Episode 57: Going Underground

Some 200 feet below the Pumping Station at Papplewick, Nottinghamshire, there is a huge aquifer- an underground supply of water that never runs dry. This is Part 2 of my RogueCast on the pumping station.

 

Half a mile to the north of the pump house, there is a remarkable underground reservoir, which the official narrative would have us was built in a matter of months by a construction company from Wolverhampton.

This time, I shot some of the working machines and more footage of the two massive beam pumps – all of which constitutes a magnificent legacy from a time when our ancestors were evidently more skilled in architecture and engineering than we are today.

The underground reservoir is stunning in its crypt-like quality and it’s hard to believe that it has not been filled with water since 1920.

 

Many thanks to all the volunteers at the Pumping Station, without whom none of this wonderful history would have survived.

Viewers may be interested to note that the water quality of the aquifer is of a very pure standard, which may lead to the question as to how and why Severn Trent Water believe that chlorine and fluoride should be added to it.

I trust you enjoy it. Thank you for watching. Should you be feeling appreciative, then please tip me a few quid via the Buy Me a Coffee button and, remember too that I can also be read on Substack.

Episode 56: Pumped Up

Each day, millions of gallons of water are pumped up at the Papplewick Pumping Station to be distributed to thousands of homes. Now pumped out with electric pumps, which replaced the still-functioning steam-powered ones, the station stands as a monument to the engineering and architectural abilities of our British ancestors. This is a special edition of the RogueCast, with Part 2 to follow this week.

A visit to the opening day celebrating 140 years of the Papplewick Pumping Station, 7 miles north of Nottingham had me pondering on a number of issues, particularly the codswallop of a 50 pence piece and some epic nonsense in the M&S gents’ urinals.

The fact is, and I did not know this until yesterday, that there is an aquifer in Papplewick that is some 200 feet below the surface which is constantly replenished, all of which makes a nonsense of any climate change assertion that water is somehow scarce, on the simple basis that these underground water sources are to found everywhere across the Isles of Britain.

Thank you,  as always,  for your support and should you be feeling appreciative, then please chuck a few quid in the pot via the Buy Me a Coffee button, leave a comment and I will get back to you.

Readers and viewers may support and follow my output on Substack, which, at least as far as I can tell, appears to be a home to free speech.

In the meantime, I continue to be pumped with a blessedness that I can only hint but which may be discerned via my essays and through my latest RogueCast

Episode 55: The Logos is Well Mannered

Logos is Reason, it is the logic of the Trivium and its meaning has been watered-down in the Bible by way of its mis-translation from the Greek to English.

Manners Maketh the Man was the theme of yesterday’s essay and this RogueCast is a further rumination on the subject, one in which I introduce the term Logos or Reason to the discourse.

In the Beginning was the Word and the Word was God

is the opening line of the Bible and it has a precision and boldness that resonates with the reader or listener. Regardless of the mis-translation, its direct clarity rings true, like a church bell peeling over town or country.

When the individual appreciates the Truth and only the Truth then he is at one with God – he is but a divine fragment, an insignificant aspect of his true creator, a blessed living soul, the sojourner who is passing through this realm and he knows who and what he is.

I emphasise the individual for what many seeem to instinctively know but forget is that the journey through life is highly-personalised and, ultimately, not that of a collective. Born alone, we meet fellow souls on the way and then we pass out again, alone. Alone but not lonely.

To return to the stark clarity of that opening line of the Bible, a book which, for what it’s worth, I   regard in the main, as a work of fiction:

The greatest truths are contained in art and if the world is a fiction, then it should not surprise us to read that line as a paradox because that is the essential quality of this world. God, ultimately, is ineffable, beyond our powers of description, beyond the art and beyond explanation and yet…

As I ramble through the woods, I make the point that the original Greek version from which the English Bible was translated uses the word logos and how the knowledge of that underplaying caused by the mistranslation serves to deepen its meaning as it takes the indvidual further into the true import of the line.

When we reconsider the line, with logos – meaning reason or logic – then it becomes even more precise,

In the Beginning was the Logos and the Logos was God

and it means that God is Logic, that God is reason.

The extrapolation of which is that each and every one of us has been created by way of reason. We know that there is purpose to our lives, that we are not fragments of ‘evolutionary’ star dust travelling through a nihilistic world. Rather, we are divine fragments of the one true God, a God who is the Logos.

To me, at least, it can mean nothing less than that. It is both uplifting and humbling and it draws me, inevitably, into a deeper state of wonderment and love.

I posit that the real holy trinity is the Trivium – the ages-old basis for our discernment of the truth, the truth of any subject. We are in a perceived reality – all is mind – and it follows from that our ability to reason is, simply put, divine. Little reason, therefore, that the demiurge, the false god of this mental construct goes to such lengths to cut the individual off from his divine ability to be as reasonable as his maker, for he is a blessed living fragment of that very reason behind his creation, and that is a threat to the forces of darkness that invert the world to such ridiculous extremes.

In the final analysis, it is way beyond my powers of expression to articulate it but I trust the RogueCast goes some way to hinting at it and, how it is a most indvidual realisation of my own logos. The most accurate depiction of this realisation comes to directly from the poetry of Alexander Pope, which rings through my being with all the resonance of those church bells referenced earlier,

“The Truth is Beauty; Beauty is Truth
That is All on Earth Ye need to Know.”

Thank you,  as always,  for your support and especially to Lizzie for her generosity which she expressed via the Buy Me a Coffee button . If you’re feeling equally appreciative, then please chuck a few quid in the pot, leave a comment and I will get back to you.

My work can also be read on Substack, which, at least as far as I can tell, appears to be a home to free speech.

 

 

Manners Maketh the Man

Good manners appear to be in short supply right now.

It seems appropriate that after the recent passing of my 86 year old mother that I once again revisit another adage which she oft repeated to me at an earlier age,

Manners maketh the Man

Sometimes she would adopt it to, “It costs nothing to be polite, Michael.”

It is fair to state that Truth is the highest beauty and without it a man will fall into a pit of his own creation, one in which he is ever mindful of the pendulum that swings over him as he languishes in a confusion of lies.

Languishing in his pit of lies, the deceiver perishes

It is easier to be truthful than to be a liar for the latter had better possess a good memory on the simple basis that one lie leads to another, and then more and more are required in a vain attempt to prop up the original lie.

A man who possesses good manners is, by definition, one who is reasonable. After all, he cannot be polite when consumed by some fiery anger, for in such moments, he has, quite literally, lost his a ability to reason.

Reasoning will wither on the vine when passion is present.

Good manners or politeness are based on reason. If a man is to be a man, then he has to be able to reason. Maybe the phenomenon of transvestism and all the rest of the ‘trans-rights’ brigade of blokes who flounce about pretending to be women is best explained by stating that such men have lost their ability to reason: that they are being unreasonable.

Unreasonableness may afflict anyone but it mostly to be found in women for they are, in essence, emotional beings and when one is emotional, then one is simply succumbing to a feminity which has no place in a man.

A man’s ability to reason is Divine – God-given, after all is Man not created in the image of God? Are we not blessed essences of his being, who, as such, are truly loved, regardless of the codswallop that may come our way from women and those men who cannot control and direct their emotions?

Do we not betray that love when we veer from the Truth and allow empty rhetoric to hold sway?
Maxims are Truths and that is why they resonate so beautifully with us – when expressed, a truth resonates with the reader or listener to the very pit of his stomach: it is to be felt and known in an instant.

As previously stated, I have no time for those who shoot off their mouths without the data or reason to support their emotional outpourings.

In this epoch, in these times and in this realm, there are many in the shape of men but few real men but so it is and, for all those readers who instantly know the tenure of these words to be true, I salute you.

As I have written and spoken on many times, the construct of this realm has been inverted by those who are liars and perverts and, it is to be noted, it may well have always been thus, by which I mean there never was a paradise or a golden age. Edmund Spenser wrote this some 500 years ago and it is as pertinent now as it was then,

“For that which all men then did virtue call, Is now called vice; and that which vice was hight, Is now hight virtue, and so used of all: Right now is wrong, and wrong that was is right.”

To conclude: politeness in the face of rudeness and irritability is divine because it is always reasonable. It is the constant application of reason in a world of unreason and empty rhetoric that will inevitably triumph. Bluntly put, without his innate common sense – the Trivium – a man is not a man.


This essay is dedicated to my brother from another mother, Michael of Bernicia, a man whose nobility, love of the Truth and honour remain intact in the face of all attacks on his good name.


Thank you as always for your support and especially to Lizzie for her generosity which she expressed via the Buy Me a Coffee button. If you’re feeling equally appreciative, then please chuck a few quid in the pot, leave a comment and I will get back to you.

My work can also be read on Substack, which, at least as far as I can tell, appears to be a home to free speech.

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