Time's Passage

The mileometer on my bicycle has always fascinated me. My inner accountant has been calculating the bike’s cost per mile. The machine cost me £3000 less a third reduction courtesy of His Majesty’s Government’s Bike to Work Scheme. It still means that I have spent nearly a pound for each mile travelled. With each successive journey, the cost slowly creeps down.

Being something of an amateur historian, I recall looking at the numbers appearing on the mileometer and considering the corresponding years. 1066 and the defeat of Saxon England; 1454, and the fall of Constantinople; 1588, the Spanish Armada; 1789 the French Revolution; 1892, the death of Spurgeon; 1926, the general strike, and so on. The dull winter evening commutes to and from chapel were enlivened by this somewhat geeky historical musing.

I am now into the 2300s. Then I shall be long dead, the crepuscular affairs of this dark world no longer my concern. Whatever the truth of raptures, millenia, and white, linen robes, I will be safe with the Lord Jesus come what may.