Ah well, man plans, God laughs, as they say.

I should be in the West End, suited and booted, enjoying the third hour of my great friend’s son’s wedding. But it didn’t happen. A minor (ish) catastrophe at work (Mel’s, not mine) meant we had to call off the morning part of the today’s weddinginess. We’ll be there this evening, but this morning was not to happen. Which is a shame but…

Within 20 seconds of hearing about the cancellation I’d rearranged Tai Chi and tennis, so after fighting the wierd and wonderful snow-storm this morning (snow?? when yesterday it was still summer??? where the fuck is ‘mild’ when you really need it?) the sky had cleared by the end of martial arts madness to reveal blue sky and sunshine. Perfect for tennis. So you’d think. Until you realised that the winds I’d so revered the other day had come back to bite me right in my tennis court.

I did wonder, as Spurs Paul & I warmed up, why all the other courts were empty. ‘Bunch’a poofs’, he said, for which I had to reprimand him severely for lacking the political correctness that almost defines our time together. We played. It was a joke. The ball shifting laterally 20 feet from shot to bounce. Its a forehand; no its a backhand; shit, its hit me in the bollocks. Ooooofffff!!!!

I should be in a ceremony. Praying to Hindu gods. They have loads. Many look like post-nuclear elephant-human hybrids, many-headed monsters, horses that can play the sitar. I don’t care, I’ll pray to anyone. Or not. As I’m not there.

Last weekend I was in synagogue. Only one God there. Barely an elephant’s trunk in sight. The Jewish God is old and has a long beard. Smiles a lot. Has a pot belly. Loves his grandchildren.

But where was he when Paris was under attack? Where was the lightening strike at Jihadi John just as he was about to perform a beheading live on video? What’s the point of all that omnipotence and omniscience if you don’t use it? Its like taking a Ferrari to go to Sainsburys. Or a Range Rover to take the kids to school. All that wasted power.

God doesn’t do miracles, doesn’t interfere, doesn’t show off. Well, perhaps he should. Or She should. Whatever.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx