Apologies to regular readers... It’s been too busy for too long to write this blog.
That means... there’s been too many excitingly weird and wonderful happenings to blog about!
Here's the "titles" of some daily happenings I could have blogged, to give a taste and flavour of recent fun.
1. Flying angel in Vitoria, with night time photos
2. Baby Jesus invited me into her bedroom for ‘therapy’. An hour and a half later I came out to see her very large husband with folded arms and grim face...
3. How I taught young man in Spain to heal away 100% of his mother’s arthritic pain
4. Healing a nearby passenger's fear of flying, in mid-air from England to Spain
5. Explaining a Dutchman’s negativity was genetically inherited calms him
6. Loss of an Englishman's job leads to depression and guilt, and possible bereavement
7. UKs Advertising Standards Agency lacks ethical standards when judging complementary therapies
8. Angel in the sky – photo of a beautiful angel appearing in the Danish sky
9. The Sahara of Denmark – the church buried in sand dunes
10. Healing a bad back in a steak restaurant
11. How to cheer a miserable Danish waitress
12. Cat whispering - communicating with a Danish family cat uncovers why it was miserable
13. Danish friend had not walked from her house for 7 months - after my therapy, she walked for a mile
14. My new 7-stage program for Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and ME gains success
15. Email from patient on her miracle due to the my anti-CFS and ME program
16. May Day in Odense – free beer, Viking lunch
17. Veile church with bones of Norwegian Queen, scalps of vagabonds, and free tea and biscuits
18. Lego manager’s home in Denmark, and how to drink whisky
19. Doctor in Barbados helped by Reiki, now wants to help Reiki
20. Lady’s plea to be released from psychic attack
21. Margie and her artistic mandalas that heal and inspire
22. Getting fit in the gym after botched operation
23. Antibiotics give sunlight reaction – how to desensitise for summer sun
24. Psychiatric nurse in sauna blasé about psychiatry’s ineffectiveness
25. Conversation in sauna about DREM for trauma induced condition
26. Man left sauna changing room happier about his schizophrenic wife
27. Man in sauna said, here comes the professor – he keeps helping people
28. My doctor says he will fight me like a lion – after he fought like a lion to protect the job of abusive Dr Masoud
29. Angela Falaschi, the brilliant nutritionist, and her even more brilliant machine
30. After one healing session my terribly ill auntie now feels fine
31. Website created to inspire others was trying to inspire the creator
32. Karate research for disabled persons can’t get funding – table tennis tables different to medical research
33. If hospital consultants can’t help your illness, go to the top - ask to see a professor
34. Finding a long lost relative from Malaysia in half an hour
35. Teaching angelic perfume salesgirl in Heathrow’s Duty Free the essence of smellology - clairolfaction
36. Doctor's wife traumatised by miscarriage, crying in street, cured in 5 minutes with "Spiral Therapy"
37. Wife of doctor told she could not have children - felt my energy inside her and became pregnant that month
38. Christening for 1 year old girl - pokes tummy out each time I mention her soul job on Earth
39. How a poor teenager bought land to build a university to help relieve suffering
40. Lecture to 2,000 people in Mexico City - teaching a crowd to heal each other
41.And so on...
I cannot write more on all the above, but I'll write more about the weirdest...
Watch this space - inspirations to help our needy world...
At UK's Stansted airport, before going through X-ray, I stood by a table where passengers left non-allowable liquids. Since a terrorist tried to destroy a plane in mid-air by mixing chemicals together from bottles in his hand luggage, all liquids must be 50 ml maximum and fit in one small see-through plastic bag.
So perhaps it was not surprising that a man rushed over, placed two brand-new boxed jars of anti-wrinkle night cream on the table with receipt, and rushed to the X-ray. Maybe he had no space in his plastic bag, I thought. But I do. They look expensive and will make good presents.
As the saying goes, 'God giveth'.
Through the X-ray, in W H Smiths duty free store, one book described latest Ebook publishing methods. At £6.99 you can always learn. At the till, the assistant said, "Sorry, we can't take card today."
"Could you take plastic instead?" I joked.
"We can't take card today," he repeated seriously.
"It was a joke," I smiled. "Card and plastic are different materials. So I asked if you'd take plastic instead of card."
"I never joke with customers. The last time I did, the guy took it the wrong way and I ended up with this." His brow creased into a deep frown as he pointed to a scar near his eye.
"That's awful." I replied, sending healing energy for his obvious trauma. "I always joke."
"You're kind," he said, without smiling. He scanned the price of the book as healing energy soaked into his being.
"It's your lucky day," he said suddenly. "You get this book for free."
I accepted, puzzled. Was the £6.99 book really free that day? Or had he given me the book for being kind about the being punched? Or had healing his trauma with energy had an unexpected consequence?
Whatever, as the saying goes, 'God giveth'.
Waiting for the plane, early morning frost outside was replaced by glinting sun. The cold airport lounge heated up. I placed my warm knitted jacket over my luggage to buy some water. When I turned back, the jacket had gone, stolen.
Oh well, I thought, I hope someone needs it. The value of the anti-wrinkle creams and book was about the same as the jacket. God giveth and God taketh away.
Sharing love in the world is simple. It's simply about leaving people happier than when you met. Many people are too busy, miserable, or out of their depth in life to be happy. They have unhappy problems with money, relationships, or health. Or their life at home or at work isn't as happy as they' wish.
The thing is, science shows that a person is up to 42% more likely to be happy if a friend becomes happy.
There's no excuse not to make someone happier, unless you're too lazy, or unhappy yourself.
Oh dear, is that provocative? Are you too lazy or unhappy to make others happy! The point is, opportunities abound daily to bring happiness to others. Here's a few examples from the past few days.Bank Manager
"How are you?" I asked.
"The same," he replied. "Working hard."
I smiled. "You haven't made a fortune and retired yet then?"
He smiled back. "I wish I could."
"You could," I said cheerfully. "Google 'red paper clip house'. A man looked at a red paper clip one day, and wished he had a house instead. He did within the year by swapping the paper clip for something more valuable, then swapping again and again and again until he had a house."
"Wow. That's amazing."
"I did my version and wrote a book about it. http://www.allansweeney.com/get-rich-happily.html
I could retire if I wanted to. But I'd rather make people like you happier."
"I do feel happier. I'll try your system," the bank manager laughed. "I love it when you come in. You always make my day."Waitress
"Amazing food," my friend Phillip said, looking at the menu. "Boeuf wellington with dauphinoise, and ginger and hoisin duck prosciutto sound idyllic."
"Would you like the beef rare?" the waitress asked.
"Yes," I replied. "If it's rare it's worth more, but you'll still charge the same price." She was already happy, but I cracked a few jokes, and she laughed, even happier.Restaurant manager
"Who's that?" I asked the waitress, nodding towards a miserable, burly, man.
"That's the new manager," she said. "He hasn't smiled since he's been here."
He looked dangerous, more a grim fighter than a chirpy waiter. I called him over, hoping the words I had in my head would make him laugh, not hit me.
"Everything's brilliant here," I said. He stared at me, grimly. "The food's brilliant, the waitress is brilliant, the atmosphere's brilliant. There's just one little thing."
"What's that?" he scowled.
"You," I replied, adding before he could reply, "you'd look better in a sexy little maid's outfit."
Wow! His head shot backwards as he roared with laughter. He was still laughing as he served the next customer.Road sweeper
Walking along Eastbourne seafront with Amanda, I saw a serious-looking road-sweeper, working hard. They rarely get thanks.
“Thank you,” I called. He ignored me and bent double, to diligently pick a tiny piece of paper from a hedge. “Thank you,” I repeated. “You're doing great work there.”
He looked up and grinned. “Thank YOU. I'm just trying to make the world a better place. You caring makes me feel happy.”Turkish chip shop owner
Driving through Worthing late at night, is not the best place to be if you're hungry. A 'kebab and chips' shop offered the best hope of sustenance. Inside, two Turkish men served from a wide hatch surrounded by loving Islamic symbols.
I could feel the men's sadness. But it didn't feel like a huge problem to resolve.
“Nice to see two men putting such love into their food,” I said.
They looked startled, as if I was trying to be horrid, not nice.
“You are special,” I said. “If only the world had more kind people like you, the world would be a much nicer place.”
Suddenly, they broke into broad smiles. “You're the first person to be nice to us today.” They didn't stop smiling, even as I walked out with my bag of love-filled chips.
Just needed to give them a little faith back in human nature, to help them be happier. Dri-cleaner's shop assistant
The gorgeous young lady assistant smiled as I entered the dri-cleaners. Her smile seems winning, but hides something dark,
"Good morning. How are you?" she smiled politely.
"Better than you by the look of it," I replied.
"I'm a therapist."
Her smile shrank a little. "Oh..."
"What's happened?" I asked.
"My best friend was murdered. A hammer smashed through his skull..."
"Do thoughts keep repeating?"
"Yes. There can't be a funeral for three months, until after the post-mortem. They have to reconstruct the skull, put pieces together. I can't stop thinking of my friend's skull being pieced together."
Her smile had dropped. Tears dropped too.
After kind words of empathy, I offered help for her post-traumatic flash-back memories, and potential bereavement.
"I'll help your friends too," I said. "No charge."
How can we charge when we might have been guided by the Gods to meet, to bring happier smiles to the world?
There are so many ways to make people feel happier.
Praise, therapy, humour, advice, kindness, reassurance or thanks. The list is endless... Can you think of more...? And become even more like an angel...?
- Due to severe immune deficiency, countless hospitals in the UK and abroad have kindly offered me bed and board. I could blog for weeks on in-patient fun I've had since childhood. What's the point of moping around, even in hospital?
Today's hernia operation for my friend was an opportunity for more hospital fun.
She waited two and a half hours to be wheeled in and cut open. But in that time we'd laughed long and loud, cheered up two miserable-looking patients whose previous ops had gone wrong, and helped two nurses understand how to contact souls of dead relatives.
“We have a bed space for you,” said a nurse. She was right. There was a 6-bedded ward with 5 beds. My friend was given the space for a bed. “We'll find a bed, then wheel you to the theatre,” said the nurse.
“Theatre? I usually buy front seats,” I said. “How much are yours?”
The nurse laughed. “At one time we had glass panels - relatives watched operations. But too many fainted.”
“It's OK,” I said. “I'm psychic. I'll have a peek anyway. If you find I've fainted, you'll know I saw too much.”
“Are you really psychic?” she asked, seriously.
“Yes.” It felt she wanted to say more, but was unsure. So I added, “I was co-presenter of a live psychic TV show, interpreting viewers' unexplained mystical experiences.”
“Great. I believe in all that.” Most people do – they just need confidence to talk about it, without fear of being laughed at. “I see my dead father regularly. Some people don't accept that, but I do.”
I didn't ask if she saw souls of hospital patients who died. Not when my friend was about to be anaesthetised.
Curtains pulled around the lady opposite. “Last time,” she said so loudly everyone in the ward heard, “you said I'd be out in a day. I was out in 5 days. And was then re-admitted for 6 weeks with complications.”
The doctor just listened.
“Morphine didn't work on me. I've taken every anti-pain tablet available, and still get pain.”
Scratch-marks on the window by her bed, looked as if someone with pain had tried to claw their way out.
“Your anaesthetic didn't work,” she continued. “I felt needle pain in the back of my hand for weeks after.” The doctor murmered something. “I don't want to talk to you,” she interrupted. “AND I DON'T WANT YOUR ANAESTHETIC. I'd rather you bashed me on the head, and I wake up after the op at home.”
“It's Ok. We'll ask you to count down. 10, 9, 8, 7 and so on until you're asleep.”
“What if I get down to 1? Do I then go -1, -2, -3 and so on? What if it gets to -98, -99, -100?”
“You'll be asleep before then,” the doctor reassured.
“If I was asleep, what if I walked in my sleep? How would that affect the operation?”
A second nurse arrived to my friend, and dithered about, not doing much. It was apparent why when she spoke to me. “My friend says you're psychic. Are you?”
“Yes.” It was obvious she wanted me to help her, not her to help my friend. “How can I help you?” I asked.
“Can you contact my daughter's dead friend? Is he OK? Is anyone with me? Can you see anything negative by me?”
I could. To her right stood a smaller figure, at shoulder height. It was dark, almost black. I tuned out. With my friend about to be wheeled away and cut open, this wasn't the time or place for potentially negative spirit rescue.
“Can you see anything negative with me?” she repeated.
“No,” I said. I can't see anything negative because I've tuned out. But she seems to know... “Even if I saw something negative, I'd never say yes. Psychics are here to help people, not give them negatives to think about.”
“Can you contact my daughter's friend?”
“Yes. Here's my card. Your options are, I tell you everything I see. Or I type the chat with your spirit on my laptop, and email you. Or I help you meet your dead friend. If you see and talk with a spirit yourself, it's more realistic.”
Later, we joked with the “pain lady” opposite, to alleviate stress of a second operation going wrong. Another patient needed laughs too. She'd waited 6 hours to have bone from her hip and grafted to her wrist to correct a previous wrist operation that had gone wrong.
If I was having an op in this hospital, I'd be getting worried...
“It's time for your op,” said a third nurse. “Put on these stockings. They stop thrombosis.”
“Wearing stockings is nothing to do with stopping thrombosis,” I said to my friend “It's the doctor's fetish. He likes operating on women in stockings.”
She was wheeled to the operating theatre laughing. When she comes out, I pray she laughs more than the other two patients did when they returned from operations that went wrong...
After my friend woke, her first words were, “You know I never dream. Well, I had a dream! Three white people stood on my right, two stood by my left. They chatted with me, happily. The ones on the right disappeared first.”
Great. Two spirit teams helped. Maybe prayers were answered. Maybe my (or my friend's or the surgeon's) guides or angels gave support...
Or maybe other guides were learning how to be spirit psychic surgeons, to do similar ops in future?
This weekend was the second embarrassing school reunion I've attended.
The first reunion was five years ago. I hadn't seen the 'kids' for decades, and didn't recognise anyone. Even my best mate who visited me in Margate as my first teen-womanising buddy. Despite searching his face hard, I couldn't recognise a single feature about him. All these men looked too fat or too sick, too white-haired or bald.
But they all remembered me. Which made it even more embarrassing.
One tall man hugged me, then dropped his head on my shoulder and sobbed loudly for ages. I didn't even know who he was. After, he said he was so happy to see me alive. I'd been so ill as a child, he hadn't expected me to live beyond my 20s. I still can't remember who he was.
Luckily, despite being ill, I had a photographic memory, so easily passed exams – I could remember and read any topic, in any page, of any book.
My boarding school in Bury St Edmunds is historic. In the year 903 King Edmund's body was laid in the priests' college, part of the school.
Soon after, King Canute arrived. This wise Danish prince ruled Denmark, England, Norway, and Sweden. He is famous for sitting in his throne on a beach and trying to command the tide not to wet his feet - to show his courtiers he is not as all-powerful as God.
King Canute paid from his royal purse for boys to attend school. He even freed sons of slaves and paid for them to attend school too.
By the Royal Command of King Edward V1, in 1550 my school became a Royal School, the second “King Edward VI School”
in England. It's now had that name for 450 years. Original school rules still exist:
- Rules for staff in 1550 AD
- Women like deadly plagues shall be kept at a distance.
- Teachers shall never advance to fresh subjects until earlier ones are thoroughly understood.
- The teachers shall appoint two boys called censors to note offences.
- The teachers shall secretly appoint a third boy to watch the other two and report to the master any offences overlooked or not noticed.
- Boys shall amuse themselves in decent sports such as the use of the javelin or archery.
- The privilege of recreation shall only be allowed on Thursdays and only then if the weather is fine and the work of the scholars justifies it.
- Rules for parents in 1550 AD
- You shall find your child sufficient ink, and candles for the winter.
- You shall allow your child a bow, three arrow shafts, bow strings and an arm guard to exercise shooting.
- School rules for the boys in 1550 AD
- Those who cannot read and write shall be excluded.
- Any boy misbehaving himself in any public place shall be flogged.
- Boys shall amuse themselves in decent sports such as the use of the javelin or archery.
- They shall speak Latin in school.
- Every boy shall have a knife (used to sharpen a feathered quill pen).
- When they have need to write, the boys shall use their knees as a table.
So in 1550 children attended school with bows and arrows. It hasn't changed much. In my school days, we attended with use of bren-guns and 303 rifles. Same thing, just more modern weaponry.
Previously I'd attended a Margate boarding school for "delicate children", a polite phrase for children in danger of death. Some children died.
Thank God my health improved, and I was seen as capable. So local government paid my boarding school fees to attend the minor public school, in the same way King Canute paid for poorer boys to attend this school over 1,000 years ago.
I was still too ill though. Friends were there, but not enough. Most of my energy was spent staying alive. Healing and love hadn't entered by thoughts. I wasn't 'cured' by a healer until many years later.
Inevitably I was bullied for being a sick child. Thank God the bullies had no bows and arrows, and no bren guns or rifles.
School bullies should be shunned. They damage psyche that needs healing later in life. But what when school bullies grow up, and meet kids they bullied when a child? Should the bully apologise? Or should we imagine they've learned a lesson, and moved on with love?
Luckily, I've moved on with love, and school bullies weren't at the reunion. But if they had been, I would have sent love to them anyway. They might need love too...
Antique plough, and shire horses
Old-type caterpillar tractor with plough
New tractor & 4-furrow plough
Trophies for the grounded winners
Spiritual beginners sometimes fly too high, too soon. Most return to Earth easily. A few don't. They stay 'up with the fairies', more in heaven than on Earth. Then they're told to 'come down to earth', or to 'get grounded'.
A favourite remedy for spiritual 'too-high-flyers' is to imagine they are a strong tree with roots; then to adjust the roots to the depth needed, then to the width needed, that day. Too shallow or too narrow roots may not ground enough; too deep or too thick roots may ground too much. For best results, grounding is customised daily.
Other favourites for grounding are walking, watching TV, or eating chocolate. The latter always works for me! :-)
Today I found a new option for earthing and grounding. Ploughing! Churning earth ready for new crops.
It was the 82nd Laughton and District Annual Ploughing Match. The 82nd... I tried to find the excitement that could lead to a ploughing competition being held for 82 years.
Contestants compete to plough the deepest and straightest furrow, sending rough chunks of earth neatly to the left of the furrow in a long heap. Then they re-plough the same furrow, this time sending the earth back into the furrow it had come from. They're judged to see who grinds the earth the straightest.
To add 'excitement', antique ploughs are pulled by cart horses or steam engines. Modern diesel machines pull huge shiny ploughs that gouge four furrows at once, and immediately return the earth back into the furrow.
Exciting for contestants perhaps. But not exactly a spectator sport. I can't imagine 80,000 people excitedly cheering an Olympics ploughing race.
I can't think of a less interesting job than to check how straight a ditch is. One official said his son was Chairman of the event, and participants just win a small trophy, otherwise there's no point to it.
At least the farmer who owned the land, who by the looks of the ground had just harvested 100s of acres of wheat, got his land ploughed for free.
But I certainly felt grounded and earthed. There was no sign of an angel anywhere.
I wondered how many spiritual 'flying-too-high' people drive tractors. They all had roughened features, and deep furrowed faces, though not in straight lines. There was not a sign of a spiritual expression anywhere.
On reflection, perhaps spiritual people in need of earthing should not do ploughing to come down to Earth. Judging from the people at the ploughing match, perhaps ploughing gives way too much grounding.
Having my toe-nails shaved wasn't on a list of exciting things to do before I die. But sitting in the podiatrist's clinic, with bare feet outstretched, was impressive. The array of gleaming metal instruments would help any burglar or torturer. And the nurse would help any angel.
She looked angelic - blond hair, blue eyes, serene face, white outfit. She only needed pretend wings. But then, perhaps she doesn't have to pretend...
Naturally, conversation turned to angels.
"Do you believe in angels," I asked, as she held my big toe lightly, and deftly sliced the top off the nail.
"I'm not sure," she said, still looking down and slicing. Perhaps it's just as well she didn't look up.
"You're not sure?" I queried. People don't usually say they're not sure... There could be more to this story...
"Yes, I'm not sure. My great-grandfather believed in angels and lots of mystical things. But my great-grandmother was practical and down to earth. She'd never believe in anything unless it was proved."
"Most people don't believe mystical subjects until they experience one. If they don't ignore it, they then choose to find a 'rational' explanation; or think they're ill and see a psychiatrist; or accept the experience as reality."
The angelic nurse took out a pair of sharpened tongs that could have been used in the Spanish Inquisition, if they weren't so gleaming. "One day, my great-grandmother was in the garden, when she fell forward. As she fell, an angel suddenly appeared, touched her forehead, and pushed her upright again. She didn't fall."
"After that, she believed in angels, like great-grandfather. The angel saved her."
"Great story," I said, as I watched this angel save my feet.
"The front door needs varnishing," I said to the smiling man in the shop. "One litre of mahogany varnish, please."
His smile dropped. "I recognise you," he said backing away slightly. "Aren’t you that wizard? You don’t need varnish. Just put a spell on the door."
"I’m not that sort of wizard," I smiled. "Healers never put spells on anything. We only help whoever’s in need.’
His smile returned, and he took a pace forwards. "There’s a lot needed here," he said as he nodded towards another assistant.
The dark-eyed lady was saying goodbye to a customer. Her energy felt as dark as her eyes.
The split second the customer left, her face changed to a snarl. "That ******* customer. He wanted to know what ******* type of brass the ***** locks are made from!"
"Did you tell him?" I asked.
"I ******** work here. It’s ****** obvious what **** brass they're made from. It’s ******* shiny brass!"
"Perhaps he needed to know if the brass was for exterior use, or for a yacht in the harbour?" I suggested.
"She hesitated before repeating, "They’re all ******* SHINY brass!"
Over-reactions have a cause. Being psychic, we're sometimes 'guided' with questions. "Do you enjoy your job?" I asked. The response shook me.
"No I don’t! I’d rather have ******* needles in my ***** eyes!"
Needles in her eyes! Maybe she doesn't want to see something in life.
And then it all poured out, about how her mentally ill son was arrested whilst carrying a meat cleaver to teach someone who had bumped into him a lesson and he can't see it was wrong. And how her son’s Japanese wife could not take the aggravation and had returned to Japan with the grandchildren, two and four years old and she can't see how the grandparents felt. And how her husband who usually ran the shop had gone to Japan to visit the grandchildren and already they can’t speak to him in English only Japanese and he can't see how to communicate with them. And how her son’s wife had said to her husband that she doesn’t want the children and he can take them back to England, and she can't see the problems. And how her husband feels bad and won’t take the children away from their mother because he can't see a win-win outcome. And how she feels like going to Japan to sort them out but can't see how she could do it. And how her son is still in a mental hospital here, and can't see a way out.
"But it doesn’t bother me," she added. "I just put it all out of my mind."
She mentioned the words "can't see" many times. I can see why she wants needles in her eyes. Like countless others, she’d rather not see or face her problems. Until one day, for some, there's a crash.
Maybe this is her crash? "You might think you put it all out of your conscious mind,’ I said, looking at the eczema on her face and hands. "But sometimes it comes out unconsciously in another way, such as in your skin..." I added gently, "Or even swearing..."
She thought for a few moments, before saying, "Yes, I suppose it does. It also affects my diabetes and blood pressure. The doctor told me to relax, but I don’t want medication up to my eyeballs."
"Suppose there was another way to relax, without drugs? Would you do it?"
"Yes, I probably would."
I pulled a CD from my bag. "I wondered why I brought my CD today. Maybe its your Destiny. An academic at the Institute of Psychiatry in London said it’s probably the best thing in the world for stress."
She glared, as if thinking I was about to sell her 'shiny brass'. "It's safe," I said. "If this was a free gift, would you promise to use it for three months?"
"Yes," she said. She almost smiled. "I promise."
I believed her. A light had entered the darkness of her eyes.
"You see?" I said to the man. "No spells used! I'll take the mahogany door varnish, please."
Amanda is a scientist, so to see mystical phenomena is astonishing. "Look, look," she cried. "It's a UFO!"
I peered from Margate beach, where banks of the River Thames estuary join the North Sea, into the cloudless night sky. Sure enough, a strange pink light floated from right to left a few hundred meters in front of us.
Seeing a UFO isn't unusual in Margate. I remember other sightings...
Valerie, an ex-girlfriend, and her sister Lynnette saw a huge cigar shaped UFO float past them on nearby cliffs.
My daughter and a boyfriend saw many saucer-shaped UFOs swoop down as if from behind the moon.
Three of my students, Daniel, Marco and Sav saw UFOs flying past my therapy centre on the beach. The UFOs zigzagged in the sky, before flying off fast. Daniel saw them on two occasions!
And I almost saw a UFO. At 1am, lights flashed on rooftops near my home. Within minutes, Radio Invicta, a local radio station, had calls from people saying they'd seen a saucer shaped UFO with flashing lights and a 'bubble' on top. I'd have seen it too, if I'd looked in the other direction!
Two of my friends saw that UFO. One shouted to her husband in bed, saying, "Come quick, there's a UFO flying past the window!" He replied, "Come back to bed. Don't be stupid!" He was the stupid one. He missed it!
The UK Government even employed a UFO specialist from 1950 to 2009. the officer was part of a special Ministry of Defence team. Over 10,000 UFO "sightings" were investigated - one every two days! The Daily Telegraph headlined, "MoD (Ministry of Defence) to open British UFO X-Files". On the release of official documents in 2008 the BBC News website headlined, "Files released on UFO sightings"
. The Daily Star ran with "Britain's X-Files open at last".
UFO sightings in 1997 in West Wales "inundated" the local MP Nicholas Edwards. He asked the MoD to investigate. A local hotel owner said a dome-like object landed "like the moon falling down" behind the hotel - she saw two tall silver-suited "faceless humanoids" come out of the object and start "making measurements".
Quote from the government expert... "From time to time, we may receive a report from aircrew, air traffic control or the police that, in our judgement, may deserve a closer look. People often see things in the sky they cannot explain. Sometimes, as concerned citizens, they report them to us since they believe we will be able to identify what they have seen."
So this latest sighting wasn't surprising.
"There's a second UFO coming," cried Amanda. "It's pulsating... pink..."
"That's strange," I replied. "Planes don't have pink lights. Maybe it is a UFO."
Amanda became more excited. "It's disappeared! The first UFO has disappeared! Wow! Get the camera quick for the second one!"
"Too late," I said. "That's just disappeared too."
Amanda looked disappointed, until she cried out excitedly, "There's two more coming! It's really weird, the way their pink lights pulse!"
"Come on," I said, perhaps too calmly. "Let's go inside."
"Wait. I'll look through the binoculars... Look! They're shaped like balls! They've got fire inside!"
It was lovely seeing excitement on Amanda's face.
But for me they were not unidentified FOs any more. I'd identified the pink Chinese lanterns with a lighted, flickering candle inside!
Amanda soon worked it out too. Excitement was replaced with scientific realism.
Fun while it lasted. Maybe like my ex-girlfriend and her sister, my daughter and her boyfriend, my students, and all those people who phoned Radio Invicta, I'll see a UFO flying over Margate one day soon...
A birthday for a 90 year old father should be special. So two years ago, I hired a band that played my father's favourite Cockney sing-along-songs like "Lambeth Walk" and "Down by the Old Bull and Bush"; his favourite sea shanties like, "What shall we do with the drunken sailor"; and Australian tunes like "Waltzing Matilda".
Last year I hired an impressionist. Tommy Cooper was a master comedian, until he died, live stage and TV, in the middle of a joke. People thought he was joking. He'd actually had a massive heart attack. It's what he would have wanted, the same as many masters of their craft, to die while sharing their mastership gift with the world.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxmA9BgUO7s http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZVjPxAhoPQ
This year was more sedate. Actor and musician friends I asked, couldn't do a mid-week performance.
But as this blog has been going for less than a year, for friends and family, and to honour a master comedian, here's a few photos of last year's happy time.