon units a decade ago, and these are holding the heat at bay quite nicely.  Two days ago a venetian blind arrived, and is holding off the white heat of the afternoon sun quite nicely.

I found the plastic bag containing John the Deacon manuscripts on the floor, but I have transferred it to a cupboard.  One day I shall return to this.

I intend to let my old house, which I had to visit a couple of days ago.  Driving back, I passed the new crematorium that appeared a few years ago, down the road, a couple of miles away.  I remember driving past it and thinking rather morbidly that my ashes would most likely be buried there.  Now… clearly they will not.  What we assume is forever is often transitory.  I could never see how I would leave that house.  Yet here I am.

I have a feeling that the Lord has moved me out here, into a village in the countryside, for a reason.  I wonder what He is up to.  But “all things work together for good, for those that love God.”


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