Who is this ? He appears several times throughout the magazine. Is he a real bishop? The dreamy expression is quite authentic. The pose, with clasped hands, is not so. At college we were always advised not to stand like that, s it looked as if we were in an indirect free kick defensive wall, guarding our wedding tackle from harm. Not a good look. I know things have changed, but this is surely not the pose of choice for our spiritual leaders. Is he taking a fee for this? The caption suggests that he should be. Has he declared it on his Church Commissioners PUB and PUN forms? Is he moonlighting? If he’s not real, perhaps he’s one of those suspect characters who model for vestment magazines. Anyone know any more? I think we should be told.
Tuesday, 29 January 2008
Blog Publication of the Month
My unsolicited junk mail is now coming in boxes brought by couriers. One hundred copies of a wedding magazine (how many weddings do they think we do around here?) appeared on my doorstep. It’s so good, that I’m going to make it my Blog Publication of the Month. We’ll call it Borsetshire Bride & Groom (because that’s not its name). There’s lots of fascinating stuff in it, but we’ll start with this guy:
Who is this ? He appears several times throughout the magazine. Is he a real bishop? The dreamy expression is quite authentic. The pose, with clasped hands, is not so. At college we were always advised not to stand like that, s it looked as if we were in an indirect free kick defensive wall, guarding our wedding tackle from harm. Not a good look. I know things have changed, but this is surely not the pose of choice for our spiritual leaders. Is he taking a fee for this? The caption suggests that he should be. Has he declared it on his Church Commissioners PUB and PUN forms? Is he moonlighting? If he’s not real, perhaps he’s one of those suspect characters who model for vestment magazines. Anyone know any more? I think we should be told.
Who is this ? He appears several times throughout the magazine. Is he a real bishop? The dreamy expression is quite authentic. The pose, with clasped hands, is not so. At college we were always advised not to stand like that, s it looked as if we were in an indirect free kick defensive wall, guarding our wedding tackle from harm. Not a good look. I know things have changed, but this is surely not the pose of choice for our spiritual leaders. Is he taking a fee for this? The caption suggests that he should be. Has he declared it on his Church Commissioners PUB and PUN forms? Is he moonlighting? If he’s not real, perhaps he’s one of those suspect characters who model for vestment magazines. Anyone know any more? I think we should be told.
Monday, 28 January 2008
Carers with stopwatches
I spent half an hour with F. The two carers who had helped him bathe were just leaving. His small maisonette living room is piled with a variety of meagre belongings; black plastic bags with unknown contents; family photos and mementoes; books; old newspapers. On the window sill a much younger F with his wife beam out from their wedding photos; he tall and military in bearing; she dark and attractive; they are kissing in the lych gate of a pretty church. A boy with a mass of fair hair smiles out from another photo; F’s thirteen year old son, now being cared for by his sister on the other side of the country. I listen to F talk slowly, and with long pauses while he gathers thoughts and forms words and sentences, telling of his military career and exploits, his former life, home and family. His eyes fill up when he talks of the son he sees two or three times a year. This man fought in Bosnia, jumped out of planes, then flew a desk for the foreign office. He’s not much older than me. Now two carers come in to help him with his bath. There's a story here, if I have time to listen to it. Maybe I will over the coming weeks.
Back home, there's an item on the radio, about the costs of care. Local authorities are beginning to log care time in minutes and charge clients by the minutes for care received. This means that if it is estimated that it takes 28 minutes to bath someone, then 28 minutes, not 27 or 29, is what will be charged for and paid. There is no time for a conversation, no time for a special word for someone recently bereaved, no ten minutes extra to listen to someone who is feeling a bit low that day. It must all be factored in, and electronically logged. I reacted, as they say, with shock and disbelief. Carers are quitting in droves. Where's the sense in this?
I remember a hospital I used to visit regularly, where there was a tea room, with a large jolly lady with a teapot. She would talk to people and crack jokes with all these folks who were waiting for appointments and treatment. Then one day she was gone – replaced by a dispensing machine. I sat beside that machine with the silent patients in the waiting room. I never heard it tell a joke once. Nowadays, in older hospitals some of these cafes are still open, but run by Friends groups of volunteers. In the bright new private finance health palaces Costa Coffee has the franchise; young people with baseball caps dispense cappuchinos without a smile. The NHS does not pay for cheeriness. Its results cannot be quantified and put on charts. Carers with stopwatches are the end result of this process. Truly we know the cost of everything and the value of nothing.
Back home, there's an item on the radio, about the costs of care. Local authorities are beginning to log care time in minutes and charge clients by the minutes for care received. This means that if it is estimated that it takes 28 minutes to bath someone, then 28 minutes, not 27 or 29, is what will be charged for and paid. There is no time for a conversation, no time for a special word for someone recently bereaved, no ten minutes extra to listen to someone who is feeling a bit low that day. It must all be factored in, and electronically logged. I reacted, as they say, with shock and disbelief. Carers are quitting in droves. Where's the sense in this?
I remember a hospital I used to visit regularly, where there was a tea room, with a large jolly lady with a teapot. She would talk to people and crack jokes with all these folks who were waiting for appointments and treatment. Then one day she was gone – replaced by a dispensing machine. I sat beside that machine with the silent patients in the waiting room. I never heard it tell a joke once. Nowadays, in older hospitals some of these cafes are still open, but run by Friends groups of volunteers. In the bright new private finance health palaces Costa Coffee has the franchise; young people with baseball caps dispense cappuchinos without a smile. The NHS does not pay for cheeriness. Its results cannot be quantified and put on charts. Carers with stopwatches are the end result of this process. Truly we know the cost of everything and the value of nothing.
Waiting to go home
Deanery synod tonight. Just before I went out I saw that I had received an invitation to run a workshop at a national conference. "Unlocking the potential of your Deanery". You have got to be joking. I went off to the meeting. Someone once defined the Church of England deanery synod as "A group of Anglicans waiting to go home". Never has this felt more true.
Sunday, 27 January 2008
An apology
I'd like to post an apology to Father Heron. I called him a "crusty old sod". I'd like to make it clear that to the best of my knowledge Father Heron is neither crusty nor a sod. I apologise unreservedly for any offence or distress that this may have caused him.
Thursday, 24 January 2008
We're all customers now!
So, I’m starting to get to the heart of what this blog was meant to be about. I’ve had my meeting with The Boss and survived; more later on that perhaps, though perhaps the details are best held back, even on an anonymous blog.
Thirty years ago, someone in my position would perhaps face the personal questions of continued faith, physical energy and capacity for work. Now we must also face the fact that the Church of today in which we work is in so many ways not the Church it once was; not the Church into which I was ordained, not a Church I recognise. I’ve heard a number of people say that lately, and it’s true for me too. The changes have been considerable and far reaching. Without enumerating all of them, there are several issues that particularly affect me at the moment:
It’s a busy church
People are rushing about all over the place, devising schemes and programmes for mission and ministry and driving themselves onwards to do more, be involved in more, cover more ground, raise their profile. Why? I suspect much of it is either to compensate for something missing at the heart of the whole operation (what are we doing it for?) or in order to try to ensure the survival of the human institution, instead of paying attention to the divine origin and inspiration. I’m sorry, but twenty, thirty years ago we were not rushing around doing all this stuff. And I think we were the better for it.
It’s a lay person’s church
There’s nothing wrong with that; it’s been long overdue in the Anglican church. But I note that there is an increasing suspicion of clergy now that did not exist when I was ordained. What do clergy do all week? Why do we pay them? What do we get out of this? Dave Walker’s cartoon is a good one, but lying behind it are some serious issues. Many lay leaders, either elected or self-appointed, are elderly white males of a certain type and background; retired captains of industry who, it would appear, want to continue the roles they exercised in business or commerce on the much smaller stage of the parish church. This is definitely an increasing trend. They bring with them old ideas of management, performance, leadership, discredited in their former workplaces by more modern management techniques, which is why their companies were happy to give them a golden handshake and say goodbye. Now they find themselves in conflict with the newer theories and practice in Christian ministry. Last year I was taken to one side by one such senior lay person in one of our churches and taken to task for my “laziness”, “poor performance” and “lack of leadership”, and told home truths as he saw them as to where I was failing. This has happened to me twice in the past ten years. In the previous twenty five years it never happened. Our curate has had two similar experiences in just three years.
Clergy are so often set up to fail. We are told that traditionally the life of the priest is a balance between “being” and “doing”. We have no clear job specifications, so we are never sure what it is that we are supposed to do when we’re “doing”. New responsibilities are tacked on the end with the expectation that we will do them without complaint because we are “committed”. We are given new methodologies and rationales, such as “local lay-led ministry”, for which neither we nor the recipients have been trained or prepared. We are expected to work without a structured weekly or monthly pattern, never sure what constitutes work at all, feeling guilty about time off and holidays.
It’s a performance-related target-driven Church
Increasingly we want to see results. And they need to be quantifiable, tangible results; more people in church, falling average age of congregation, new groups starting up, higher levels of giving, etc. Much talk of mission is really about survival, growth is about shoring up a failing organization. We compete with a whole variety of leisure activities, children’s activities, shopping, sports, the dispersed extended family, the need for grandparents to support working parents, and yet we still expect to see growth where it really counts, between 9.30 and 12.30 on a Sunday morning.
It’s a consumer’s Church
Everyone wants what they want, when they want it. They want a church created in their own image, meeting their needs, conforming to their views. There is no concept of the Church as the sum of all the parts, including those who have differences with one another.
We have people who complain about liturgy, because it’s the same as the last time they came, or people who say they are “bored with communion” (honestly! I kid you not), and why can’t we have something different. This is in a benefice with nine, yes nine, different versions of the eucharist in use, four different lay-led service formats, and numerous occasions when something new and one-off is offered, or when no particular form at all is used! And then there is the whole business of Family Services: the good, the bad and the rubbish. There is no concept of the repeated action in order to get deeper into things; everything is judged on how they feel on leaving the building; the drive to be “relevant” and “welcoming” is relentless, completely disregarding the poor souls who have just come in on spec and hope to spend some quiet time in personal devotions – they must be included, and may well be asked an embarrassing series of questions about themselves, their lives and their level of commitment and involvement long before they are ready to answer. The bottom line is that people pay more and more to support ministry with their hard earned cash. They expect to something back for their money, to have a right to question, to complain if it’s not up to the standard they expect, and to see results. The old models of ministry simply do not address such a situation. No wonder everyone is getting upset.
I’m glad there are good, conscientious young clergy like Howard Jameson around. I wish them well, and admire much of what they do and the way that they do it. I can see some echoes of a younger me in some of it. I hope they manage to maintain their energy, their optimism and their commitment. Then there are other crusty old sods like me. Go to Father Heron’s Blog for example. I still believe that there is a Church of the future emerging from all the difficulties of the present time, and I wish it well. I’m just not sure it has a place for people like me in it. At least I now have the go-ahead to prepare an exit strategy.
Thirty years ago, someone in my position would perhaps face the personal questions of continued faith, physical energy and capacity for work. Now we must also face the fact that the Church of today in which we work is in so many ways not the Church it once was; not the Church into which I was ordained, not a Church I recognise. I’ve heard a number of people say that lately, and it’s true for me too. The changes have been considerable and far reaching. Without enumerating all of them, there are several issues that particularly affect me at the moment:
It’s a busy church
People are rushing about all over the place, devising schemes and programmes for mission and ministry and driving themselves onwards to do more, be involved in more, cover more ground, raise their profile. Why? I suspect much of it is either to compensate for something missing at the heart of the whole operation (what are we doing it for?) or in order to try to ensure the survival of the human institution, instead of paying attention to the divine origin and inspiration. I’m sorry, but twenty, thirty years ago we were not rushing around doing all this stuff. And I think we were the better for it.
It’s a lay person’s church
There’s nothing wrong with that; it’s been long overdue in the Anglican church. But I note that there is an increasing suspicion of clergy now that did not exist when I was ordained. What do clergy do all week? Why do we pay them? What do we get out of this? Dave Walker’s cartoon is a good one, but lying behind it are some serious issues. Many lay leaders, either elected or self-appointed, are elderly white males of a certain type and background; retired captains of industry who, it would appear, want to continue the roles they exercised in business or commerce on the much smaller stage of the parish church. This is definitely an increasing trend. They bring with them old ideas of management, performance, leadership, discredited in their former workplaces by more modern management techniques, which is why their companies were happy to give them a golden handshake and say goodbye. Now they find themselves in conflict with the newer theories and practice in Christian ministry. Last year I was taken to one side by one such senior lay person in one of our churches and taken to task for my “laziness”, “poor performance” and “lack of leadership”, and told home truths as he saw them as to where I was failing. This has happened to me twice in the past ten years. In the previous twenty five years it never happened. Our curate has had two similar experiences in just three years.
Clergy are so often set up to fail. We are told that traditionally the life of the priest is a balance between “being” and “doing”. We have no clear job specifications, so we are never sure what it is that we are supposed to do when we’re “doing”. New responsibilities are tacked on the end with the expectation that we will do them without complaint because we are “committed”. We are given new methodologies and rationales, such as “local lay-led ministry”, for which neither we nor the recipients have been trained or prepared. We are expected to work without a structured weekly or monthly pattern, never sure what constitutes work at all, feeling guilty about time off and holidays.
It’s a performance-related target-driven Church
Increasingly we want to see results. And they need to be quantifiable, tangible results; more people in church, falling average age of congregation, new groups starting up, higher levels of giving, etc. Much talk of mission is really about survival, growth is about shoring up a failing organization. We compete with a whole variety of leisure activities, children’s activities, shopping, sports, the dispersed extended family, the need for grandparents to support working parents, and yet we still expect to see growth where it really counts, between 9.30 and 12.30 on a Sunday morning.
It’s a consumer’s Church
Everyone wants what they want, when they want it. They want a church created in their own image, meeting their needs, conforming to their views. There is no concept of the Church as the sum of all the parts, including those who have differences with one another.
We have people who complain about liturgy, because it’s the same as the last time they came, or people who say they are “bored with communion” (honestly! I kid you not), and why can’t we have something different. This is in a benefice with nine, yes nine, different versions of the eucharist in use, four different lay-led service formats, and numerous occasions when something new and one-off is offered, or when no particular form at all is used! And then there is the whole business of Family Services: the good, the bad and the rubbish. There is no concept of the repeated action in order to get deeper into things; everything is judged on how they feel on leaving the building; the drive to be “relevant” and “welcoming” is relentless, completely disregarding the poor souls who have just come in on spec and hope to spend some quiet time in personal devotions – they must be included, and may well be asked an embarrassing series of questions about themselves, their lives and their level of commitment and involvement long before they are ready to answer. The bottom line is that people pay more and more to support ministry with their hard earned cash. They expect to something back for their money, to have a right to question, to complain if it’s not up to the standard they expect, and to see results. The old models of ministry simply do not address such a situation. No wonder everyone is getting upset.
I’m glad there are good, conscientious young clergy like Howard Jameson around. I wish them well, and admire much of what they do and the way that they do it. I can see some echoes of a younger me in some of it. I hope they manage to maintain their energy, their optimism and their commitment. Then there are other crusty old sods like me. Go to Father Heron’s Blog for example. I still believe that there is a Church of the future emerging from all the difficulties of the present time, and I wish it well. I’m just not sure it has a place for people like me in it. At least I now have the go-ahead to prepare an exit strategy.
Wednesday, 23 January 2008
Can I stop now please?
The original purpose of this blog was for me to explore my current life and work, and to think through possibilities for the way ahead. Having been in professional ministry for so many years, what does the future hold? For many of my colleagues, the answer is simple. More of the same, even into retirement, when many of them almost immediately become attached to parishes and go on doing all the same things. I wonder. If it is possible to discern a vocation to ministry, is it possible to discern a vocation to leave? In other words, to feel drawn to set the role aside, not because you feel you can’t do it, or don’t believe in it any more; but simply because one feels that one has done enough and has no more to offer. I have officiated at public worship on more than 1,500 Sundays. My ministry is longer than Our Lord’s entire life, for goodness sake! Just imagine how he’d be, still traipsing the countryside at nearly sixty, still expected to come up with that fine phrase, that clever parable, still putting up with dim-witted disciples who manage to misunderstand what he is saying. Isn’t it time to stop? What more can I say or do? I’d really like some time to do something that nourishes my spirit, that helps me pay attention to the condition of my immortal soul. In the Church of the 21st century, in England, managing parishes is most definitely not it. I’m off to see The Boss about my ministerial review now. More later.
ISTJness
Getting ready for this Myers Briggs training day sent me looking for the funny bits to do in between the real work. There are some good things out there, which you can find on many blogs and websites. These include the MBTI light bulb jokes; MBTI versions of the serenity prayer; MBTI for cats (yes, really); and MBTI and the half empty/full glass. Plus the negative type descriptions I referred to in an earlier post. One place where you can get see of these is FUN and JOKES : Myers Briggs Personality Type .
What’s it like being ISTJ? Quite quiet. And you don’t often get chance to compare notes with other ISTJs either. Left to ourselves, we don’t get out much.
The rest of this post is some stuff I wrote last year while studying for my MBTI practitioner qualification:
"ISTJs …. Have a strong sense of responsibility and great loyalty to organizations, families and relationships…. Work with steady energy to fulfil commitments as stated and on time … generally prefer to work alone and be accountable for the results … comfortable in teams when that is necessary to do the job correctly, when roles are clearly defined … Competence and responsibility are important to (them).
Profound respect for facts … have a store of information upon which they can draw to understand the present … objective, tough minded and logical … They believe standard procedures exist because such procedures work… ISTJs will support change only when facts demonstrate that such change will bring better results."
Briggs Myers, Kirby & Myers “Introduction to Type” sixth edition 2000
Phew! And that’s some of the good stuff! I do sound awfully serious. But I did read somewhere else that these types have an internal conversation going on constantly (true) which is why they often think that something has been said or clarified, it hasn’t; that was just part of the dialogue going on in their heads! And they enjoy a quirky and eccentric view of the world they observe.
So if all this is true, why have I been able to spend all these years in a people job, working with people, with individuals, with groups; public speaking; music, and all that. Because we can all use all the functions of our personality, it’s just that we prefer some to others; and we can develop all the functions, it’s just that it takes longer, and is more demanding, and draining of energy, to use the less-preferred functions. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed what I have done, but as I get older, it gets harder to keep it all up; my energy levels fall more rapidly, and my confidence gets knocked more easily. My default position becomes a solitary one, or at least in a quiet, safe environment with members of a small trusted group. And, as Jung pointed out, as we get older, we want to develop the less preferred functions, perhaps in leisure or retirement activities. So I actually don’t want to just keep on doing what I know I can do quite well; instead of a well–organised working environment, I’m happy exploring tai chi and body prayer helping people work through issues in personal and spiritual development.
Now comes the real down side ….. what happens under pressure and extreme stress:
"Under great stress, ISTJs may be unable to use their customary calm, reasonable judgement and get caught up in “catastrophising” – imagining a host of negative possibilities for themselves and others."
“Introduction to Type” 2000
So the ISTJ often says “The glass is half empty now; but I wouldn’t be surprised if it evaporated completely before too long!” We can find compliments hard to hear, but will take personal criticism to heart immediately. Expressing our feelings out loud or in person is often difficult; so maybe ISTJs are over-represented amongst bloggers, because we can express ourselves safely and freely here?
Research suggests that around 13% of the UK population is ISTJ, in other words the modal type (which means there more of us than any other type). Not many of them do MBTI workshops. There were just two of us on the one I did, and I and this tall, serious German woman dressed in black looked at each other with some consternation, but when we worked together, and talked about how we liked to deal with the world, we knew we were in the right place!
ISTJs are over-represented in careers like librarianship (which was my first proper job after school), research (which I love) and accountancy (which I wouldn’t go near with a barge pole) Bean counters! The other common illustration used of this type is a filing cabinet!
We are great collectors, sorters and storers, and excellent observers of details. Reliving experiences (eg on a blog!) can sometimes be more vivid than the original, coming to a “strong sense of groundedness and a great fund of knowledge of what is, and of their personal history”. Much of this, being introverted, will not be apparent to those around them, even those close to them. So that’s us.
What’s it like being ISTJ? Quite quiet. And you don’t often get chance to compare notes with other ISTJs either. Left to ourselves, we don’t get out much.
The rest of this post is some stuff I wrote last year while studying for my MBTI practitioner qualification:
"ISTJs …. Have a strong sense of responsibility and great loyalty to organizations, families and relationships…. Work with steady energy to fulfil commitments as stated and on time … generally prefer to work alone and be accountable for the results … comfortable in teams when that is necessary to do the job correctly, when roles are clearly defined … Competence and responsibility are important to (them).
Profound respect for facts … have a store of information upon which they can draw to understand the present … objective, tough minded and logical … They believe standard procedures exist because such procedures work… ISTJs will support change only when facts demonstrate that such change will bring better results."
Briggs Myers, Kirby & Myers “Introduction to Type” sixth edition 2000
Phew! And that’s some of the good stuff! I do sound awfully serious. But I did read somewhere else that these types have an internal conversation going on constantly (true) which is why they often think that something has been said or clarified, it hasn’t; that was just part of the dialogue going on in their heads! And they enjoy a quirky and eccentric view of the world they observe.
So if all this is true, why have I been able to spend all these years in a people job, working with people, with individuals, with groups; public speaking; music, and all that. Because we can all use all the functions of our personality, it’s just that we prefer some to others; and we can develop all the functions, it’s just that it takes longer, and is more demanding, and draining of energy, to use the less-preferred functions. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed what I have done, but as I get older, it gets harder to keep it all up; my energy levels fall more rapidly, and my confidence gets knocked more easily. My default position becomes a solitary one, or at least in a quiet, safe environment with members of a small trusted group. And, as Jung pointed out, as we get older, we want to develop the less preferred functions, perhaps in leisure or retirement activities. So I actually don’t want to just keep on doing what I know I can do quite well; instead of a well–organised working environment, I’m happy exploring tai chi and body prayer helping people work through issues in personal and spiritual development.
Now comes the real down side ….. what happens under pressure and extreme stress:
"Under great stress, ISTJs may be unable to use their customary calm, reasonable judgement and get caught up in “catastrophising” – imagining a host of negative possibilities for themselves and others."
“Introduction to Type” 2000
So the ISTJ often says “The glass is half empty now; but I wouldn’t be surprised if it evaporated completely before too long!” We can find compliments hard to hear, but will take personal criticism to heart immediately. Expressing our feelings out loud or in person is often difficult; so maybe ISTJs are over-represented amongst bloggers, because we can express ourselves safely and freely here?
Research suggests that around 13% of the UK population is ISTJ, in other words the modal type (which means there more of us than any other type). Not many of them do MBTI workshops. There were just two of us on the one I did, and I and this tall, serious German woman dressed in black looked at each other with some consternation, but when we worked together, and talked about how we liked to deal with the world, we knew we were in the right place!
ISTJs are over-represented in careers like librarianship (which was my first proper job after school), research (which I love) and accountancy (which I wouldn’t go near with a barge pole) Bean counters! The other common illustration used of this type is a filing cabinet!
We are great collectors, sorters and storers, and excellent observers of details. Reliving experiences (eg on a blog!) can sometimes be more vivid than the original, coming to a “strong sense of groundedness and a great fund of knowledge of what is, and of their personal history”. Much of this, being introverted, will not be apparent to those around them, even those close to them. So that’s us.
Myersbriggsing
So, a good Myers Briggs workshop for a ministry team in the south of the diocese. My co-trainer and I (completely opposite types) worked well together and we had a lot of fun. One of the best bits is hamming it up in between the sessions, items, roleplays, etc, where we can play to type, and against type. It probably makes more telling points about type difference that stay with people than some of the formal stuff. Good fun. I enjoyed it.
Monday, 21 January 2008
This is the Word of the Lord;possibly
A conversation on the phone about scriptural authority led to some ideas on further liturgical reform (What? Doesn’t everyone do this?)
In England most scripture, however obscure, is usually terminated by the formula
This is the Word of the Lord
THANKS BE TO GOD
We reckon we could improve on that in time for Common Worship 2020. Try these out before the Liturgical Commission copyright them.
1.
I’m not sure this is the Word of the Lord
2.
Those fundamentalists think that this is the Word of the Lord
3. (for seasonal use - the panto season)
This is the Word of the Lord
OH NO IT ISN’T!
Oh yes it is!
OH NO IT ISN’T!
4.
If this is the Word of the Lord I’m a monkey’s uncle
5. (for use in university cities)
This isn’t the Word of the Lord, but it is a powerful myth which contains timeless truths that help us to make sense of the human condition, and themes which re-appear in many of the great religions of the world, and therefore, while not necessarily literally true, nevertheless contains great truth on which we might all profitably reflect
HMMM, THAT’S REALLY INTERESTING, WE’D LIKE TO DISCUSS THIS WITH YOU FURTHER; HOW ABOUT WE HOLD A SEMINAR OVER COFFEE AT THE BACK OF CHURCH WHEN THE SERVICE ENDS?
In England most scripture, however obscure, is usually terminated by the formula
This is the Word of the Lord
THANKS BE TO GOD
We reckon we could improve on that in time for Common Worship 2020. Try these out before the Liturgical Commission copyright them.
1.
I’m not sure this is the Word of the Lord
2.
Those fundamentalists think that this is the Word of the Lord
3. (for seasonal use - the panto season)
This is the Word of the Lord
OH NO IT ISN’T!
Oh yes it is!
OH NO IT ISN’T!
4.
If this is the Word of the Lord I’m a monkey’s uncle
5. (for use in university cities)
This isn’t the Word of the Lord, but it is a powerful myth which contains timeless truths that help us to make sense of the human condition, and themes which re-appear in many of the great religions of the world, and therefore, while not necessarily literally true, nevertheless contains great truth on which we might all profitably reflect
HMMM, THAT’S REALLY INTERESTING, WE’D LIKE TO DISCUSS THIS WITH YOU FURTHER; HOW ABOUT WE HOLD A SEMINAR OVER COFFEE AT THE BACK OF CHURCH WHEN THE SERVICE ENDS?
Extreme Pilgrim
This is the title of a short TV series in UK in which a Church of England priest, Peter Lewis Jones, goes off in search of spiritual paths; in China, India, and, the other night, by traveling out into the deserts of Upper Egypt to spend three weeks alone in the caves at the Monastery of St Anthony. His guide is the wonderful Father Lazarus, who has a much more spectacular beard than me.
I was skeptical about this series, fearing some of the worst aspects of both reality TV styles, and western spiritual tourism which parachutes people into situations and expects instant results. I have to say I was wrong, and was impressed by the programme and its central character. His time in Egypt was very honest, very open and very brave. He began by challenging the prevailing dualist theology, which encourages a life of constant prayer with the threat that the demons will get you if you don’t. Jones didn’t find this attractive or compelling, and neither do I. I found the same thing reading William Dalrymple’s “From the Holy Mountain” last year. Eventually, however, Jones set this aside, and simply set about the task in hand; maintaining the pattern of his devotions in an implacably hostile environment; facing up to the external challenge of his situation, and the inner challenge of confronting his own faith and personality. I thought he came through the whole thing as a brave and wise individual who had grown visibly through the experience.
I was skeptical about this series, fearing some of the worst aspects of both reality TV styles, and western spiritual tourism which parachutes people into situations and expects instant results. I have to say I was wrong, and was impressed by the programme and its central character. His time in Egypt was very honest, very open and very brave. He began by challenging the prevailing dualist theology, which encourages a life of constant prayer with the threat that the demons will get you if you don’t. Jones didn’t find this attractive or compelling, and neither do I. I found the same thing reading William Dalrymple’s “From the Holy Mountain” last year. Eventually, however, Jones set this aside, and simply set about the task in hand; maintaining the pattern of his devotions in an implacably hostile environment; facing up to the external challenge of his situation, and the inner challenge of confronting his own faith and personality. I thought he came through the whole thing as a brave and wise individual who had grown visibly through the experience.
Blue Monday
Today is apparently “Blue Monday”, when a combination of negative factors produce the nation’s gloomiest day of the year; the credit crunch, broken New Year resolutions, four weeks since the sparkle of Christmas, etc. I feel fine this morning. This time last year I could hardly walk, having spend weeks with a back injury that I was gradually recovering from with exercise, chiropractic and tai chi. I was waiting for throat investigations and voice therapy for a voice problem with speaking and singing that was causing a lot of difficulties and concern, as it could possibly indicate Something Nasty. It didn’t. So actually, I feel quite good.
Saturday, 19 January 2008
Things work again
The boiler man has been and got the system working, so I can emerge from the bedroom where I have spent my off duty two days living like an ancient eccentric surrounded by piles of books and the laptop. I can come out now and have a bath and use the rest of the building. He has also replaced another two washbasin taps, the old ones destroyed by the terrible limescale in the water here. And on Monday the back doors, which are currently banging in the wind, will be replaced! At the moment it has stopped raining so there’s even a possibility of a walk up the hill, though it does not look promising out there (see below).
The Dude seems to be enjoying life as a worker troll guarding stuff, we now hardly see each other at all. Nocturnal text messaging is a growth area in our communications; with my insomnia and Tigger’s night duties there are more family members awake at night than there are during the day.
My mood has been good, even buoyant, since New Year. Perhaps writing the blog has contributed to this. I don’t know. I hope it continues, but next week is a challenge; the deanery clergy chapter meeting and my bi=annual ministerial review with the bishop. Oh joy. Still at least I have the Myers Briggs workshop to look forward to. Off for a walk up the hill.
The Dude seems to be enjoying life as a worker troll guarding stuff, we now hardly see each other at all. Nocturnal text messaging is a growth area in our communications; with my insomnia and Tigger’s night duties there are more family members awake at night than there are during the day.
My mood has been good, even buoyant, since New Year. Perhaps writing the blog has contributed to this. I don’t know. I hope it continues, but next week is a challenge; the deanery clergy chapter meeting and my bi=annual ministerial review with the bishop. Oh joy. Still at least I have the Myers Briggs workshop to look forward to. Off for a walk up the hill.
Friday, 18 January 2008
Contemplative Fire
By the way, Philip Roderick does some really good stuff. See http://contemplativefire.org/ and Philip's blog http://rodericksrambles.wordpress.com/. The DVD is called Sacred Posture, and was filmed at the Society of Mary and Martha at Sheldon.
Close the Book
Gloucester diocese are running a programme in primary schools called “Open the Book”, to introduce children to the stories of the Bible. Other dioceses are picking it up too. I think we are running “Close the Book” here. More and more of our school assemblies involve fewer and fewer words. Today I introduced the little village school to Sacred Posture, the work of Philip Roderick on Body Prayer. They took to it straight away. I had thirty five children, plus two teachers and a mum, spread out around the hall, standing still and silent while we reflected on the Lord’s Prayer …. for ten minutes! We’ll go on and learn the movements, which are simple and slow, a bit like tai chi. Just think what it’ll be like if it ever stops raining and we can go and do this outside on the field!
Thursday, 17 January 2008
God's frozen people
The central heating boiler has died. It died two days ago. It is not too cold at the moment, but still very windy and pouring with rain, so the house is chilly and draughty and nothing dries when you come in from outside. The Dude is at his new job guarding things, on night duty, and so is either at work or in bed. Tigger is working this weekend, so not here. Me, I’ve taken this as a sign from God that I should visit more old people. I spent two hours in one of the care homes this morning. It was so warm I had to take my coat AND my pullover off. I’ve done hospital visits too. Lovely warm wards. The weather has been appallingly bad, and all the lanes around are streaming with water. The main street of the little town has been running with water, and at one point the drain covers were being lifted by the force of it.
It’s getting late now, and I’m upstairs with an oil-filled radiator on, trying to hold out a bit longer before going to bed. Maybe I’ll put a hat and scarf on and go downstairs to make some tea.
It’s getting late now, and I’m upstairs with an oil-filled radiator on, trying to hold out a bit longer before going to bed. Maybe I’ll put a hat and scarf on and go downstairs to make some tea.
Napoli - Just one cornetto? 2
Course it was never going to work out. Not because Tigger won't travel; she pointed out to me that she's ready for off as far as Abroad is concerned. No, but it's freezing cold and wet in Naples too at present, and they're having a rubbish strike, so not a great time to go. Plus our friend reveals that he hasn't actually got anywhere to live yet, and i bet we couldn't find a cheap flight. I don't believe in cheap air travel. I mean i don't believe it exists. Yes, you can go to a town in Poland that is unpronouncable and has no vowels in its name, and arrive at four in the morning and it will cost you £18.99. But try to go where you want, when you want, and the tickets are always £392. We'll stop here.
Monday, 14 January 2008
Napoli - just one cornetto?
The blog has reached Laos, where our friend is currently back-packing, lucky sod. On return he plans to fly out almost immediately to Italy for a job in Naples. Even luckier sod! "Come with me for a few days!" he says in his email. Ah well, yes, maybe, maybe not. It's cheap, that's true, but there are Issues. I may be Eeyore, but I'd be off like a shot. Herself, now, thats different. Tigger she may be, but she is also a Cautious Traveller. Like fine wine and delicate porcelain, the Tigger does not travel well, or lightly. Her ideal trip out of these islands would be for a minimum of six weeks. So nipping off to Naples for a couple of days and an ice cream in the piazza is not really her idea of a proper trip. So. Will it happen? Another cliff-hanger for all you readers out there. It's better than the telly.
I know your type
Went off tonight in the pouring rain to do some preparation for a Myers Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) training day I'm helping with for a ministry team in the south of the diocese. If you don't know, or don't care for, Myers Briggs, you can skip the rest of this post. i qualified as a practitioner in October, and so am looking for opportunities to "consolidate my learning" as we trainers say. After we'd done the prep, we played around with some of the jokey stuff you can download from the internet for Myers Briggs workshops, how many of each type does it take to change a lightbulb, and so on. Myers Briggs is relentlessly positive, so just for a change someone has written some negative descriptions. One of the spoof descriptions has "ESTJ - Stuffed Shirt - no imagination, no flexibility, no common sense, no capacity for tolerance of others with different priorities". Then "ISTJ (me!) - Bean Counter" - Like ESTJ, but with less vision."
Bean Counter! My insult of choice for the people I dislike most! How could they! Do they not realise our gifts! Anyway, I like to think that I am an ISTJ who has come over to the Light Side, one who has decided to use his Powers for Good; a sort of White ISTJ, unlike those others, the Black ISTJs, who have misused the Force and who end up making a stack of money as corporate finance directors for Nestle and Microsoft. I spend my time bringing joy into the world, helping ENFPs find the lost files on their computers, and devising church service timetables for ministry teams full of NF types who can't make decisions. I never make any money. And if i did, I wouldn't be able to count it without help.
By the way, on Eeyoreness: I found one of those questionnaire columns in a magazine, filled in by Raymond Briggs, the author. Clearly a kindred spirit. "What disappointments have you had in your life?" he was asked. "I'm a pessimist," he replied, "We don't have disappointments."
The training day is next week. I'll let you know how it goes.
Bean Counter! My insult of choice for the people I dislike most! How could they! Do they not realise our gifts! Anyway, I like to think that I am an ISTJ who has come over to the Light Side, one who has decided to use his Powers for Good; a sort of White ISTJ, unlike those others, the Black ISTJs, who have misused the Force and who end up making a stack of money as corporate finance directors for Nestle and Microsoft. I spend my time bringing joy into the world, helping ENFPs find the lost files on their computers, and devising church service timetables for ministry teams full of NF types who can't make decisions. I never make any money. And if i did, I wouldn't be able to count it without help.
By the way, on Eeyoreness: I found one of those questionnaire columns in a magazine, filled in by Raymond Briggs, the author. Clearly a kindred spirit. "What disappointments have you had in your life?" he was asked. "I'm a pessimist," he replied, "We don't have disappointments."
The training day is next week. I'll let you know how it goes.
Anglican bloggers
I've checked out this Anglican bloggers unite stuff and the idea of a "Facebook Communion" to solve all the problems of Anglicanism worldwide. As far as I can see, all it does is import all the usual arguments into interminable blogs, with everyone arguing with each other, as in meetings, newspapers and websites all over the place already. What does this actually achieve? More to the point, is it attractive? Not to me it isn't. I don't want to give the Akinolas of this world the oxygen of publicity; I don't want to pay those trad Aussies the compliment of my attention. The truth is, I am bored by all this stuff. I like Dave Walker's cartoons; I think he has an authentic, witty take on the Church of England that amuses me, and makes me think a bit. But the rest of it you can keep. I've checked out of communion with all that. I don't need all those words. I don't want the aggro. Thanks all the same.
Friday, 11 January 2008
The Dude walks tall
The Dude has returned from his training course, walking taller and with considerably more confidence, self-whatsit and all that. Apparently they worked them hard; group sessions with all these guys who are going off in to airports and nightclubs and stuff; late night sessions; an exam; a handbook. Remarkable. Anyway he has his SIA ticket now and is, as they say, awaiting orders. And he gets his own hotline phone. We practiced the telephone numerical call signs (Roger bravo, niner, niner, three-er, fiver) while ordering a celebratory curry (one-er chicken madraser, two pilau rice-er, etc).
New lists for the New Year
Not only that, but awards have been handed out at To Do List, including Craziest List of the Year and Words I Want to Use! www.todolistblogcom . Still no sign of any New Year Lists from me, but I'm thinking about them. Must do the Christmas cards too.
Another awful week
Another awful week for Anglican bishops (Bishop of Hereford gets Bigot of the Year Award from Stonewall; Bishop of Rochester tries to frighten us with "Muslim no-go areas"). More to come on these subjects no doubt, but, hey, the snow is not laying, the wind is dying down to gale force and I'm remaining cheerful and upbeat because my blogging is improving. For instance, I've found the Cartoon Church www.cartoonchurch.com/blog . Not only that but my good friend and godson appears in a little exchange with cartoonist Dave Walker at one point (Dave misunderstood the subtle and clever play on words perpetrated by my intelligent and witty young friend). You could look at ben's site too if you like; he has taken some brill photos http://www.paktocon.com/. I never thought I'd use the phrase "It's a small world!" - about the internet!
Monday, 7 January 2008
It could only happen here! 3
Popped into the Tap to wish Himself and His Wife a Happy New Year. Four or five of the regulars were there. His Wife brought in the Big Brewer's breakfast; thick buttered toast with cashew nut butter and Marmite. This is what makes the Big Brewer big. "Have some!" he says. Incomers like me go shy; oh, no, we mustn't take your breakfast. We can't have you wasting away. The locals have no such scruples. It's a Sunday lunchtime custom, apparently, though I haven't seen it before. Toast is passed, shared, enjoyed. Another plateful appears. And then another. Everyone munches contentedly, drawing on pints of His beer. Almost eucharistic. If heaven's half as good as the Tap, I'll be happy there.
Sunday, 6 January 2008
Happy New Year!
Happy New Year!
What's happened on the blog so far? You may be forgiven for wondering what all this is about. You may be reading as an archive in 2011, wondering what it was all about; I can't help you, as I don't have the benefit of hindsight. A bit of catching up might help.
Racing Demon was the title of a play by David Hare about the Church of England, taken from a card game where no one knows the rules and the whole thing proceeds and ends chaotically. I saw it at the National Theatre. Lots of talking, and while the characters were talking they shuffled paper, stapled and filed things. And the blog name comes from the Matthew Arnold poem "Dover Beach", taken up and used by radical theologians including Don Cupitt and the novelist Ian McEwan, in "Saturday". This Racing Demon is taking an increasingly jaundiced view of the Church of England from the point of view of one who has been part and parcel of the whole thing for many years, but perhaps not for too much longer. There are also observations of life in this peculiar and delightful part of England, which is not named, and of people - friends, family and neighbours - who are also not named. That gives me a chance to be honest. I am critical, but like to believe that it is kindly meant. Some people get initials and some get nicknames. Sometimes the nicknames get changed, or people have more than one. I'm sorry, but I haven't always asked permission of you, nor if you approve of the names. Finally, my Myers-Briggs type description says that I am "likely to enjoy a quirky, individual and eccentric view of life, and to revel in the detail of it".
That's about it really. I've found out how to do some other stuff, so you can see the improvements. The picture used on the header is of me looking out over Cardigan Bay. Some have spoken approvingly of this photo, though others have asked what has happened to the rest of my legs.
What's happened on the blog so far? You may be forgiven for wondering what all this is about. You may be reading as an archive in 2011, wondering what it was all about; I can't help you, as I don't have the benefit of hindsight. A bit of catching up might help.
Racing Demon was the title of a play by David Hare about the Church of England, taken from a card game where no one knows the rules and the whole thing proceeds and ends chaotically. I saw it at the National Theatre. Lots of talking, and while the characters were talking they shuffled paper, stapled and filed things. And the blog name comes from the Matthew Arnold poem "Dover Beach", taken up and used by radical theologians including Don Cupitt and the novelist Ian McEwan, in "Saturday". This Racing Demon is taking an increasingly jaundiced view of the Church of England from the point of view of one who has been part and parcel of the whole thing for many years, but perhaps not for too much longer. There are also observations of life in this peculiar and delightful part of England, which is not named, and of people - friends, family and neighbours - who are also not named. That gives me a chance to be honest. I am critical, but like to believe that it is kindly meant. Some people get initials and some get nicknames. Sometimes the nicknames get changed, or people have more than one. I'm sorry, but I haven't always asked permission of you, nor if you approve of the names. Finally, my Myers-Briggs type description says that I am "likely to enjoy a quirky, individual and eccentric view of life, and to revel in the detail of it".
That's about it really. I've found out how to do some other stuff, so you can see the improvements. The picture used on the header is of me looking out over Cardigan Bay. Some have spoken approvingly of this photo, though others have asked what has happened to the rest of my legs.
Ties that bind
H has returned from Australia with an enthusiasm for the Anglican Communion. She found a tiny church in the Blue Mountains where, she says, "I found myself instantly at home!" She was taken in, made friends, exchanged news and plans, read the lesson at Christmas. I remember finding the same thing years ago in Trinidad and Tobago. Wandering into the Cathedral in Port of Spain, I looked at the familiar blue Ancient and Modern hymnbooks. Inside they were stamped with the name of a church in Streatham. In Tobago, we found a man walking along the street leading a goat on a string. He turned out to be the parish priest. I told him who I was and we chatted for a while. "Come and preach tomorrow!" he said, "It's Harvest Festival!" I asked what time the service was and he said "Six o'clock". "Ah, sorry; we're going out tomorrow night" I replied. "In the morning!" he said. Not being able to come up with an excuse we turned up and I spoke off the cuff. Best Harvest I've ever been to. Followed by a good breakfast.
Before returning to work we got out our diaries and started to plan our year; yes, we really do mean, year. So many things seem to be happening, family and friends having Events and Occasions. The tieing nature of ministry is starting to really bite now. I find I have to make choices between one special occasion and another; a special birthday, or a wedding? an ordination or a christening? Not easy. Weekends have always been at a premium, but after all these years it gets harder. While mother is alive, why should I not get to see her a couple of times each year, Mothering Sunday and her birthday? But add in everything else and it becomes a calendar nightmare. The Christmas cards express the hope that "we'll meet up in 2008", but I know that for most of those, the hope is a forlorn one.
Before returning to work we got out our diaries and started to plan our year; yes, we really do mean, year. So many things seem to be happening, family and friends having Events and Occasions. The tieing nature of ministry is starting to really bite now. I find I have to make choices between one special occasion and another; a special birthday, or a wedding? an ordination or a christening? Not easy. Weekends have always been at a premium, but after all these years it gets harder. While mother is alive, why should I not get to see her a couple of times each year, Mothering Sunday and her birthday? But add in everything else and it becomes a calendar nightmare. The Christmas cards express the hope that "we'll meet up in 2008", but I know that for most of those, the hope is a forlorn one.
Brightest and best
Two days ago I was drinking coffee in the hatch of the boat, staring into space and not thinking about anything in particular.
"You look like you're totally at peace, with not a care in the world!" said a man on the towpath. "True," I said, "until I go back tomorrow." "Don't go back!" he replied. Don't think I haven't thought of it.
But .... first church services of 2008, and cause for optimism. In the tiny church away up the frozen valley, a lovely simple eucharist. At 9.30am (the advertised starting time) there were four people in church, so we arranged ourselves on chairs in the choir area. Another six people appeared as we began, but it was OK, and we shared a special time together at the beginning of the year. The valley was cold and dark; sun does not penetrate down here at this time of year. Back in the little town, the lay-led service was just about on the money as far as I was concerned; forty-two minutes, good, well-planned material, well presented, and with the youngsters involved in a procession of the three kings, bringing gifts to the crib. Gosh; maybe I can make myself redundant! Always a sense of acting out of time at Epiphany; all those who couldn't wait to get decorations up at the end of November are desperate to rip them down as soon as New Year's Day is over (if they wait that long). To see the church, with huge Christmas tree still lit, crib in place and carols sung is odd for visitors. I must remember, it is all of them who are out of step with us. H has returned from a month in the Blue Mountains of Australia, where, she claims, she found a church just like ours! I find that hard to believe, even if the priest was barefoot! Just try doing that this morning up the valley.
"You look like you're totally at peace, with not a care in the world!" said a man on the towpath. "True," I said, "until I go back tomorrow." "Don't go back!" he replied. Don't think I haven't thought of it.
But .... first church services of 2008, and cause for optimism. In the tiny church away up the frozen valley, a lovely simple eucharist. At 9.30am (the advertised starting time) there were four people in church, so we arranged ourselves on chairs in the choir area. Another six people appeared as we began, but it was OK, and we shared a special time together at the beginning of the year. The valley was cold and dark; sun does not penetrate down here at this time of year. Back in the little town, the lay-led service was just about on the money as far as I was concerned; forty-two minutes, good, well-planned material, well presented, and with the youngsters involved in a procession of the three kings, bringing gifts to the crib. Gosh; maybe I can make myself redundant! Always a sense of acting out of time at Epiphany; all those who couldn't wait to get decorations up at the end of November are desperate to rip them down as soon as New Year's Day is over (if they wait that long). To see the church, with huge Christmas tree still lit, crib in place and carols sung is odd for visitors. I must remember, it is all of them who are out of step with us. H has returned from a month in the Blue Mountains of Australia, where, she claims, she found a church just like ours! I find that hard to believe, even if the priest was barefoot! Just try doing that this morning up the valley.
Revelations
"Revelations", the Canongate collection of prefaces to the "Pocket Canons", published a few years ago; an event which produced a strong reaction from one evangelical group who tried to prosecute for blasphemy. So must be getting something right then. These are introductions to books of the Bible, written by an ecelectic group of people; Will Self, the Dalai Lama, Louis be Bernieres, etc and with a superb introduction to the whole book by Richard Holloway. This last is a small masterpeice, justifying at one and the same time the reading of biblical texts in the modern age, while also engaging one's brain, using science, literature, politics and indeed every other human discipline to shine light on ancient sacred texts.
Approximately the same number of people commit suicide in the UK as are killed on the roads. Uro Grasoff collected forty five suicide notes or letters, and reflects on them in his book, "Let me Finish". His introduction is superb and thought-provoking, casting light on a subject still taboo, especially for Christians, despite a long tradition of attempts at understanding the phenomenon (it was defended by the Scottish philosopher David Hume) and seeking to provide help and support for those facing such decisions (from Samaritans to the euthanasia clinics of Holland and other places).
Approximately the same number of people commit suicide in the UK as are killed on the roads. Uro Grasoff collected forty five suicide notes or letters, and reflects on them in his book, "Let me Finish". His introduction is superb and thought-provoking, casting light on a subject still taboo, especially for Christians, despite a long tradition of attempts at understanding the phenomenon (it was defended by the Scottish philosopher David Hume) and seeking to provide help and support for those facing such decisions (from Samaritans to the euthanasia clinics of Holland and other places).
Christmas shopping
Everyone else has finished Christmas shopping and gone off to buy new kitchens, bathrooms and sofas, if the TV is to be believed. That should leave some space in the shops for us, although the place seems to be heaving when we get there.
Straight to the discount bookshop, where, Tigger tells me, many bargains are to be found and many books that I would enjoy are to be had. including, she says, an interesting book of suicide notes that I might enjoy. I'm not sure if she's being serious or not, but it does sound interesting. An hour's of searching produces "Finding Sanctuary", by the Abbot of Worth (good; the book of the reality TV series), but no suicide notes. How to proceed? Do I go to the counter, wish them happy new year and ask where they keep the books on suicide? I leave without it and report back. Exasperated, Tigger comes back with me. In no time I have a pile of stuff that I hadn't spotted; her car-boot sale scanning techniques turn up all kinds of treasures. To be fair, some of the most interesting had been hidden among the sex manuals, so I wouldn't have found them there. No suicide notes, so T marches to the counter and asks ("It's not for me, it's for my husband!") and the book is found. Looks interesting (Udo Grasoff "Let me Finish"). My stack also includes "A Short History of Myth" by Karen Armstrong, "Watching the English", social anthropology by Kate Fox; "The Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow" by Jerome K Jerome, and "In Praise of Slow". Also a couple of philosophy readers, and a book on Sleeping (or how to deal with not sleeping, which is more to the point). And some other stuff. More later, i assume, as i get into reading them.
Straight to the discount bookshop, where, Tigger tells me, many bargains are to be found and many books that I would enjoy are to be had. including, she says, an interesting book of suicide notes that I might enjoy. I'm not sure if she's being serious or not, but it does sound interesting. An hour's of searching produces "Finding Sanctuary", by the Abbot of Worth (good; the book of the reality TV series), but no suicide notes. How to proceed? Do I go to the counter, wish them happy new year and ask where they keep the books on suicide? I leave without it and report back. Exasperated, Tigger comes back with me. In no time I have a pile of stuff that I hadn't spotted; her car-boot sale scanning techniques turn up all kinds of treasures. To be fair, some of the most interesting had been hidden among the sex manuals, so I wouldn't have found them there. No suicide notes, so T marches to the counter and asks ("It's not for me, it's for my husband!") and the book is found. Looks interesting (Udo Grasoff "Let me Finish"). My stack also includes "A Short History of Myth" by Karen Armstrong, "Watching the English", social anthropology by Kate Fox; "The Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow" by Jerome K Jerome, and "In Praise of Slow". Also a couple of philosophy readers, and a book on Sleeping (or how to deal with not sleeping, which is more to the point). And some other stuff. More later, i assume, as i get into reading them.
Silent Night
Christmas Day. Lovely sunny afternoon, so we load up the car with uncooked turkey, assorted vegs, three folding chairs, a swiss cheese plant, and various other essentials, and drive fifty miles down to our boat mooring. No 2 son has kindly agreed to his place being used as the venue for Christmas, but he is lacking in some of life's necessities, like enough furniture on which to entertain guests. The sun is bright, the air clear and crisp, as we drive along past strolling families who have had their turkey and are walking it off. It is just getting dark as we arrive.
Although where we live out in the country the nights are often very quiet, and you can walk home down the centre of the main street at 10.30pm and not meet any traffic, when we reach the city where our boat is moored, we are amazed at the silence that blankets the whole place. Christmas night must be one of the few silent nights now left in our towns and cities and indeed many parts of the UK. No traffic, no cars or buses, and few people; no pubs, restaurants, shops are open, so no reason to go out.
Time at last to bring out the box of Christmas cards - none opened yet. Tomorrow is lunch with the sons and lady friends. Tonight is rest.
Although where we live out in the country the nights are often very quiet, and you can walk home down the centre of the main street at 10.30pm and not meet any traffic, when we reach the city where our boat is moored, we are amazed at the silence that blankets the whole place. Christmas night must be one of the few silent nights now left in our towns and cities and indeed many parts of the UK. No traffic, no cars or buses, and few people; no pubs, restaurants, shops are open, so no reason to go out.
Time at last to bring out the box of Christmas cards - none opened yet. Tomorrow is lunch with the sons and lady friends. Tonight is rest.
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