In
Britain recently, a young footballer collapsed and technically died
during a game. But he defied the odds and survived to play another
day. People soon began to speak and write of a miracle and it was
clear they weren't using this as a metaphor; they really meant
there'd been divine intervention. A few days ago, a British
parachutist smashed into the face of a mountain and, despite having a
broken leg, clung to the rock face until, after three hours, he fell and
died. As he'd called his fiancée on his mobile phone, I'd say it's
pretty certain a few people put in some prayers during those
three hours. But no one has since talked or written of an unfinished miracle; or a semi-miracle; or a
non-miracle; or, finally, a failed miracle. I wonder why not. I guess
it's because divine intervention can only effect a positive answer to
prayers. So, absent that, we must assume God decided not to
intervene. But why not? Was He busy with something else? Or in a bad
mood? Or averse to the particular individual or individuals involved?
Maybe he did get involved but, somehow, the Devil got the better of
this particular tussle. Anyway, it strikes me as funny that one never
hears a discussion of the occasions when miracles don't take place.
The worldview seems myopic on this aspect of terrestrial-celestial
interchange.
Back
down on earth . . . In a Times
leader today, the author wrote: "The European Commission has
denied that it is working on contingency plans for a Greek exit from
the single currency." As I wrote some time ago, "This is implausible or, if true,
alarming."
Specifically as regards Spain, the country's credit rating was today
reduced to near-junk status and ten-year bond yields came very close
to 7%. Not good news. But even worse were the forecasts that the
credit rating would soon hit the junk level. Some good news is needed
soon.
Here's
a bit, though I don't see it affecting the bond
markets. A new bit of marine fauna has been discovered. This is Uroptychus cartesi, a crab (or, some
say, a squat lobster) between 5 and 7cm in size, found in the
underwater mountains facing the Galician coast. Some way away from
its closest relative in the Caribbean Sea. Picture here.
Well,
I finished James Michener's 940-page Iberia today.
I found the book infuriating for several reasons and - to be honest -
resorted to speed-reading or simply skipping many of the pages. This
is not to say Michener can't write well; he certainly can. But if
anyone's read this particular book and found it impressive, I'd be
interested to know why.
Environmentalists
in the UK - and doubtless in the USA - are going that extra mile. Or
at least 6 feet. They're being buried in coffins made of wool.
Honest. It puts the mental into environmentalism.
I'm
sure I'm not the first person to notice that female is male
with a bit of iron. I suppose Mrs Thatcher becomes the prototype
female.
Finally
. . . As one or two people have been unkind about my owl, I'm giving
you a more head-on foto. (Or more eye-on at least). I think it's a benign face. And when I tried to scare my daughter's cat with it
this afternoon, she showed nil fear and began to lick her tail. But she did move when I threw it at her.
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