Peter Rose
Bio
Collections of "my" vocal essays with additions, are available as printed books ASIN 197680615 and 1980878536 also some fictional works and some e books available at Amazon;-
amazon.com/author/healthandfunpeterrose
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Stories (329/0)
So what did happen?
So what did happen? Any truth is a possibility It was a dark and stormy night, no, really it was, November in England and 2am. The wind was gusting strong enough to bend the branches on the old trees outside my window, the squalls of rain crashed into these windows, waking me from a troubled sleep. I tried the lights, nothing, the power was out, not unusual when storms got this violent. I stumbled from my bed trying to get my mind into some sort of action. I kept a torch on my bedside table for such situations and so had no trouble getting to my tiny sitting room. Then the torch went out, flat battery, which was odd since the battery was almost new and modern LED lights are economical in power use. The log fire was still flickering with life and was soon encouraged into producing warmth and flame powered light. I lit up a couple of candles and stood an old, blackened kettle on the step beside the burning logs. I promised myself hot chocolate but poured a large whisky instead, the glass and bottle handy, where I left them just three hours ago. The battery on my laptop was fully charged, so I could try and find news about this particular storm. I clicked start and then my problems really began. Instead of going to the BBC weather, I got a grainy black and white image of a snowstorm. It took several seconds before my sleep addled brain could react to this. I rechecked my start up procedures and I got the same thing, I was not in control of what the laptop was showing, which means I has not in control of what it contained. I shut down completely. I waited then restarted, same thing. I was feeling very much alone, not only in my cottage in the middle of the night, but I knew the phone lines would be down along with power lines and cell phone reception was always variable at best. The Broad band hub was dark, no power and its battery exhausted. How do I regain control of my laptop? I would need internet connection so that I could not obey my brain telling me to reset your password. I tried more neat Scotch, but no inspiration came. I tuned in my battery powered radio but could not find connection to any station. The battery was almost flat in this as well as the torch. I shut everything down, added a couple of logs to my fire, put the spark guard back in place and went back to bed. I could not sleep, the questions of what, and who, and how, had someone taken over my computer haunted me. If there was no web connection how had anyone got into my system? When I went to bed first time all had been OK, so what ever happened must have been between the time I shut down and the time the cables all got torn apart. Why the black and white snowstorm? Nothing made much sense. Then my cell phone rang. No caller number shown and indeed the connection bars showed no connection available. I picked up and pressed answer. I asked who is calling but got no answer, just silence, this was beginning to get on my nerves. I pressed close call and waited, the phone rang again, and again same situation of silence when I answered. The state of charge indicator was showing very little power left, which was odd it was fully charged yesterday and not used since. I turned the phone off, shut down completely. I tried to sleep and failed completely; I know I had been drinking but not drunk to point of imagining stuff. I thought I may be dreaming some sort of nightmare, if so it was one I could not wake up from. I went to my bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, very definitely not dreaming this.
By Peter Roseabout a year ago in Fiction
fusion of intellect and intuition
The fusion of intuition and intellect The power of the physical when joined by the ethereal The fusion of intuition and intellect into one operating force has many advantages, decision making by the intuition is rapid and action to carry out that decision, guided by the intellect, is in harmony with the physical world we live in, on Gaia. The intuition is ethereal and so cannot control physical activity, only a physical force can do this, the intellect is part of the physical existence and so can control physical activity. If the intuition suggests turn right, then the intellect can tell the body to turn to the right and walk. Without the brain, the intellect, giving orders to the flesh and blood, the legs and the muscles, nothing would happen, the intuitive command to turn right, would be ignored.
By Peter Roseabout a year ago in Longevity
Control without accepting responsibility
Control without responsibility- a modern concept Causing, then blame others There does appear to be a growing tendency, in every aspect of life, from personal and social interactions to national governance. It is normal for organisations to control people and events but refuse to accept the responsibility that should go with control. This can be observed in sports where player A provokes retaliation from person B and then demands that B be punished. They do not expect punishment as they believe they are innocent; they are refusing to even acknowledge that the retaliation was a consequence of their own actions.
By Peter Roseabout a year ago in Longevity
What a difference a day makes
What a difference a day makes. The future is never certain. I lay in bed, it was early, I was listless, I went through the coming hours in my mind, trying to convince myself it was worth getting out of bed and getting active. I failed. Then my dog started barking and trying to charge through my locked and secure front door. He also failed; but he did get me out of bed to try and calm the racket down. I looked through the security panel to see what had cause dog to get so agitated, I was in time to see a drone lift and fly away. When I got the door open, I found a box on the step, a perfectly ordinary looking brown cardboard box. I had no trouble picking it up, it was light and a cube, only about six inches each side. On the top was a stuck-on label but this was not showing any name or address, or any other information. Even once I was back inside and turning it over, I could see no other labels or marking of any sort. Very mysterious, I started the coffee filter machine going and unwrapped my surprise package. Dog was at my feet looking up expectantly as if he could smell his favourite treat, The box contained a plastic bag, and this contained, what looked like chocolates, dark chocolates just loose in the bag no fancy display pack. I put these well out of reach of dog and searched for clues about who sent this and why. Nothing, no information at all. The bag contained twenty chocolates, when I opened up the bag and tipped out the contents, I could see that they were all exactly the same, Same size, shape, and weight.
By Peter Roseabout a year ago in Fiction
A gift from nowhere
A gift from nowhere A day when everything changed. I came home from a visit to the supermarket alcohol isle. As I walked down the path, I could hear a very odd whirring noise and got a shock when a drone suddenly shot up from my front doorstep and flew over my head and away out of sight. Left behind was a box. I was not expecting delivery of anything, and unsolicited goods do not arrive by drone, not in my experience anyway. Mysteries belong in fictional films and books, not on my doorstep. I walked round the offending object and unlocked the door, carefully placed my purchases into the hall then went back for the package. It was not very heavy, but I guessed that by the fact that a drone had delivered it, a common or garden battery operated propeller drone, not a bit of military kit. There was nothing written or printed on the outside of the box, not even my name or address. No return address, no makers name, no courier reference number, or bar code. It was clean and blank, devoid of information. How had, whoever controlled the drone, get it to land on my step, and rather more to the point why? Was it meant for someone else, and the GPS navigation had glitched a post code? I carried it to my kitchen, my mind racing through ever more fanciful and farfetched possibilities, including was it meant to blow up when I opened it, or did it contain anthrax laden dust? There was no reason why anyone should want me dead, may be an ex-wife or two but they would like to witness my ending not use remote gadgets, so I started to open it, then a further thought came; maybe not meant for me and I would be accidental, collateral, damage in someone else’s vendetta. I considered calling the police, but they are not particularly friendly to me and anyway what do I report? I have an unsolicited gift; I do not know what it is or where it came from. I did not see this making top of the urgent list. I decided to be really scientific about this mystery and set my phone video recorder going while I opened the box, it would probably have been better if I had not then got between the phone and the box, but I opened it. Inside was a lot of soft tissue paper then some Styrofoam which was in two moulded halves, which held a strange looking gadget about the same overall size, shape, and weight of a smart phone. It did not appear to have a screen, so if a new type of cell phone it was a strange one. Nothing ventured nothing gained, so I picked up the gadget, searched the rest of the box for instruction or anything that may help. Nothing. I was turning the gadget over in my hands when suddenly it started to emit a faint buzz, being the hero that I am, I promptly dropped it and backed away. The buzz stopped; everything went silent. I picked it up again and waited. The warmth from my hands must have triggered something because the buzz started again, reassured by the fact that dropping it would turn it off, I became bolder and kept turning it over while I searched for any sort of opening, switch, anything. Actually, I had no idea what to look for, but I was looking. I was holding the gadget in my left hand while I tried to think of something that might open it. I thought of looking up on the web. As this thought came into my mind the computer in the corner several feet away came to life and the browser started to search. I dropped the gadget in surprise and the computer promptly shut down again. This was way out of my comfort zone but since nothing had caused me pain, yet. I bravely picked up the gadget and thought about turning my TV on, it came on! I thought about a change of channel and the channel changed. The ultimate remote, not even have to press a button. I thought about turning the overhead light on, it came on. The sense of strangeness was overcome by the flood of possibilities. I sat and explored the distance this thing gave my thoughts. I turned lights on and off upstairs without leaving my kitchen, I turned the garden lights on and off and they were thirty feet away. I tried placing the gadget on the table then thinking to activate light, nothing worked I had to be holding this thing. I looked to see if it had a charging port, although later I realised without a charger that fitted this, it would not have done me any good. The outer surface felt like an egg not slippery and shiny but smooth and comfortable. I slipped it into my jacket pocket and found the connection only worked if I had skin contact with it.
By Peter Roseabout a year ago in Fiction
A parcel of mystery
A parcel of mystery One day, new life. It was breakfast time, in my life that is just after 8 am. I had just sat at my table, steaming coffee, bacon and eggs and today’s newspaper. Heaven must be like this. Then “Rosy” my dog, began to bark furiously at something as yet unseen, at the outside of my front door. Reluctantly I went to see what the fuss was about, no post on the welcome mat, then, through the glass panels on my front door I saw what looked like a gigantic spider float up and shoot off down the drive. I grabbed the door handle and rushed out nearly falling over a box placed on the top step. I managed to sidestep this as I watched a drone leave at very rapid pace. The box was addressed to me but did not have all the usual carrier labels stuck all over it, in fact when I examined it, the only markings on it were my name and address! I picked up the package, called Rosy to heel and went back to my breakfast. Unannounced parcels are not allowed to disrupt this most vital meal of the day Order and quiet restored, I finished my meal and turned to the mysterious box. It was not very heavy, it did not rattle, when shook and it was very clean. It was also absolutely undamaged, not a single sign that it had been though a distribution centre. No postage stamps, no carrier labels nothing. Whoever sent this had done so privately, they must have flown the drone, or at least controlled whoever did so. I removed the outer layer of brown paper and started on the cardboard box. No letter, no note to indicate the sender, no marketing leaflets, all getting stranger and stranger. I opened the box and inside was a book, covered in bubble wrapping plastic, as if it was so fragile. I laid the book on my dining table and examined the packaging to make sure I had not missed any indication about the sender. The book was well used and obviously old but cared for. The spine was not broken, no pages were loose. As I turned some pages, I could see some handwritten notations in the margins but these all orderly and neat, done with care. The cover was cracked black leather with a faded gold embossed title, it was such a simple title; Seek, was all it said. I looked at the inside cover pages expecting to see the usual publishers and copyright declarations, but nothing not even the authors name. The paper was thick and yellowing with age. The numbers 1437 were handwritten in a copperplate style, faded but visible. I turned the pages with care, this was a printed book but if the numbers were a date, it is too early, since according to the usual history, the printing press was not invented till 1439.
By Peter Roseabout a year ago in Fiction
Mystery equals change
Mystery equals change. Saved by patience. The day started just as so many others but ended rather differently from anything I have experienced in the last few of my eighty years on this planet. I was woken by the light, did my stretches and all usual routine tasks, finally settling in front of my laptop, coffee gently steaming near my right hand. All so reassuringly similar to so many other days for the last year or so. The first indication that this was not going to be a normal day, came when my golden retriever, “Goldy”; originality was never my strongest asset; got up from her usual position by my feet and wandered to the front door. This made me sit up and listen intently. I heard the faintest of thumps, Goldy heard much more and started to bark. I hurried to the front door, but nothing disturbed the view from inside, no dark outline of a visitor’s presence clouded the frosted glass panels. Goldy still insisted something was amiss and refused to leave the doorway. I opened the door to show Goldy all was clear. She rushed out swerved to her left and sat, triumphantly, beside a package. A brown paper covered package. It was addressed to me in bold bright red marker pen handwriting. It was not heavy, less than a kilo, I guessed. No return address, no delivery carriers’ markings, no signature had been asked for. The first thing that puzzled me, was how had this arrived by my door, without setting off the gate and fencing alarms. I did a quick scan of the surroundings and just caught a glimpse of a small flying machine disappearing over the horizon, a drone. Someone knew how to invade my privacy, that was disturbing by itself, but that the person also knew the name I was using, and my present address was far more of a concern. I carefully examined the package without moving it, nothing alarming to see but that did not mean all was good. I warned Goldy not to touch and went to my workshop and found a thin sheet of plywood. The package was a cube twenty-five centimetres on every dimension. The outer wrapping was brown paper sealed with clear sticky tape. I stood an occasional table beside it. Since it was sitting on grass, I was able to slide my sheet of ply under it without disturbing it, and lifted with great care, ensuring that I did not tilt it in any direction, put it onto the table. So far so good, I carried the table and package round to the back of my detached house and into my workshop, lifted ply and package onto a turntable placed on the work bench and slowly turned the whole thing round for more detailed examination. I used a scalpel to slice open the layer of brown paper from the top of the mystery box, lifted the part with my address, clear and checked the underside of this. It was thick paper, far thicker than normal wrapping stuff. I do not have chemical analysis facilities here so just had to press on. I used a stethoscope to listen for any sign of anything, but all was silent. Only fools rush into the unknown, so I made myself more coffee and drank this while thinking about how this strange box had arrived and who could have known where to find me. The result of my contemplation was not encouraging, those friends who knew enough, would have used my burner phone to warn me of its arrival; this only leaves enemies, none these were supposed to know how to reach me. Any clue had to be in the package or its covering.
By Peter Roseabout a year ago in Fiction
Preventing dictatorship
Preventing dictatorship Say no to the one-party state. Britain has a constitutional monarchy, and this is a protection that obstructs the takeover, by those who would wish to remove democracy. For those without the understanding of the often obscure and labyrinthine, social structures of Britain, the following may help. The monarchy has influence, mostly social but with some political aspects, but no real power. The King or Queen cannot make laws, they cannot overrule the government or parliament. The Government cannot dismiss parliament, but parliament can bring down the government. These aspects of the British constitution lessen the chance of an enforced one-party state. At least one that follows the design that the fascist/communists prefer. Other nations have not evolved the same preventive measures. Even in Britain and in the United States of America, it is possible to have a period where too much power is controlled by those who wish to prevent democracy from succeeding. It is possible to use “puppet” politicians and the “useful idiots” who can be manipulated into believing they are doing things for the good of the nation, when they are only doing things that benefit their controllers. But governments in Britain and the USA have limited timespans, they have to seek re-election. While there are flaws in both electoral systems and while the media can be manipulated, it is hard to prevent public criticism of the governments record. Only in a one-party state is it possible for the ruling party to prevent the emergence of public opposition. With such public criticism and a reasonable level of “secret, free and fair” ballots a complete take over is difficult.
By Peter Rose2 years ago in The Swamp
Can Prayer help?
Can Prayer help? Why Pray? The following has been compiled over some time, the words come and are written down, some from rational intellectual thought, others just come unbidden. It can never be a completed or “finished” essay since new thoughts and understandings come each and every day.:-
By Peter Rose2 years ago in Longevity
Listening and hearing are not the same thing
Listening and hearing are not the same What we hear and what is said may be different. More and more commercial activities now rely on telephone conversations, the larger companies claim to record these conversations, but has any “customer” been able to hear a play back of a disputed conversation? The interpretation of what words actually mean coupled with what being said is not always the same as what is heard; make this reliance on telephone conversations unsafe for the consumers.
By Peter Rose2 years ago in Longevity