R's rue

Jamie Dornan as Elliot Stanley in "The Tourist" I should have written about "The Tourist" before.  After all, I finished watching it ten days ago. Using the BBC i-player, I got ahead of the television schedule and watched the six one hour episodes in six days. That still seems like cheating to me. Written by Harry and Jack Williams and directed by Chris Sweeney, "The Tourist" is set in a dusty part of rural Australia. The central character - known at first as "The Man" - has been in a dramatic road accident which has robbed him of his memory. He has no idea who he is or why he is even in Australia. There are a handful of killings in the show and as I have indicated before, I am not a fan of killings - they often seem gratuitous but in this instance I was prepared to let them pass for the greater dramatic good. "The Tourist" is craftily put together with quirky humour and many eye-catching details. It travels backward and forward in ...

 I come to you today with tears. Tears of gratitude. That you delight in my joy, and comfort me in my pain. I’m having to be still and rest. I’m having to sit. Just rejoice in the blessings that come. They will come. I have to trust. Thank you for being constants in this journey. Every time I feel alone, I come here and read the words of encouragement you leave me. And I wonder what I’ve done to deserve such love. God is here. I know that. Thank you. Happy Friday.  from R's rue https://ift.tt/33bM4xH

 Yesterday, I sort of threw away a comment that I had decided not to carry on with leasing the field. I didn’t mean for it to sound dismissive. It was just time for it to go. Once, a few years ago now the field was filled with the chatter and movement of animals, activity surrounding four large allotment beds crammed with neat rows of vegetables, fruit bushes and the like. The Ukrainian Village housed nearly 100 hens in one summer, with satellite houses providing a home for the dim hysterical Runner ducks, a gaggle of geese and the slow moving, delightfully morose turkeys who glided around the paddock like galleons in full sail. Four pigs lived in the sty in the corner triangle right at the bottom of the field and up in the Ash trees on the Church borders came the noisy chatter of the guinea fowl who serenaded the entire village every morning and every dusk for years and years and years. The Open Allotment days eventually turned into a successful  village fete with a...