Life in Bristol

Bristol is beautiful. I don’t know if the residents who live here really understand just how beautiful this city is.

As a newcomer from South Africa I am blown away by the old buildings, the art gallery, the university, the parks and gardens.  So thank you Bristol, and thank you to all my new friends, I could not feel more welcome if I tried.

Onward ever onward

There are three guarantees in life.  Tax, change, and death.

This journal is mainly about change. I will pay the tax that I am obliged to pay and not begrudge Caesar what is due to Caesar. Death will find me. when it finds me. But until it does I will be elusive, fit, and as alive as a bee in a bottle.

At 81, and having moved a number of times in my life, from Pretoria to Kempton Park, back to Pretoria, back to Kempton Park, to Kensington in Johannesburg, high on the ridge, to Knysna, I was not daunted by the prospect of moving to Bristol in the UK. A slightly longer jump to a totally new environment and country, but just another move. Another change.

The transition from the idealistic dream of being a pastor and preaching the gospel to laying bricks and building homes, may seem extreme but in reality it is simply the manifestation of life. The nub of that being the fact that God laughs when we say we are planning to do whatever we are planning to do. In retrospect it seems that I was destined to build stuff.  Either houses, or additions to houses, or the complete rebuilding of houses, or businesses. A. lawnmower repair business,