Let's see, where were we?

Oh yes, this is supposed to be a blog charting my relationship with the Church of England, or more accurately, the decline in that relationship. But actually, we seem to have arrived at a plateau in that relationship, and things are, well, quiet, at present. We don’t say a lot to each other, the rest of the diocese and I. I haven’t been in the Cathedral this year. I haven’t seen the bishop for over six months. I don’t reply to a lot of the diocesan email traffic. Have you noticed that if you stop replying and sending emails, you also stop receiving them? I mean the junk and stuff; obviously, if you stop writing to your mates they don’t write to you, I know that. But my junk mail count has gone down dramatically. So that’s good.

The thing is, with very few exceptions, I’ve never really enjoyed the company of clergy. Generally, they make me nervous, or bored, or I’m just left feeling as though I don’t fit in. Thirty five years, and I still feel as though I’m on the outside looking in. Not that I want to be in either. I’m OK with being an outsider. It just puzzles me.

I was at a church service, a funeral, in the south of England not long ago. I knew no-one in the church except the bereaved family. I went in to the refreshments afterwards and looked around and sat down beside a lady in a dog-collar, who was politely welcoming. We did the usual stuff; where are you from; who do you know; how are you getting back. She very kindly offered to take me to the station, for which I am very grateful. And we did talk about ministry and stuff, but it all felt a bit stilted. She was non-stipendiary; a volunteer, therefore. She made it clear that although she worked in the parish, she didn’t live there, and couldn’t afford to live there. I said it must be a busy place, to which she replied that “they set the bar high for their clergy”. I offered the opinion that she was the future of the church , and old dinosaurs of stipendiary clergy like me were on the way out. No comment. I mentioned the emphasis in our part of the world on lay ministry as part of the solution. No comment. Lines of discussion got started, and then led nowhere. Was she interested? Bored with shop talk? Didn’t agree with me? We’ll never know. We parted happily enough, me to the train, she to her allotment, and I wished her well.

The Escape Plan continues. I’ve got to grips with iTunes now, and am digitalizing our music collection (is “digitalize” a word; or is it “digitize”? Dunno). This is quite large – some 400 albums I reckon – so is going to take some time. It’s all going onto an external hard drive, and can then be copied onto an iPod, or similar. Cousin D has over 1,400 albums on one iPod, he tells me. He’s my 24 hour technical support. I rang him the other day. He was in an airport departure lounge, heading for Vienna. Mrs Demon and I look forward to a simple carefree existence, living on our boat and moving slowly around the inland waterways system, but we cannot survive taking off with the minimum of belongings unless that includes a handy pocket size version of our entire music collection to take with us. Once that is done, I have to digitalize all our slide photos, which go back long before the boys were born, and contain lots of really important stuff from the days when were backpackers and intrepid travellers. So tonight I’ve been trawling the net looking at reviews of slide scanners. Down-sizing is so much more complicated than it used to be.

It's not the end of the World

If like me you dropped physics at 14 and don't have a clue what all this LHC stuff is all about, try this. Many thanks to second son for the link. really good stuff on the blog links to the right - couldn't have written better myself, and so haven't tried.

I take it all back

Ooh. England 4 Croatia 1. I take it all back. And there’s a very nice calm Welshman there to keep an eye on things too. Maybe we can do physics after all.

I saw the stars last night

I saw the stars last night. Briefly. This was the first time I’ve seen the stars for some time. That’s partly because I had given up looking up, only to see endless cloud. And because if you look up when it’s raining, the rain runs into your eyes. But yesterday it stopped raining. You could walk up the street at your own pace. Look in shop windows. Speak to people in the street. And then last night; stars.

8.25am. The radio is on. The weather. Rain in Scotland and Northern Ireland; dry elsewhere. Grey rain is once again sheeting across the garden, even though I am not in Scotland or Northern Ireland. The radio has switched to Geneva, where the Big Bang machine is about to be switched on. Many have predicted the end of the world as a result of this very biggest of scientific experiments, trying to recreate conditions at the beginning of creation. What’s more worrying is that there are British scientists involved, drawn from a nation that cannot recreate the conditions necessary to have a winning national football team. Should we be worried? I am suddenly reminded of the figure of Arthur Dent, in his dressing gown, enjoying a nice cup of tea, and finding the Vogon ship ready to destroy Earth.

8.30am. Machine is on. Tea is poured. Everyone waits. Nothing happens.

8.40am. Champagne is poured in Geneva. Cheering and applause. Outside is still there. I’m still here so I’ll have a second cup of tea.

Don't sweat the small stuff

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full? They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous “yes.”

The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things–your family, your health, your children, your friends, your favorite passions–things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. “The pebbles are the other things that matter not quite so much, like your job, your house, your car.

“The sand is everything else–the small stuff. If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.
“The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. There will always be time to clean the house, and fix the gutter. Take care of the “golf balls” first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented. The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of beers.”