Congratulations, Jayne.

Long life and happiness to mother and son.

What's his name?

Many congratulations Jayne (and Jim) on grand (and great grand!) parenthood! Good news, indeed!

You may be too young to be a great-grandmother, but I bet your former status was at least well-above-average-grandmother. So you shouldn't have far to go.

Congrats!

Congratulations, Jayne!

Susan

Clive, Jim, David, Annie, Mark, Julie and Susan,

Thank you all for your messages and kind thoughts. The baby is called Louis Matthew, and mother and baby are now back at home (it was ten days in hospital when I had my first child!); they're both doing well.

I look forward to the next posting of Good News! :)

Jayne

Much joy, Jayne.

(Regarding the election that was the original reason for this post: Nevermind.)

A hopeful song from the SD Master Chorale.

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Thanks Julie. You've resurrected in me a song that captured me first when I was a young boy. Now it's back full force. So thanks.

Here is another song on the same trajectory towards a better world:

https://youtu.be/6Mp0A8kKk-o

It has always defined my point of view that hope and love go hand in hand.
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I don’t think I’ve ever posted here, but the present crisis, makes one do odd things. For some time now, my wife and I have, for our own safety, shut ourselves off as much as possible from contact with the wider world – following government advice and the earnest recommendation of our doctor son. But the good news…

On 1 April we celebrated our fiftieth wedding anniversary. Immodestly, we can say that, while many years ago both of us got very lucky when we suffered bouts of serious ill health, apart from that, neither of us is at all surprised we are still together. Then, shortly after our anniversary, it was my birthday. These two happy events, however, had to be marked from within the confines of our cloister – a very pleasant cloister, but a cloister still – and without the presence of our three children and eight grandchildren, which was most upsetting.

We have been closed off for nearly four weeks now. A while ago, I had the comic-horror vision of the two of us waving from behind our front window at our children and grandchildren all lined up across the lawn. They stare and stare, with various expressions of pity and alarm, at a strange couple who, because they have been confined to the house for months, have not been able to get a haircut and have come to resemble nothing so much as Ben Gunn and his wife in an alternative version of Treasure Island. I realized that what had drifted into my head was an illustration in the edition of the story I had had as a boy – Ben Gunn with shaggy overgrown locks and a long beard. He was marooned for three years, I think. I hope we are not shut away for so long.

Clive Watkins