Rose

I never need to wonder what Heaven will be like... it'll be like this

Greenwich’s Cutty Sark DLR station reopens after escalator overhaul ianvisits.co.uk/articles/green… Ten months after closing for a full overhaul, the DLR station returns with new escalators, improved lighting and a noticeably lighter look. ianvisits.co.uk/articles/green…

@ianvisits Saw the Grand Opening this morning... speeches, a band and free cup cakes

Look whos back.

@bob55408883 @EastMidRailway How is it the train companies fault. WTF is wrong with you. It's not their fault if folk keep leaping under trains

@EastMidRailway Shock horror, when will emr learn

@UcheMaryOkoli Westminster

Sunday Fun day!!!💃 What's the name of your Parish?? I'd go first. Sacred Heart Parish ❤️ 🥺.

Robert Mueller died last night. He was 81 years old. He had a wife who loved him for sixty years. He had two daughters, one of whom he met for the first time in Hawaii, in 1969, on a few hours of military leave, before he got back on the plane and returned to Vietnam. He had grandchildren. He had a faith he practiced quietly, without performance. He had, in the way of men who have seen real things and survived them, a quality that is increasingly rare and increasingly mocked in the country he spent his life serving. He had integrity. And tonight the President of the United States said good! I have been sitting with that word for hours now. Good. One syllable. The thing you say when the coffee is hot or the traffic is moving. The thing a man who has never had to bury anyone, never had to sit in the specific silence of a room where someone is newly absent, reaches for when he wants the world to know he is satisfied. Good. The daughters are crying and the wife is alone in the house and good. I want to speak directly to the Americans reading this. Not the political Americans. Just the human ones. The ones who have lost a father. The ones who know what it is to be in that first hour, when you keep forgetting and then remembering again, when ordinary objects become unbearable, when the world outside the window seems obscene in its indifference. I want to ask you, simply, to hold that feeling for a moment, and then to understand that the man you elected looked at it and typed a single word. Good. This is not a country having a bad day. I need you to understand that. Countries have bad days. Elections go wrong. Leaders disappoint. Institutions bend. But there is a different thing, a rarer and more terrible thing, that happens when the moral center of a place simply gives way. Not dramatically. Not with a single catastrophic event. But quietly, in increments, until one evening a president celebrates the death of an old man whose family is still warm with grief, and enough people find it acceptable that it becomes the weather. Just the weather. That is what is happening. That is what has happened. The world knows. From Tokyo to Oslo, from London to Buenos Aires, people are not angry at America tonight. Anger would mean there was still something to fight for, some remaining faith to be betrayed. What I see, in the reactions from everywhere that is not here, is something older and sadder than anger. It is the look people get when they have waited a long time for someone they love to find their way back, and have finally understood that they are not coming. America is being grieved. Past tense, almost. The idea of it. The thing it represented to people who had nothing else to believe in, who came here with everything they owned in a single bag because they had heard, somehow, across an ocean, that this was the place where decency was written into the walls. That idea is not resting. It is not suspended. It is being buried, in real time, with 7,450 likes before dinner. And the church said nothing. Seventy million people have decided that this man, this specific man who has cheated everyone he has ever made a promise to, who has mocked the disabled and the dead and the grieving, who celebrated tonight while a family wept, is an instrument of God. The pastors who made that bargain did not just trade away their credibility. They traded away the thing that made them worth listening to in the first place. The cross they carry now is a costume. The faith they preach is a loyalty oath with scripture attached. When the history of American Christianity is written, this will be the chapter they skip at seminary. Now I want to talk about the men who stand next to him. Because this is the part that actually breaks my heart. JD Vance is not a bad man. I have to say that, because it is true, and because the truth matters even now, especially now. Marco Rubio is not a bad man. Lindsey Graham is not a bad man. They are idiots, but not bad, as in BAD! These are men with mothers who raised them and children who love them and friends who remember who they were before all of this. They are not monsters. Monsters are simple. Monsters do not cost you anything emotionally because there is nothing in them to mourn. These men are something more painful than monsters. They are men who knew better, and know better still, and will get up tomorrow and do it again. Every small compromise they made had a reason. Every moment they looked the other way had a justification that sounded, at the time, almost reasonable. And now they have arrived here, at a place where a president celebrates the death of an old man and they will find a way, on television, to say nothing that means anything, and they will go home to houses where children who carry their name are waiting, and they will say goodnight, and they will say nothing. Their oldest friends are watching. The ones who knew Rubio when he still believed in something. Who knew Graham when he said, out loud, on the record, that this exact man would destroy the Republican Party and deserve it. Who sat next to Vance and thought here is someone worth knowing. Those friends are not angry tonight. They moved through anger a long time ago. What they feel now is the quiet, irrecoverable sadness of watching someone disappear while still being present. Of watching a person they loved choose, again and again, to become less. That is what cowardice costs. Not the coward. The people who loved him. And in the comments tonight, the followers celebrate. People who ten years ago brought casseroles to grieving neighbours. Who stood in the rain at gravesides and meant the words they said. Who told their children that we do not speak ill of the dead because the dead were someone's beloved. Those people are tonight typing gleeful things about a man whose daughters are not yet done crying. And they feel clean doing it. Righteous. Because somewhere along the way the thing they were given in exchange for their decency was the feeling of belonging to something, and that feeling is very hard to give up even when you can no longer remember what you gave for it. When Trump is gone, they will still be here. Standing in the silence where the noise used to be. Without the permission the crowd gave them. Without the pastor who told them their cruelty was holy. They will be alone with what they said and what they cheered and what they chose to become, and there will be no one left to tell them it was righteous. That morning is coming. Robert Mueller flew across the Pacific on military leave to hold his newborn daughter for a few hours before returning to the war. He came home. He buried his dead with honour. He served presidents of both parties because he understood that the institution was larger than any one man. He told his grandchildren that a lie is the worst thing a person can do, that a reputation once lost cannot be recovered, and he lived that, every day, in the quiet and unglamorous way of people who actually believe what they say. He was the kind of American the world used to point to when it needed to believe the story was true. He died last night. His wife is alone in their house in Georgetown. His daughters are learning what the world is without him in it. And somewhere in the particular hush that falls over a family in the first hours of loss, the most powerful man and the biggest loser on earth sent a message to say he was glad. The world that loved what America was supposed to be is grieving tonight. Not for Robert Mueller only. For the country that produced him and then became this. For the distance between what was promised and what was delivered. For the suspicion, growing quieter and more certain with each passing month, that the America people believed in was always partly a story, and the story is over now, and there is nothing yet to replace it. That is all it needed to be. A man died. His family is broken open with grief. That is all it needed to be. Instead the President said good. And the country that once stood for something looked away 🇺🇸 Gandalv / @Microinteracti1

@cecsquared Bring me a seeded roll and audition for an auntie?

I am 30 years old and mentally ill but I do make good bread!!!

I am once again looking for a family to adopt me

@HuangDina @Mr_Husky1 What a despicable thing to say. I expect you don't feel ashamed . I expect you lack the sensibilities for shame. Hateful person.

@Mr_Husky1 What did you do to him as a parent? It’s a fair question coz all teenager suicides are coming from family problems.

My son, Tom, died by suicide in 2015 at 16 years old. A classmate followed seven months later. Today, as I was recounting the aftermath to trusted friends, a supressed memory surfaced. After his classmate died by suicide, someone said to me, "I can understand why Tom died, because he was not very popular, but I can't figure out why (name redacted) did, because everyone loved her. I am glad I did not remember that statement until I was better equipped to process it. My son was not popular, but he was the kid others came to when they needed someone with which to talk. He was loving, helpful, intelligent, creative, punny, and sensitive. He lived authenticly, even when his anxiety ramped up. I loved him unconditionally and miss him terribly. 💛 By star1670

@pingu4ll Life

what is it called when you can't take it anymore but you keep taking it

@otokyo__ ordinary bleach such as domestos. Don't dilute it much

I have tried everything from white vinegar to soaking. Please help.

@DrFrancisYoung @politybooks Rubs hands together in gleeful anticipation

IT’S OUT!! ‘Fairies: A History’ is published today in the UK, with publication in North America coming on 26 May 🧚📚🥳 politybooks.com/bookdetail?boo…

@TheLaurenChen There's always someone with a giant latte in one hand and a bun in the other saying they wish they were as skinny as me, while I stand there with my espresso

At one point in college, I had an obese roommate. After a few weeks, she complained about how lucky I was to be thin, since I ate more than her. The thing is, however, that I absolutely did not eat more than her, in terms of calories or just amount of food. She put ranch on everything. 600 calorie drinks. Endless snacking. Maybe my plate was more full than hers at dinner, but it was obvious tp everyone but her that she was consuming more throughout the day. I'm sorry, but after multiple instances of this happening with other overweight people, I just don't trust when someone heavy insists they're in caloric deficit. Maybe some people lose weight faster than others. For sure. But it's simple science that if calories out exceed calories in, you WILL lose weight.

@clumsyoaf33 It certainly does to me

Truffle smells of shit and tastes even worse

@TheStaad I think that's the Scientologists

When deciding which kind of Church to join, there are several things to consider At the top of the list should be the question, “Which Church does the world hate the most?” That is a solid starting point

@ReddCinema Death penalty sucks

The hanging of Mary the Elephant, who was publicly executed in 1916.

@London_W4 That turned out really well

I was quite pleased with this photo. I’ve walked along the river Thames here a million times, but each time it’s different. The weather, the light, the sky and so much else. St Paul’s cathedral on the right and those wonderful lamps on Southwark bridge. From here they look like Poseidon’s three pronged spear. I don’t know if that’s what the idea behind their design was. Anyway, I waited for a bus to appear from the left and there was the shot. Taken on Fujifilm XPro3

@_sorrengailll I've never even bothered trying it. Whyever would I want to paint my face????

Where are the people who wear little to no makeup? Do you have a reason?

THE SPECIAL by FRANK SIDGWICK Can anyone help me - I'm trying to find the full text for this satirical propaganda poem . The first line is The Hun Kill Women and Children

@DrFrancisYoung @DrMatthewSweet to be interesting. I've started to see people doing the whole Golden Past thing about the 1990s ... kids played out till dark, we used to drink from the hose etc. Gardnerian Paganism is old enough to be cringe but not old enough to be cool. And Yes we don't like joining things

@DrFrancisYoung @DrMatthewSweet Everything has cycles if you think about it. Gardnerian Paganism was all about beliefs that - in this system at least - had lasted from time immemorial till sometime between industrial revolution and WW1, perhaps living on in isolated pockets. It was the correct degree of old pto

I do think modern Paganism is one of the great achievements of post-war Britain. Gerald Gardner, codifying a dream of the deep past and the solace and inspiration of nature. Like the NHS and the Royal Festival Hall, long may it last.

@RinseHold @UltraDane But they make records where they shout it over and over then call that music

@UltraDane Black Americans police the N word like Muslims police the Koran. It's pathetic.

The chiId called him a 'beep'. And someone posts it from a camera in that apartment. Someone's going to die—and it likely will be the chiId you see hiding from the violence. Words can't describe the terror the IittIe b0y is in right now. Someone has to know that poor chiId, and they have to get him out of there.