When I first read Philip Larkin's verse, somewhere in the early 80's, it struck a deep chord inside me. I made an immediate connection with both the way he saw the world and the manner in which he said it. Larkin is not everyone's cup of tea, of course. His pessimistic take on reality (tempered by a certain reluctant joy) will not impress young 'the world is my oyster' squad. But they are not likely to be reading poetry anyway.

I don't always agree with Larkin and what he thinks about life, even though I understand why he does. I was reading, by way of example, Aubade, on a recent 2RPH program, which is a marvellous poem. Larkin was an atheist, or at least an agnostic, so for him Christianity is

'..the vast moth-eaten musical brocade/Created to pretend we never die.'

It's a brilliant metaphor, so visual, but only true if you are without faith. I can appreciate the skill, even the idea, but still respectfully disagree. Written 20 years earlier, Church Going (one of my favourite poems), talks of a time  when 'superstition, like belief, must die' and 'what remains' is but 'grass, weedy pavement, brambles, buttress, sky.' The juice has gone from the fruit, leaving only a crumpled skin.

It's very tempting to take this position - all that is is purely material - but we all breath a final breath. Faith is not necessarily about living forever, crossing the Jordan, if you like, but that is a component. It is very much about the now, how I live my life from day to day, where I place my trust, to whom do I look towards.

I wouldn't want any of Larkin's poems to be unwritten, just because I hold a different world view. Some of them are masterpieces.

Looking at the world as it appears today, it is hard not to be seized by an eschatological terror. As we enter a new phase of the 'information age', one that may be dominated by A1, the hype about the potential for human progress is counterpointed by what looks, to a keen observer, like a new age of decline.

I have written before about the most obvious areas of concern - climate change and it's uncertain consequences, nuclear arms, the breakdown of the post-war consensus, the demise of social mores and so forth. 

Never let it be said that I am a prophet of doom - for I am not - but if you add all the natural disasters that are upon us - earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunami, bushfires, floods ( I could go on) - then it would take a true Panglossian to make a case for long-term human thriving. There are tipping points as far as the eye can see.

From a Christian point of view, this was all foreshadowed in Scripture. The exact nature and timing of 'the end' is a mystery, entirely in the hands of God. But we are told to watch out for the signs. They seem to be plentiful, though one should be careful not to be self-deceiving.

I am fast running out of ways to keep fit. My years of running were stopped by knee problems. My three decades of lap swimming ended with shoulder injuries which only surgery might repair. And my walking career has been constantly thwarted by both knee and foot problems which will not get any better.

I could take up cycling again, though likely with another e-bike. I do have a tendency to fall off from time to time so spectacles will be necessary. To stop more falls, need it be said.

In prepping another Writers from the Vault episode for 2RPH I came across a monologue that I hadn't thought about in three decades. In the prologue to Henry V, a character named 'Chorus' enters, and proceeds to tell the audience that the play they are about to see involves vast armies, battles, foreign locations and so forth. But alas, you will have to use your imagination, for here we have only a bare stage and 'this wooden O.' So, go to it.

In Branagh's film of the same play, the Chorus is played by Derek Jacobi, who gives a masterful performance throughout. I decided that I would use the opening speech for the next Writers program, but, having watched Jacobi again, have no hope of coming anywhere near his magical level.

But I am not an actor, merely a cipher for the works of others. And contentedly so.

 The elderly man holding 'The End is Nigh' sign as passers-by give him a wide berth is very much someone who is ridiculed, being either mad, fanatical or plain foolish.

And yet, budding eschatologists can hardly have missed the plethora of end-time signs can keep popping up with increasing frequency. Sure, it is a fraught business and we (I speak here of Christians) are encouraged to tread carefully, as only God the Father knows the actual time in human history when the curtain will fall.

Still, the last 100 years or so has provided much to muse about - two world wars, the invention of atomic and nuclear weapons, the amazing emergence of Israel as a state after a two and half thousand year hiatus, the increasing fragmentation of international relations, the faster pace of life, the rise of AI, the threat of climate change, the scourge of illicit drugs....It just goes on and on really and provides decent material for the consideration of anyone interested in a Biblical interpretation of the end of history.

It is unwise to be drawn into making predictions or claiming the fulfilment of prophecy. But it is certainly wise to pay attention.

 FIFA have hinted that they might be interested in expanding (yet again) the number of teams playing at World Cup Finals every four years. So far we have moved up from 16 (the original formulation) to 24, to 36 and currently, 48. The figure they have in mind, apparently, is 64 nations. Why? 

The answer we keep getting is equity and participation. After all , look how well minnows Cape Verde did as a result of the most recent expansion. Don't we want more of that?

Of course, the truth is far less idealistic. It's all about money and FIFA wants a lot more of it, which they would get in spades with a bigger competition.

Surely a better idea would be to allow all of the current list of FIFA men's rankings - 211 nations in total - to participate in the finals competition. That way, all the pesky qualification rounds could be eliminated. The duration of the tournament would likely be a few months so FIFA could make a packet from sponsorship and advertising and broadcast rights.

Come to think of it, it might be prudent to add in a few extra places, bringing the number of participants to 220, to account for nations that currently don't exist, or potential colonies on the Moon and Mars.

 Lately I have been 'camping in', my expression for living in a house that has no running water. On Sunday a pipe attached to an outside tap burst and I had to shut off the water at the meter. I can draw a little water for a bucket-full but only for a minute or two. There is, of course, no hot water as I shut off that service too as a precaution.

Luckily, the girls are in Melbourne for a few days. I can cope with the inconvenience but I doubt that they could. I do enjoy the somewhat spartan manner of heating a jug and sitting in a thimbleful of warm water in the bath. 

The plumbers are here and having a hard time of locating where the gal pipe meets the copper, the better to shut off the former. This house is old and jerry-built and nothing conforms to any proper specification so they will have to improvise. I hope things are resolved today for the sake of my family, who will be home on Friday.