Things Old Christians Remember (Last Time)

I think this will probably be the last time I post on this because I am struggling to think of things now. There are of course a few bits and pieces.
Faith Teas - this was deliberately unplanned because it was an exercise in faith after all and God would make sure that we all brought different things. He didn't.
Street Witness / Theatre/ Door to Door To this day I cannot believe that I stood on Bolton Precinct doing the "I am the Devil" sketch or that I knocked on complete strangers' doors asking them if they wanted to be a friend of Jesus. I don't suppose it is the concept I dislike (although I have no time personally for uninvited people who knock on my door during Pointless) so much as how absolutely useless I was at it. I would be sick with nerves all day before and not much better after. I was a rubbish actor which is weird because I have done some speaking and enjoyed that. There used to be a sort of unspoken blackmail that said only the most spiritual people could do these things. Ha! My favourite ever door to door night was when I was paired with the man who was eventually to be Head of House and we went to the newsagents, bought a big bag of Maltesers and spent the evening sitting on a wall debating the best Woody Allen film ever made.
Sinners Bucket. HOH wanted me to write about this although I didn't ever see it. You were supposed to bring things like records, cigarettes, alcohol and other wrong things and leave them in a bucket at the front of the church. HOH says he would just like to say thank you to whoever it was in 1986 who brought the Marvin Gaye album because he had been looking for it for months. (This is possibly an urban myth. Possibly)
Washing up after the Sunday night meeting. I know lots of people will still do this now but it is one of my fondest church memories. Various members of the youth group would wash up after the coffee had been served on a Sunday night. We all got on really well and had a whale of a time. I laughed until snot came down my nose. Serving isn't always sacrifice to be frank.

Thank you for all your responses to these posts. It has been really lovely to remember all this and although much has changed for the better, there is very little in my Christian past that I would alter. Except possibly to utterly refuse to do the "I am the Devil" sketch.

Perceptions

Matthew 6:30
“If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you?

As usual, here in the South West, the tourists have gone, the children are back at school and the Indian summer begins. We were visited by some northern folk this week who have been saying how lucky they were with the weather. I think not. This week is always sunny. Odd but true. We went out for tea which is a rare treat and sat outside by the harbour. All very lovely and I enjoyed my meal very much. It was only after it arrived that I realised that I had ordered exactly the same meal (chicken in cream sauce) that I had eaten for tea the day before. I am so predictable.

FOW2 has started 6th form this week and has had to go back to homework so that means less chance of walking into the house at 5pm to find her watching some ridiculous programme on channel Zog or something. For the uninitiated, there is usually a woman interviewing some poor girl or stalking that woman from Steps about either their weight/looks/talent (or lack of it) or reduced family circumstances. There then follows 40 minutes in which a so called "expert" signs her up for plastic surgery or a diet of cauliflower and tissues soaked in orange juice. After six weeks of this when the victim is too woozy to complain, they usually get some fashionista  in, who has the air of someone who cannot believe that they are getting away with this. This expert then dresses them up in clothes that would make your cat laugh, tells them that they are beautiful and launches the poor girl out into an unsuspecting world. No wonder our perceptions of ourselves are all over the place.
This week HOH and I had to go to hospital for me to be re-measured for a new prosthesis. (Or Boob in a Box as we like to call it.) Since my skirmish with breast cancer all those years ago I have a kind of pathological distaste for being messed around with physically, especially by people I hardly know. No touchy unless I say so is my motto. Because of this, I have put off re-measuring for far too long and the aforementioned false booble is now looking very much worse for wear. We turned up to hospital. HOH is always my wing-man on these trips. He takes no nonsense - especially from bossy medical people. (Probably because it takes one to know one) So I went in for the fitting and was introduced to a very nice lady called Mandy who asked to have a look at my rubber booble. There was a moments embarrassment as I tried to surreptitiously remove a bit of sticking plaster that I was using to cover up a bit of it that had split but she pretended not to notice so that was ok. Unfortunately, as it was so old, we couldn't see what size it was. before you go for a fitting you are supposed to go and get your bra size professionally decided on at M&S or somewhere. Well that was never going to happen (see reasoning above) so I just read out my bra size from my own bra. The size for this bra came from my own very loose calculations which assumed that I had put on quite a bit of weight and was veering towards hefferdom. Mandy frowned a bit and did a bit of complicated measuring. then produced a bra and prosthesis for me. It fitted perfectly and lo and behold when I turned sideways - I had a rack! Mandy gently broke it to me that (a) my back size is four inches smaller than I had given her and (b) My boob size is 3 sizes bigger! It's a win-win!

So you are wondering, after all this unpleasantness why I am sharing this with you. It's because once again I find out that I always fall into the same trap.Too many times I assume the worst about myself - not just physically as here but spiritually and as a person. If in doubt, it is sometimes so easy to look at ourselves and veer towards the negative and shrink into ourselves. I am aware of how imperfect I am before God but he looks at me (and you mate) and points at us and says "Ooh she's lovely she is. Lovely enough to rescue and love and encourage and do great things with." We simply have to get hold of this and get confident enough to harvest fields, change worlds, challenge injustice and throw our shoulders back admiring our lovely contours.

Elbow Room

Hullo. Man, I've been ill. Only a cold but good grief - a shocker. Thank you so much for your encouraging remarks and wishes. Kept trying to get past it but body absolutely refused. Legs went from under me in shower (unattractive), kept falling asleep all the time and then finding myself crying a bit. I am known for this at Hargreaves Towers. I am very rarely ill but when I am, I lose my sense of perspective and can get a bit depressed. (You probably can't hear everyone I have ever met shouting A BIT?) I have unstinting respect for those who cope with ongoing illnesses. Watching lots of Paralympic stuff this week like most people, I am obviously and quite properly awestruck at the things I am seeing. However, I have to tell you that I am equally impressed by people with debilitating life conditions who get up, get going every morning and manage to function with a reasonable amount of positivity. This level of stick-ability is as least as admirable to me as a washboard stomach.
Anyway, think I am on the right side of it now. My arms and legs still feel like lead and I am prone to the occasional bout of sudden coughing which makes the little dog peg into the garden with horror but am definitely getting there.
The offspring have returned from camp with the usual interesting suitcases. Sometimes, when I feel a bit intimidated by the thought of heaven, I look at how the kids are when they return from these things and think it might well be fine (Don't tell me you don't get a bit scared by Heaven sometimes. Especially when people say it will be like one long Sunday service.)
One brilliant story. One of the younger kids is Romanian and his grasp of English isn't perfect. However FOW1 was happy to help him when he came up and asked
"Excuse me. Where is the toilet?"
That was fine, except that was day four!!?! What had been happening up until then? Don't think about it. I'm trying not to.
I have been rooting around my Bible a bit as usual. (When I'm ill I like to look up - "This is sickness is not unto Death." - #encouragement) I just wanted to tell you this. It has helped and challenged me. I did tell you that I was working on the concept of thankfulness after reading Ann Voskamp's book. One of the things thankfulness does for me is that it puts pauses in my life. It stops me going off on one. I know someone (not me for once) who, when bad things happen sort of howls "Oh noooo God why are you doing this to me?" as a sort of immediate response. In a way that is a natural response but it jumps too quickly to complaint mode for me and if I start complaining I am liable never to stop. I am trying to train myself to pause, so that when things happen, I take a breath, then think.

1. Is it likely that God wants to kill me?
2. If not is it more likely that God is on my side?
3. What are my evidences in my life when God had most certainly been on my side?
4. Say thanks for these evidences
5. Take logical next step which means that same God will invoke same process of listening and intervening, spurred on by his inexplicable love for me and pray sensibly and thankfully rather than in hysterically whingey voice.

What I think that this can do is provide God with elbow room. I know that he is God and doesn't need elbow room -don't write to the Baptist Union. I mean elbow room to work with me. A pause for him to ask me a question, to point something out or even to re-position things. I'm not saying that all things then immediately fall into place but it seems to be saving me a lot of worry. Rather than thinking "Well what if this is disastrous and God doesn't help?" I am trying to move to "Before you panic too much, remember what God has done for you. He may well be happy to do even more."

On a sadder note. Hal David has died. So many lovely lyrics to chose from. This is just about my favourite piece though it'a close run thing. "The moment I wake up. before I put on my make-up. I say a little prayer for you." Just perfect. HOH and I argue about whether we sing lead or backing on this when we join in when no one is listening. I always sing backing which shows how humble I am. He sings Aretha's part. You can draw your own conclusions about his humility.

Anyway, have to go. Back to work tomorrow. Time and Tide and the Ring and Ride bus wait for no-one. (Well the bus does obviously otherwise no-one could get on and off it but you get my drift.)

Miserable Crow

Can I just apologise? I know I haven't said anything yet but I find it saves time. The photo is my nose. My piggin' nose. The nose it is a block-ed. The eyes they are a-running. The throat it is a-killing. I have a cold and it makes me a miserable crow. I hate having a cold. I hate being ill. I suppose no one likes being ill (although thinking about the way some people carry on when they are ill - I suspect they secretly enjoy it) See. There I am, being horrible. Get used to it. There may be a lot of it in this blob er.. blog.

I'm just annoyed that's all. I had such plans for the weekend. Kids are off at youth camp. HOH at work. I get two days to myself to do housework and potter about. I had a lovely blog in my head about something God had shown me in the Bible. Do a bit of baking. Maybe meander off to church this evening. Pah! Yesterday I barely had enough energy to mope about and today, when left to my own devices I fell asleep. Rubbish! And to make matters worse. Tomorrow is Bank Holiday. HOH has the day off from the hospital. He never gets Bank Holidays. Never! He has tomorrow. The kids are away, we have the day to ourselves and I AM ILL. ('scuse capitals) 

And to make matters even worse I have been on the Twitter account of one of those women who are Super Christians  You know the sort. They are making every second count for the Kingdom. They are permanently productive. Never tired. Full time ministry, kids, husband not an ounce of fat on her. Bet she doesn't fall asleep for a whole afternoon.

And to make matters even more worse (I know, I know) I am not at Greenbelt again and all Christianity seems to be there and it looks dead interesting - if a little muddy - and last year we talked about going and we haven't and it's making me annoyed.

And, as if I haven't suffered enough, I intended to do some writing this weekend and I tried a bit but it was rubbish so I stopped. 

Anyway, before you all run from the room screaming. I finished reading One Thousand Gifts by Anne Voskamp this week. To be totally honest, I enjoyed the concept more than the book really and I thought that before I started being horrible. She is so lovely and thoughtful and gracious and I struggled to get on her wavelength, which is entirely my fault, I am sure. Part of the idea of the book is that you start to notice everyday blessings in your life and so develop a natural culture of gratitude. I flung another sodden tissue to the ground and decided to give it a go. After 15 minutes, I had come up with two and one of those was, "I suppose I'm not dead yet" so it didn't go too well initially. So, I had a brew and some chocolate. (Kate. Can I just say your cold cure "A Mars Bar and hot coffee" does not work at all. Haven't had a Mars Bar in years. More comforting than a Lem-Sip though, I can tell you) I tried again and did better. I am nowhere near the thousand mark but thought I would share a couple.

First gratitude point. Watched Parade's End. Of course, was in no way influenced by the presence of Mr Cumberbatch. I was very taken by it though. First thing is how much beauty was on show. The houses, the landscapes, Rebecca Hall was wonderful and stole every scene she was in. Adelaide Clemens as Valentine was, quite simply, luminous.   There was more comedy than I expected. The scene on the golf course was great and Roger Allam's Colonel, who at one point got out of a car in full military regalia for no reason at all as far as I could see, was brilliant.

The language is as dense as fog and I needed to pay attention. Sometimes I wasn't entirely sure what was going on (No idea why Anne-Marie Duff was snogging The Cumberbatch's companion twenty seconds after meeting him for instance) I do have a feeling though that it will be ever so slightly wonderful.

Second gratitude point. Fruit of Womb Two got the results she needed for sixth form. Probably wrong to boast but she did very well indeed. As you can see - her brother is thrilled for her. They are very close.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I am not an idiot and I do know that I have a lot to be thankful for. If you can find it in your heart to come back again next time when normal service should have been resumed, I will be eternally grateful. 

Things Old Christians Remember (3)

Etsy.com

The hat. Now memories are very subjective and mine are very much my own about this. But when I was a lass, hats in church were more or less compulsory. There were always a few brave souls who were willing to tell you about how they had been freed from this tyranny but I was only 14 and no-one was listening to me.

Allaboutyou.com

I hated it though. I really did. Firstly because my suspicion was that for some women it was not so much covering their glory as showing what a big hat they had.
Secondly, and if I am honest, more importantly for me, they interfered in the Farrah Flick that I was cultivating - big time. It was a pain spending hours with a dryer and curling tongs and then giving yourself lung disease with hair lacquer only for it to go all flat under a hat - and it made my head itch. So I asked my Mum to knit me a hat. A head covering if you will. So she took up her knitting needles and after much deliberation produced a hat. It was a small woolly skull cap. It fitted on the back of my head, allowing the Farrah Flick to flick unencumbered and yet, I was still wearing a hat. People will say with some justification that this went against the spirit of the hat wearing rules. But it was still a hat. Definitely a hat. It was soooo small though. In fact, I was reminded about this when I saw this photo. It was about this small, I think.

So when I see my daughter going to church, sometimes voluntarily putting on a nice beret. It can cross my mind to lecture her about the change in women's place in the church. Then I think about the hat I wore and think that i should keep my mouth shut.

Back to Life etc etc

We are back from our holidays and a good time was had by all, except possibly our bank account. I do love Center Parcs, as I believe I may have said before but £45 for a takeaway for four is a little steep n'est pas? However, we enjoyed ourselves and the weather was lovely. We all think that this will be the last time we would do this type of a holiday as a family. The kids are a bit old for it now. (I personally am WAY too old for the bikes. My more delicate parts may never recover. Can I say that? Will look it up)
Still. it was very lovely. Fave bits included: walking out for an early morning coffee with Head of House before anyone was up, going for manicure with daughter which was administered by a lovely girl who was straight out of a Victoria Wood sketch, going bowling on the night Mo Farrah won his gold medal leaving the whole bowling alley in uproar and sitting out, late at night, swaddled in blankets, playing 15 addictions. (This is where you go round the table and everyone had to come up with 15 things they really, really like. Excellent game.) These are times that stay forever.
Then we moved on to the three day relations visit. Quite tiring - being nice for three whole days but all went well I think. We went to the Trafford Centre, which was like the third circle of hell for me but I suppose it takes all sorts. It certainly attracts all sorts. There are people that you can smell the money on as they waft into the champagne bar at Selfridges. (Fair play though. If I had champagne at 11am, I would probably fall asleep at the bar within 20 minutes) There are also some scary people who have tattoos and multiple piercings as well as the Olympic Rings shaved into their heads. Their husbands are quite intimidating too. These people usually have more Selfridges bags than the minted people. Isn't life interesting? Maybe I have changed and gone a bit Plymouth and seasidy. I don't know but it was certainly hard work in there. Judge not lest ye be judged and all that! Many thanks to all who put us up (and put up with us) and fed us and made brews for us. Apologies to all those we didn't get around to. Especially because we didn't manage to visit our old church this time.

So now we're back. From outer space etc etc. The house looks like we have just moved in. The ironing is frightening. I need to get stuff ready for work. It is very important that I spend Saturday catching up on everything I need to do. Soooo, we thought blow all that and we went to Flavour fest. Flavour fest is Plymouth's annual food festival. Ignoring the torrential rain (you know that could be Plymouth's motto this year - they could out it on a shield or a statue of Francis Drake or something. Believe it has not been much better elsewhere.) As I was saying - ignoring the torrential rain HOH and I wandered round the lovely food market buying stuff we wouldn't ever usually shell out for. Please find a photo of our haul above. This includes: cheese scones, fruit scones, salmon and rocket fish cakes, crab cakes, potted mackerel, pork pies and home made piccalilli  Unfortunately, the cheese straw didn't make it to the photo as HOH was peckish.I didn't partake in the food that I fancied most because I have been brought up not to eat in the street as it is common apparently. This means that I had to walk away from a battered mackerel barm with tartar sauce. When St Peter calls my name and I am waiting for them to put the duvet cover on my heavenly bed. Hopefully, I will be handed a battered mackerel barm cake to munch on while I wait. Heavenly indeed.
Now I really do have to go and get some work done. Kids are off to Youth Camp on Saturday. FOW 1 is going as a leader this time. He is not that kindly disposed to young teenagers as a rule, so that should be interesting. Pray for him. Well pray for them actually.
Anyway. back in the saddle. Rest was much needed. If we need a rest, we should take it. Constant tiredness makes me ineffective, miserable and a general pain. God rested and Jesus recommended it. Must be good then.

Jesus said, "Come off by yourselves; lets take a break and get a little rest"

Things Old Christians Remember (2)

Flannel Boards (Source Etsy.com)
When I taught Sunday School the preferred method was the flannel board. Well to be completely honest - it was what you used if you hadn't prepared anything. It was a sort of fuzzy felt stick-on Bible story. I could never get the hang of it. Everyone in the stories was always turned slightly sideways for some reason and at least one figure would never stay stuck on. I had quite a struggle with John the Baptist I seem to remember. Then I could never get the perspective right, so Noah was always bigger than the ark he was going to fit all his family and all the animals on, which probably confused quite a few littlies. You had to be careful if you were using them with older children. I remember an unfortunate incident at Sunshine Corner with what we used to call "unchurched kids". I had turned my back for a second, only to find that Mary Magdalene and an un-named disciple had been moved into an "interesting" position. Pretty soon I felt the need to be a bit more creative - although not always entirely successfully. (My attempt to illustrate turning water into wine by using water and carefully hidden cochineal in the bottom of a jar worked a little too well. Younger members of the church were very impressed and rumours began among the children that I may have had special powers) I wouldn't be surprised to learn that flannel boards have come a long way and are very successfully used now by teachers with more flair than I ever had. However, reading about Summer Clubs and Church camps on the excellent Tracing Rainbows Blog and also seeing what goes on for children at my own church makes me want to wag a finger and say "You don't know you're born."

Lets squeeze this lemon!

Pinching my title from the GREAT Siobhan in "Twenty Twelve". It would seem churlish not to write about the Olympics after so much good stuff. For me the best bits so far are
a) Anything won on water - particularly the white water canoeing. As someone who is scared of water, I have full admiration for anyone who has enough presence of  mind to keep paddling at great speed when the temptation must surely be to burst into tears and cry "I don't like it!" until someone comes and rescues you.
b) All the cycling medals. It's really fast isn't it? And high up!
c) Mo Farrah. That's a really long way to run without a sit-down.
d) Andy Murray. To come back so soon to the place where you had lost and then win so well was such a great thing.
e) Gymnastics - that looks like it could hurt quite a lot.

Lots of other things have been great - the beauty of the stadium at night, Ian Thorpe, lovely Becky Adlington, Radio 5 Live's cycling coverage (outstanding Simon Brotherton), singing God Save The Queen, just saying the words "pommel horse" - the list goes on.
One of the strongest themes that I have picked up from the post event interviews with the athletes was the constant appearance of the words "sacrifice" and "discipline". People saying that everything they had given up or all the hard work that they had done was worth it. It's all a bit old fashioned maybe and a bit negative but it does seem that all this glory doesn't seem to come without sorting yourself out. Like my old mother used to say (or would do if I asked - I'm sure) "Nothing comes of Nothing. " (Actually just realised that's Shakespeare. King Lear. Look it up. hah!) If we are looking to achieve anything of worth then it seems that regular "keeping going" and not giving up is the order of the day.

On a slightly sadder note Bob Babbitt died last week. HOH and son have been in mourning for seven days. You may not know the name but you will almost certainly have heard his work. He was the bass player on zillions of Motown hits including - Signed Sealed Delivered, Tears of a Clown and Ball of Confusion. He suffered I think sometimes by playing at the same time as James Jamerson who was routinely called "The Greatest Bass Player of All Time." Yet Babbitt's attitude was lovely - eyes filling up with tears when he talked about how wonderful Jamerson was to him and how he was his mentor. Even though Jamerson's problems with drink and drugs must have made him a nightmare sometimes. Lovely man. Great talent.

I have to go now - I have a birthday cake to finish. FOW1 is nineteen today! Nineteen! Both Hargreaves Towers males have had birthdays this week. Expensive times. HOH had a new turntable. (Still plays vinyl. Says it sounds better) FOW1 had some kind of pedal for his bass that makes what I have called "wow-wow" noises  This has produced much derision. I am not respected in my own home. Still - at least they are cheap dates. Head of House and myself had civilised breakfast overlooking Plymouth Sound last week - see above (nice round here innit?) and FOW1 went out with chums yesterday so tonight we are staying in, eating Chinese and watching Th'Olympics. It is not my job to entertain everyone you know! Even you lot! Have a great week.

Things Old Christians Remember (1)

Before the days of Songpro there was the OHP. But before the technical wizardry of the OHP and its operators, (who were highly skilled people who had learned not to put the acetate on back to front at least seven times out of ten) there was the Redemption Hymnal and its partner - the yellow chorus book.  The big skill we all developed was singing the verse reading from the hymn book and then whipping it under your arm for the jiggy chorus so we could clap. We knew how to funky it up

Branagh Bond Bean

Source:The Independent

Like 27 million other in the UK, we were glued to the Olympic Opening Ceremony on Friday. Most of the comments seem to be in favour of the event except for a few strange people who seem to be offended by references to the NHS. If all 27 million viewers of this event in this country were lined up and everyone who had benefited from the NHS in some form or another was asked to put their hands up there would be very few people without their hands in the air don't you think?
I thought I might share a sort of Twitter like running commentary of the event as it played out Chez Hargreaves Towers. It's quite long but, rest assured, not as long as the athletes parade.

Family are settling down and introductory film begins. FOW2 whoops - "It's Benedict Cumberbatch!" Even though there is no sign of Martin Freeman the evening is looking very promising already.

Frank Turner entertains the crowd much to the delight of FOW 2. I am concerned that she may be peaking too soon.

The stadium looks magnificent with animals and children and peasants and things. A short film plays with every British cultural reference you could think of, backed by an equally cool soundtrack. As I suspected, it seems it was always a good idea to put someone from the North West of England in charge of this.

The largest bell in Europe is rung by a mod who turns out to be Bradley Wiggins. HOH informs us that Mr Wiggins lives just outside Wigan. rest of family struggle to understand relevance of this to anything at all really. Wiggo (as he is winningly nicknamed) leaves as quickly as possible looking like a man who would rather be back on his bike.

A young boy sings Jerusalem. I burst into tears.

Rather handsome man in very high top hat, strolls through what is now turning into a bleak industrial landscape. He puffs his chest out and begins to recite from "The Tempest" It's Kenneth Branagh! (He looks a lot better than he did when I last saw him. He was playing Wallander and appeared to be wiping his armpit with a lace curtain) Now he is Brunell, the great engineer. And he's reciting Shakespeare! Without looking at the words in his book once! FOW2 is fanning herself gently.

There are now too many cultural references to count - Suffragettes, Windrush, Sergeant Pepper, Chelsea Pensioners, Jarrow Crusade. The whole thing is looking like a sort of test film to be shown to people applying for British Citizenship. How many of these very British things can you name? FOW 1 has to be dissuaded from singing "The Red Flag" As Golden Olympic Rings are hoisted into the air I can feel my bottom lip wobbling. A pattern is definitely emerging here.

Then Daniel Craig - in Bond mode takes the Queen of England to the stadium in a helicopter from which she appears to parachute into her seat. Am astonished. Do the cartoon thing of polishing my glasses and checking the screen. She NEVER does anything like this. NEVER. Did Gin O Clock help? Who knows but well done your Maj.

National Anthem is sung by deaf choir of children who sign it beautifully. I burst into tears again.


A lovely tribute to the NHS is now the centre of lots of great moments. These include dancing doctors and nurses (real ones mind you), Voldemort, The Child Catcher, beautiful JK Rowling reading from Peter Pan and children bouncing on their beds as flying Mary Poppinses chase away the monsters. As Good Christian Men rejoice plays I fill up again. Children point at me and laugh. HOH passes me loo roll to deal with copious tears.Family are also questioning the wisdom of FOW1 putting "Stick that in your cake hole Mitt Romney!"  on Facebook. He ignores us, does it anyway and gets 142 "likes"

Rowan Atkinson is then very funny as Mr Bean, which is a sentence I never thought I would write.

There is then a sort of "yoof" section which is a great excuse for us to show the world that British people have written all the greatest pop songs EVER and remind then that Bowie, the Beatles, The Stones, The Sex Pistols, Amy Winehouse et all are well-you guessed it-BRITISH. Hah! As offspring are arguing about relative merits of above we get to see Tim Berners-Lee, the inventor of the world wide web. And British people are your actual geniuses as well! Am now getting quite jingoistic and enquire from children about how to send direct message to Mitt Romney. Children sensibly inform me that they have no idea and quietly move my phone away from me.

David Beckham. Suit. Torch. Speedboat. Enough said.

A tribute to those no longer with us as thousands of beloved family photos flash on screen. Emily Sande sings Abide With Me while beautiful dancers dance their beautiful dance. Beautiful hymn. Beautifully sung. HOH takes loo roll from me as we both sniffle.

Athletes parade. Lasts forever. Pour wine. Eat nuts. Amuse ourselves by trying to spot imaginary countries marching in - Narnia, Tatooine, Allezoop. Mood is also lightened by spotting German dignitary apparently Nazi saluting their team. Does not look like high five to me. Spot Charles and Camilla in fits of giggles. Feel this is not unrelated. GB team come in. High level cheering. Spot Tom Daley. Cry again.

Arctic Monkeys play. FOW2 has to lie on the floor.

Beautiful Olympic cauldron  is lit by young luscious unknown athletes. Brilliant! Am only slightly disappointed that it is not  Harry Potter shouting "LUMOS"

Paul McCartney rocks "Hey Jude" Am fearing for FOW2's health now.

And that is it. My favourite quote is from Danny Boyle. "I don't believe in God but I believe in the people who do. This is their show, they really are the best of us." And when I see how much of our heritage and history rests on the people of God, I can feel big dobby tears welling up again.

Microscope

I sit down to do this sometimes and I begin to panic. This has been a "meh" week. Nothing to tell you I don't think apart from apparently finding a dead dog in the back garden. (Morecambe is very keen on lying in the sun) But, one of the advantages of doing this is that I have to say to myself - "Think again - you have to write something. Forsooth, your people cannot survive without you!" (Ha! If only. I have been watching too much Shakespeare probably)

Sooo although, I know that basically, all I did was go to work and the like - didn't even finish reading a book - I am bringing you highlights from a boring person's week.

1. We booked our holiday. We are going retro this year with Center Parcs after the offspring requested it. We are aware that they may not want to come with us many more times. If you haven't been to Center Parcs recently, it is now practically a million pounds a minute so we are combining it with a trip up northern parts to impose ourselves on various relatives and friends. Center Parcs now offers a tree-house experience (I think there is a staircase but the prospect of me getting into a tree-house, possibly by rope ladder, kept my family laughing for what seemed like several hours - rude) The tree house option is about £2700 for a weekend. You can do New York for that! It was also sold out. (Not that we were considering it.)

2. Fruit of Womb 2 made it safely back from a "gig" in Exeter. Some band called "Howler" or "Moaner" or something. Don't think they have troubled the upper reaches of what used to be called "The Hit Parade". Still, she seemed to enjoy it and they signed a record for her so that was very nice.

3. Have made it up two levels on LEGO Batman. I don't think this is suitable for 3 year olds. It seems very difficult to me. It took me twenty minutes to get Batman out of the Batmobile at one point and then I couldn't find my way back to the Batcave. These LEGO people are fiends.

4. Head of House and I had a nice conversation with someone we hadn't seen for a while. For complicated reasons, it could have been quite difficult. It wasn't. God is very good at this sort of thing.

5. Morecambe is now up to date with his injections. It was traumatic of course - as you know he hates the vet. He did have 20mg of tranquilizer but his adrenalin levels were so high it made no difference. Still, once they had wrapped a blanket around his head and wrestled him to the ground, they managed to get the job done. Although his nerves meant that he had quite a trumpy bottom during the procedure. (Morecambe - not the vet.) HOH said he hoped no one lit a match. I wasn't there of course. I'm a much too sensitive soul for all that kind of thing.

6. Friday night was a rare Friday when everyone was home. Telly was rubbish so we switched it off and while having a drink and munching crisps we sat around and chatted and had an excellent time. Topics ranged from Bob Dylan to Youth Group Charades (Apparently FOW1 remembers spending 45 minutes trying to guess who one of the group had seen outside. The answer was "A Tree Goddess." - it's a long story.) It wasn't exactly an intellectual evening but I enjoyed it.

These are the tiny stitches in the embroidery of my life. They may not tear up any trees or get me interviewed by Fearne Cotton but they make me who I am. When I squint my eyes and look at this embroidery very closely, I think it looks very lovely indeed and I am very grateful.

PS. Family did go to Batman movie this week. It was about half an hour too long but to be honest - in view of this weekend's events in America, I don't really feel like reviewing it much anyway.