Selma

To the pictures to see Selma. Cannot recommend enough. Really cannot. David Oyelowo is outstanding as Martin Luther King. But then everyone is outstanding - Tom Wilkinson as President Johnson, Tim Roth as George Wallace. (Brits playing the 3 pivotal roles funnily enough) There is a lot of guff talked about "important films" but this is very important. It's not always an easy watch, containing as it does the violent attacks on the marches from Selma to Montgomery to demand the vote, but it is a fantastic film. 

There has been some controversy about the lack of Oscar nominations for this movie. I really cannot understand why the Academy has ignored it. On top of it having an outstanding central performance, in a way it was also one of America's finest hours. I don't mean the violence and intimidation against black people but the fact that, in the end, most Americans were so horrfied by the violence that they saw on screen, that the legislation was passed and all blocks removed to black people voting. They didn't ignore what was happening. 
Of course it was complicated and messy and good things came out of polital expediency almost accidentally and no-one got to wear the knight in shinning amour suit but things did change. The references to Ferguson at the end of the film are a reminder of how far everyone still has to go but this is a great film about a great cause. In my humble opinion, you need to go and see it.  

And in other news..

I sometimes think that this is a bit of a boring blog compared to some others I read. I don't have a theme like money-saving or make up, I'm not a pastor or a pastor's wife or anything so I can't show you that lifestyle and I'm not a particularly deep thinker so I can't really challenge you on where my brain has gone today. This means that, sometimes, I do struggle with what to write, so in the absence of any real news this is what has gone on this week.

Great excitement as we attracted our first sparrow to the bird feeder. Unfortunately there is no photo as, as soon as I saw it, I jumped up and down with excitement and it flew away. Am hoping it has gone to tell its friends. (About the abundance of seed - not the madwoman) For those of you who don't have problems getting lots of birds into your garden. This is Plymouth. Most birds round here are seagulls with huge wingspans and more interested in your fish and chips than a few pathetic seeds. My friend is having more joy with his bird feeder - he is putting meat and potato pie on it though.

Have booked tickets for daughter and myself to go to Cardiff to see Caitlin Moran, one of my daughter's favourite authors. For those of you who don't know her she is very funny and very, very potty mouthed. FOW2 is concerned that I will stand up and shout "That is too far young lady!" while pointing at the stage. I almost certainly won't.

Supporting my theory that I will always look like I have been cleaning out caravans when I run into someone I haven't seen for a while, this morning I popped to the Co-op with my hair sticking up like Billy Whizz in the Beano and I ran into someone I hadn't seen for at least five years! No really, I know I am prone to slight exaggeration but I counted and it is probably more than five years. What is that about? Why do I not "just run into"  anyone when I am fragrant and coiffed? Probably because the proportion of time when I am fragant and coiffed is much lower than the proportion of time when I am er... not.

FOW2 has been offered a place at Exeter University from September. She is doing English with Film Studies (one year in France because she is geniunely very keen on French Film) She was very excited to hear that her brother was going to see Breathless - or À bout de souffle to give it its proper name,  at York University's Film Society. Unfortunately she was a bit disappointed when I received a message from him saying "That French Film - 3 words - Emperor's New Clothes. Just Rubbish. I only went because Jack said that there would be loads of good looking girls there and he was lying" Not everyone will share our passions I suppose.

Tonight's Towards Belief meeting is about "Religious Violence" which sounds nice and cheery. Am looking forward to a lot of talk about the Crusades which I refuse to be held responsible for and Northern Ireland which I also barely understand. I do not expect to be much help tonight.

This was the news from Martha Towers. Thank you for reading.

Courage To Speak

 

This is in my kitchen - ignore it - couldn't think of a suitable photo.

God wants us to grow up, to know the whole truth and tell it in love—like Christ in everything

Ephesians 4

I think I have always sort of avoided speaking the truth in love. Mainly because, in my limited experience growing up as a Christian, it seemed to be a big excuse for some people to be quite horrible to you and then tag on the end "I'm saying this in love" I am also a bit of a coward who is bad at confrontation so that's another reason I avoid it. However, I got myself in a bit of a pickle this week by not pulling someone up on something they should have been doing (or not doing in this case). This had been going on for a quite a while and I had kept quiet about it (partly because it was a troublesome time for the person in question) and then I kind of lost it a bit resulting in me being pulled up for over-reacting. After I had got over my massive sense of the injustice of it all, I thought a bit about speaking truth in love. Not all of this is positive and scattered with Christian Fairy Dust. 

• To speak the truth takes courage. Sometimes we try and avoid doing it because it will often cause confrontation. It will need you to gird your loins or loin your girds (I can never remember which)
• To speak in love does not mean you can say what you want and then tag "I am speaking in love" at the end as if it justifies all the bile you have just dished out. You say what is true as you see it - always thinking of the other person and the effect this is having.
• It is not a bully's charter.
• It is not permission for someone to bully you.
• Sometimes it is essential even though it is unpleasant. It is like spraying spiritual Febreeze into a situation (or opening a window if you live in our house - air freshener makes me cough) It prevents build up of quiet, muttering misunderstandings. It stops silent bad feeling breeding quietly in a dark corner.
• As Ephesians says - you have to be grown up to know the whole truth. Always be awake to the possibility that your perception of the truth may not be the whole story. This is where the telling it in love comes in. Makes it more balanced and puts the tellee first. 
• Sometimes it is a very pleasant thing, it is you telling someone something good about themselves motivated by love for them rather than you getting on their good side.

Am feeling bit better about this now - just putting it into practice is the killer. Another weird Christian cliche - "I love you in the Lord" - what's that about? No  - I'm leaving it.

This Girl Can

This is really good. Don't you think this is really good? I think this is is really good.

Shop

To church on Friday to help with a clothes swap thing. The idea being to raise money to send a team to Nepal so that they can dig a well or buy text books or some other good and life affirming thing that makes me lie on my face in bed and question what I am doing with my life. All went very well I think. Plenty of money raised. Everything was a pound or you could pay more. I ended up paying more for two bags I'm not sure that I like very much. (Although the red one is not as scary as the lighting makes out and the Cath Kidtson still had its label on and is therefore "a bargain") I am now aware that retail is another thing that I cannot do as the following shows.

I am very bad at making small talk with potential customers. I really have no idea if that suits you or not. Look at me - do I show any signs of having any idea of what looks good on a person? 

I have no patience. If I think it unlikely that we have that top in a size 20 - I am unlikely to come with you to have a look. I feel that life is too short.

The clothes are there for people to look at. It is not acceptable for me to want to cry because someone has just shaken that jumper out for the umpteenth time after I have carefully folded it - again.

It is ABSOLUTELY not acceptable to snigger behind the clothes rail with someone because a generous person has brought a basque in. My trouble is I have lived too sheltered a life. I expect someone, somewhere looks really good in it. Hopefully the weather warms up a  bit for you.

Retail is quite tiring I have found. 

Believing

I took part in this on Monday. I don't know if you have heard of it. I haven't found many people that have; although I am not helping with that because I keep calling it "Beyond Belief".  It is a series of discussions after watching a DVD which is supposed to break down barriers to faith. The DVD is full of talking heads, most of whom are what I suppose you would term Christian Intellectuals (whatever one of those is) Then you all have a chat with the people in your group - some of whom are not Christians about what you have just seen. It's sort of like Alpha but without the pasta bake at the beginning. I'm not sure yet if I prefer it to Alpha. It certainly covers meaty topics - suffering, religious violence, is the Bible true? Also the coffee is better than Alpha but I liked Alpha as well so we shall see. 
It always surprises me how open people are who come to these things. I suppose you would have to be fairly interested in faith to turn out on a freezing cold Monday night in January but people seem to ask interested and interesting questions, and seemed to be quite untroubled by the fact that I didn't really feel that I could answer any of them satisfactorily. I did enjoy it though, which surprises me because, as you have probably worked out, I am scared of most people so I wouldn't expect me to enjoy this. Anyway. Wolf Hall awaits.

Wolf

BBC

There are lots of times when being culturally a Brit makes me go a bit humm - The Sun's Page 3 scam (showing a breathtaking contempt for women), Mrs Brown's Boys (He seems really nice, I have tried really hard - it doesn't make me laugh. Don't hate me ) and most of the content on Channel 5. Then something comes along and it makes me want to stand up and sing God Save The Queen. (Which I don't mind - I think it's a tune and I am very keen on our Queenie. Prefer Jerusalem if I am pushed though) This is a long drawn out way of saying that Wolf Hall is mercifully very good. 
I LOVED the books. I was a little bit "really - are you sure?" about a screen adaptation and the TV programme is certainly different from the book - it jumps around the timelines like crazy. I am not sure you get the depths of Cromwell quite the same way here but maybe a book is better for that. I read a post by an author saying more or less how sick she was of the Tudors - Tudor This, Henry VIII that and of course she is completely right. Trouble is, this is just a super-duper watch. It rattles along. 
All the women are too pretty. Anne Boleyn, who I understood got by on her French sophistication is just lovely and the so-called mousy Jane Seymour can stop traffic with her looks but there you are. Henry VIII is  - well you can see how he is but I read this week that he was quite hot as a young man so all well there then. Just loved the clever little two minutes with the Mark Smeaton character who is nothing now but will be so significant later. It is also my first time seeing Mark Rylance. I only know him as an actor who plays long weird roles that seem to make other actors sob that they are not worthy but you see him here and you get an idea what all the fuss is about. Course, later on there will be a lot of shouting and sawing of necks etc but I will deal with that as it comes.

Booky

It is a time for reading and quieting. When I can. Here's what I'm reading

• Finished two out of three of my Christmas books India Knight's "Prime" is for ladies of a certain age i.e. me to tell us that we are not dead yet. I disagree with lots of it, written as it is with London sophistication about affairs and dating and breakups but I like the bits about teeth and clothes. I think it is true that when I was young 50 was old. Lots of ladies had cauliflower hair which had been shampooed and set  and you accepted you were going towards the last lap. I don't think it is like that now. It's a good read though.
• Sali Hughes "Pretty Honest" is a guilty pleasure about make-up and skin care and it is really good. (Well I like it) Although it has changed almost nothing about the way I do my stuff (I would faint having to pay that for a moisturiser) it is physically beautiful and a joy to read and if I am rich one day, I would still not spend that much on a moisturiser and I would still think foundation is an unnecessary faff for most of us but I would probably build a really nice lipstick collection.
• I am still dipping in and out of my Nora Ephron Collection and alternating between joy and despair. What a writer she was. I am out of my depth.
• I went a bit off piste with a Christian book and read "We make the road by walking" by Brian McClaren. I shouldn't really have just read it through. It is supposed to be read throughout the year and you are all supposed to link hands and light a candle at the end of each chapter or something. I hardly ever do that, I just keep reading - no self control. BC is a bit controversial in Christian circles for being, as I understand it, a bit wishy washy about things like Heaven and Atonement and Hell and things. Not that you were able to get much of that from his book. It's not what you would call strident and full of opinion. I read with interest about the Virgin Birth, but the whole chapter was about three degrees above useless if you wanted to know what he really thought. Maybe I'm reading the wrong book by him. I at least liked his willingness to look at the Old Testament and the character of God there, which can be a little alarming sometimes. If I am not sure about his explanation of the Bible unfolding as a more complete view of God culminating in Jesus so that the Old Testament is a splintered fraction of him - then at least he is having a go. Lots of Christian leaders seem to ignore it. 
• I am now reading the most up to date Shardlake. They are really good I think - although they have got really gory now. You still have to find out who did it though. I find myself asking Catherine Parr - being married to Henry VIII - what was in it for her? Not getting your head chopped off I suppose.

Feel free to disagree - but I am right

Little photo of my good self and daughter type person trying and failing to get the flash right with the new phone. I did not want a new phone. My old one died. This new one is slowing me down having to keep double checking everything all the time. Pah!

Anyway - side tracked. Bit controversial. Feel free to look away if you are a maiden aunt type.We went to church business meeting this week. In heaven there will be NO business meetings - of this I am certain. Nice mild mannered, Christian people turn into people trying to recreate the Nuremberg Rally. Anyway digression again. 

As per, there was a discussion that I should probably not talk about and to prove that I DO understand the meaning of the word "confidential" actually, I won't. So we are talking and lady says "She is a home maker - as lots of us are" Hmm. What she means by home maker is a female who doesn't go out to work and stays at home to look after the children and the home. It's probably just me but the use of this word in this way does my head in.

I understand why the term was purloined. Women who stayed at home working pretty damn hard sweetie, felt that their labours were not appreciated and they coined a word to describe what they do. The problem is that my smug detector can sometimes rise a bit - especially when the word is used in Christian circles. It's like home making - if it is to be done properly - has to be done by a particular sex in a particular way. I'm afraid I think not, baby. I was a stay at home mum once - both full time and part time and I am very aware that it is an important job often with very little fanfare but homemakers come in all shapes and sizes.

These days I work full time. I have grown up children but I consider myself and my husband to be partnering in home making - both for ourselves and our kids and other people who happen to be passing.

Surely a single person who works to make a nice hospitable home is as valid a homemaker as someone with a fully paid up membership to Mumsnet? Do all good homes have to be defined by having children in them? 

A young couple who work hard outside the home all week and then open their house to the local youth hoards - another kind of home maker.

A single mum who has to take on childcare so she can go out to work to earn money to keep a roof over her baby's head - homemaker.

A mum and her husband who have swapped the traditional roles while she goes out to work and he looks after babies - for whatever reason - may she's just flippin fantastic at her job - still home makers.

A old man who makes his house a place of safety for a couple of kids for whom the word family means only sadness and violence. Home maker.

And, in the words of the Whispers - "The Beat Goes On" There are infinite examples. Let's not allow ourselves to claim any kind of high ground because we have been blessed with a decent chap, some sprogs and a Dyson that clips to the wall. God's ways are not our ways. He places his Grace in the weirdest of places including you and me. 

Things as they are - not as they seem

Frames and feelings fluctuate
These can ne'er thy saviour be
Learn thyself in Christ to see
Then be feelings what they will
Jesus is thy saviour still

John Wesley

We live in turbulent times. Life is overwhelming  - on an international level, people with guns and such a disregard for any human life (including their own) seem to threaten to overtake life. On a national level political debates often feel as if they are done for their own sake rather than to achieve anything of worth. People lie in hospital corridors awaiting attention from beleaguered staff while politicians spend what seems like hours debating how many people should stand behind a podium. On a personal level, so many times we seem to miss it or fail. This week we went to see Into The Woods (It's fine - about 45 minutes too long) and in the film, the princess runs away from the handsome prince saying "It's not quite what I expected" I can sometimes say that about my own Christian life.

Things will not often be as we want them to be - perhaps sometimes for a fleeting moment they are. Sometimes we can feel so low and the way we feel is such a huge part of us it can threaten to engulf us. But the way we feel is not who we are. There is hope.
There are times, I think, when we need to dig deep and remember. Jesus makes a difference. He made a difference to me. He continues to make a difference to me. I am not what I was. I am in Christ. Yes, even me and that makes a difference.Sometimes we need to grab hold of that really hard and hold on very tight

January Thinking

Even Plymouth is cold. Plymouth is rarely cold but cold it is. We have lit the fire as a Sunday treat - it doesn't take much to keep me happy. I think I am even now struggling to come out the other side of Christmas. I was looking forward to some time off but there is so much to do, it isn't really a holiday and then suddenly you are back at work with all that entails. I am not really moaning. Well, I am, a bit. 
We went to church this morning to hear a new PP (Prospective Pastor) speak. He seemed fine but the other one seemed fine to me, as well as the one that I thought was a PP but tuned out to be just a visiting speaker. I thought he was especially fine. I tend not to have much to do with the pastor anyway these days. I am a bit allergic to church leadership sometimes. Anyway - as I said - he seemed fine to me and more experienced and spiritual people will make the decision. All will be well I expect. We were a bit distracted because HOH (that's Head of House - my other half - I think someone asked last week) has hurt his back so he had to sit like Miss Jean Brodie all the way through the meeting.
On top of everything else going on I also had an unexpected meeting with Aged Parent in Primark. (Sometimes I forget she has moved to Plymouth) I have to admit, she didn't have my full attention so I missed the beginning of the story she was sharing. All I remember is suddenly hearing (in a VERY loud voice) "The thing is, I don't fancy him and he doesn't fancy me - we are just friends" I suddenly became aware of too many people too absorbed in Primark's rather fetching range of lime green sweaters while pretending very hard not to listen to aged parent's pronouncements. Without boring you with too much detail - nothing was quite as it sounded so I didn't have to deal with the reality of parental carryings on and therefore spending the rest of my life putting my fingers in my ears and singing God Save The Queen over and over until it goes away. No wonder I am struggling. 
No doubt, I will have my mojo back very soon. Until then, I am off to watch Foyle's War. Is it just me but it all seems very complicated now. What with MI5 and all that. I miss the war - you knew where you were with a dead body pulled out from under an unexploded bomb.

Be Careful Out There

First of all - an apology. I have not been here so I haven't. I have been lurking and reading everything - even if I've been a bit late to the party. Just a lot going on - nothing too troubling. Back to work and it's busy and life and things. Am working hard to get back on an even keel.

I just wanted to say a little bit about Channel 5 and its "Too Fat To Work" programme. These thoughts are in no particular order and I will not be troubling the Pulitzer Prize with the writing here but stick with it. 
Listen, I don't like a shirker and and everyone who can should be working. I really have little insight into these people - they could be serial killers for all I know. I am also the wife of someone who works on a hospital ward and has had struggles with people with obesity - both with the physical weight and the attitude they sometimes have to their own lives - I'll leave that there.

I have to be a bit careful here because I know the people in the film slightly as they are service users where I work and I also had some dealings with the film crew they worked with. Having said that, all I would like to point out is

1. I know a set up when I see it and some things in this programme were not quite as they seemed.
2. Not everyone in the film was able to understand that there may be an agenda here if you know what I mean. 
3. The whole thing was sad and upsetting and doesn't reflect well on anyone - including Channel 5.

That's all I can say really. I would like to rant for twenty minutes but I just wanted to warn you not to accept everything on face value. 

Just also wanted to mention a friend who, in the middle of a long line of trolling of the couple on Facebook, typed in "God Bless Them. I hope they have a long and happy marriage" I love it when Grace intervenes.

It seems extra sad to me that on a day when people in Paris have paid for their journalistic integrity with their lives - other people who also call themselves journalists - can produce this. I am almost calm now. Thank you.

All Present and Correct

Sooo, we did it, we survived Christmas. It was fine. Some really nice days. I dragged all at Martha Towers to the traditional Christmas film at the Plymouth Arts Centre. This year it was ET which none of the offspring had seen (Call yourself a mother?) There was some discord as FOW1 declared that his favourite Christmas film was Die Hard and I felt that this misconception had to be dealt with. However, all was merry and bright and if I was slightly unhappy at having to pay £55 for four ponced up burgers in Ed's Diner afterwards, I kept it to myself for the most part. Other than that, I seem to have spent a lot of time providing lifts for offspring and then waiting for offspring to get back from things. You know how it is.

We had to split Christmas Day as HOH was working on Christmas morning, so presents were done on Christmas Eve which means the arrival of Aged Parent with four bin bags full of Christmas detritus and therefore me working like a Trojan to placate HOH who likes his life quite tidy. Christmas Day was spent in the kitchen more or less. I was quite taken this year with Frugal Queen's assertion that it was just a big roast and that we just just back off and give ourselves less pressure. However, I spent hours in the kitchen and am feeling more and more that Aunt Bessies pre cooked stuff is the way forward in future years. Or a lasagne.

The Carol Service was excellent this year. Lots of carols with a traditional choir. Seems like that's what people want at a Carol Service - to come along and sing lots of carols - who knew? It was good for me though because up to then, I had been a bit like Barry Manilow about Christmas - you know - up, down, trying to get the feeling again. I did wonder briefly if this was the year that we had all finally managed to kill Real Christmas off. What with penguins on buses and Black Friday and adverts pretending to be about the war when really all they want you to do is buy their chocolate. Linking up on the Advent Pause was helpful. I read everyone's blogs and found new people and generally just felt more proper Christmassy with it. 
I'm a bit woo-woo about Facebook, this time of year. It's full of photos of people in their living rooms having a great time at Christmas. It's good for me because I live a long way away from people that I like so I can see them and also I'm quite nosy. However, it crossed my mind that if you were alone or worried or just not having a particularly good time, it might make things a bit worse for you. I say don't be too affected by this kind of thing. Most people are muttering under their breath a lot during the festive period - despite all the #lovemyfamilyatChristmas stuff that is posted. Of course you love your family! Why are you telling me? I have come to the age when I will be quite glad to "see things go back to normal" and I am eyeing Christmas tree with a sort of  - "how well will that burn?" gleam in my eye. Speaking of burning, the photo above is a fantastic present from a friend. It goes by the fire and is full of the odds and ends of old scented candles. So when you light your fire it is easier to get going and you get a nice scent as well. Bob - il est votre oncle as they say. Some people are so creative.

Christmas story. This is there too.

Independent

A sound was heard in Ramah,
    weeping and much lament.
Rachel weeping for her children,
    Rachel refusing all solace,
Her children gone,
    dead and buried.

Isis in Iraq

Advent 3

This week I am

Cancelling tea with the Mayor. Yep that's the kind of high living person I am. I just throw the Mayor to one side because I get a better offer. (Actually, we have a couple of people off work which means that there are literally no phone answerers if I go swanning off. Am hoping Mayor is ok with this. Am thinking that he is as he as already cancelled on me once)

Reporting back on the Paddington movie. It's really good. The spirit of the books is there in all its glory. He's funny and sweet. The Brown family are exactly as they should be and the house they live in is just beautiful in its eccentricity. It is also an unashamed plea for racial tolerance and welcoming strangers into our lives. I don't expect UKIP will be giving out copies of the DVD for Christmas. (Didn't get to see the one about the nun. We weren't sure if we fancied it. The day after we didn't go, it promptly won a big award at a film festival. Of course it did.)

Trying to find a sensible place and then noting down where I am keeping presents. This will hopefully avoid the usual scene of me having to remove all the clothes from my wardrobe on Christmas Eve in a mad panic because 50% of the presents I have been buying are missing. It's never a good time.

Thinking - blow the whole thing and sitting down on Saturday afternoon with some chocolate and watching Hello Dolly. How lovely it is. Am almost not bothered about being found later in kitchen high kicking and singing Put On Your Sunday Clothes.

Attending FOW2s A Level Certificate presentation. Am hoping against hope that it will be as funny as the year they invited a contestant from The Voice to make the presentations. The faces of the Board of Governors as he sang "Your Sex is On Fire" has kept me happy on many a cold night.

Wondering why a elderly man who was drunk as a monkey was trying to shoplift a bottle of suntan lotion. (Bit of a commotion while I was waiting in the Chemist for medication for Aged Parent) I wouldn't have thought there was much call for it at this time of year - even on what I presume is a thriving Black Market in Plymouth. Maybe it was just for the thrill of it. Anyway, I was more unhappy about seeing it replaced straight back on the shelf when the bottle was recovered. It could quite clearly have done with a rinse having been down some rather unsavoury trousers.

Finding out about Advent Candles. I didn't know that each one was supposed to represent anything. (I come from a Christian background where any candle in church is the beginning of a slippery slope) So when we lit ours on Sunday,  I heard that it represented John The Baptist and this was news to me. I like John The Baptist though. A voice in the wilderness. A light in the darkness. In the busy times, in the mess that is in my head, in the darkness that lurks in my thought life, in the sadness of buying a coat for a child in a refugee camp because they have fled their homes with only the clothes on their backs, in the startling realisation that the people we trust to govern us think that we will be ok with torture. During these times it's helpful to remember that God is there - a small light in the darkness sometimes or a still small voice of calm and wisdom. 

Linking up to A Pause in Advent 

This Week

This week I am

• Receiving FOW 1 back into the fold for Christmas -  We are stocked up on Pizzas and toilet paper - we are braced.
• Going to the flicks a couple of times. Off to see Paddington tonight (with my stern "I love Paddington - this had better be good" face on). Then something about a nun on Thursday I think. Will report back.
• Having aged parent round for tea. Remember no onions. Unfortunate consequences for her belly (and for all concerned)
• Spending time struggling to get into cupboards. We have replaced a mattress on a bed but are keeping the old one for a Christmas visitor as the only thing that is wrong with it is that it is a bit saggy in the middle (bit like my good self) Thing is, we have nowhere to keep it so it keeps being left against wardrobes and my big cupboard at the top of the stairs and I keep having to wrestle it to get in anywhere.
• Praying for an early fitting of our blinds. People are getting chairs out and sitting in the road outside our house now to watch us. (Well it feels like it)
• Putting in very chunky amounts of toil at work. All shopping buses and scooters and wheelchairs are choc a block with people trying to get their Christmas stuff done. There is nothing like a determined pensioner on a shopping mission - trust me.
• Being very pleased that HOH was able to mend Joseph in our oldest Nativity set after an unfortunate incident with Morecambe last year. (Or was it Liam? Can't remember) Anyway - at one point we thought we would have to marry Mary off to a shepherd and that would not do at all.
• Looking ruefully at my planning book and wishing I had the time to sit and plan in it - never mind actually DOING the stuff on my to-do list.

It's all going very well - as usual. Carry on.

Pausing For Advent (2)

If only. I am still struggling to pause. I am up to my eyes in various bits and pieces and life etc. Nothing to bother too much about. I am reading all the other blogs and it seems that, for lots of reasons, other people are the same. I will not go gently into that Bah Humbug though. I LOVE Christmas and I will not sink under all the detritus so I don't enjoy it anymore. I am well aware that this one is up to me. We had a guest speaker at church today and he told us that the secret to contentment is a decent dialogue with God - which makes a lot of sense to me. I have to find the time to do it - especially at this time of year. It is up to me to cut back on things where I can. So, here are my Christmas Resolutions. Unconventional I know but that's the way I roll.

1. If I see you every day. Sort of "Hello - nice weekend?" as we sit down at desks opposite each other. Or, if I usually send you a card after you have posted one through my door saying "To all at 22 from all at number 48." because neither of us know each other from Adam - then don't hold your breath for a card from me. Cards this year will be to people who live a long way away, people I need to re-connect with and to my Mother, who takes the size of the card we send her as an indication of the amount of affection she is held in. (Can be tricky when the lady who does her hair once a week has sent a bigger one than me because I went for quality rather then size)

2. I will be making several meals for visitors and on Christmas Day and all that. This is fine. I am looking forward to it. However, know now that the mash will be Marks and Spencer. The pudding will be ready made and Mice Pies will be Mr Kipling. Come to terms with it. I have. It is happening and it is happening in this house.I will probably make my own roast potatoes because I like them best but, have to be honest, there will be a bag of frozen ones in the freezer in case of emergencies.

3. My house will not be a picture of domestic perfection. It has just been through a traumatic time with the windows being replaced and half the front rendering being ripped off. We don't have the new blinds in place yet so getting dressed in the morning is like permanently dressing under a beach towel. If you are coming here to see a beautifully tidy and serene home you are a) barking up the wrong tree completely and don't know me at all and b) Seriously? Why would you do that?

4. I will not be losing that last half stone before Christmas. All my clothes are fitting (more or less) and I reserve the right to seek solace in an emergency bag of cheese and onion crisps if the need arises. 

Good Grief - that feels better.

On a more positive note - everyone else went out this afternoon and I took the opportunity to put some Christmas music and give Hark The Herald Angels some welly in the privacy of my own kitchen. Wow I love that carol. Top Notch.

Linking Up at A Pause in Advent

Advent First Sunday

This is our hallway - last year. Because I haven't put any decorations up. Not yet. We couldn't if we wanted to but we don't want to. Not yet. We have just had the windows replaced, as well as the rendering on the front of the house. I am all of a kerfuffle. I have lost three weeks of my life to dust, unplugged phone lines and wi-fi, scaffolding and big spiders. I am barely back in the habit of having regular showers - let alone Christmas Decorations. And it's TOO EARLY! I am downcast by Black Friday - watching people who fought last year in Tesco's car park for a 28 inch telly, now coming back and fighting again for a 40 inch telly because the Internet tells them that they have to. Bah!
I am bad tempered, tired with little positive to say about Christmas and I love Christmas. According to the You Tube people - this week is Jingle Week enabling me to buy my Christmas clothes and make-up. Hah! Well you know what you can do with that.
Yet, in the middle of all this, there is just a tiny hint. Something is stirring. Think of the Wise Men. They had maybe spent years and years studying astrological charts, watching the skies and reading the stars. Looking to make sure that they had got it right - that a king - a promised Messiah was on the way. Maybe they just noticed a few subtle changes in the skies, before they ever saw THE star.
Just thinking about Mary, alone and quiet - rubbing her belly and thinking and wondering what was to come. In the middle of the madness that has so successfully claimed Christmas, I'm trying to stop and look at the skies. I'm wondering how it felt, if it felt any different at all, in those moments, just before the miracle, when God's great rescue plan began to move into action. And I want to claim it back. I want Christmas to be about the baby who would be Saviour and before it all starts, I want to quietly take my time and think about what is to come.

Linking up with Tracing Rainbows - A Pause in Advent 

The Heretic

Can I just bung in a review for this book? I was given this, not to review but just by someone who thought I would like it and I really did. Set in 1536 when burning or horrific executions were waiting for anyone who held convictions contrary to the state view, it is just a rattling good read. There is a lot going on here. There's a big picture which will appeal to people who like Wolf Hall and the Sansom books and then there is a smaller, more intimate picture of family and friends during the time.The author also manages to weave in the changes and challenges to the Christian faith without it being, well a bit obvious. I think the idea was to tell a good story, really well and job done. Highly recommended

Dreams of Another Life

We found this photo of my mum. It was lurking under the bed and she came across it trying to find a photo of me as a child for some dreadful fund-raising thing we were doing at work. She looks really great I think - a bit of Munroe in there? So we rescued it from under the bed and it's on our wall now (that's why it's a bit wobbly sorry because all our family photos are on the wall going upstairs and I had to risk life and limb leaning over a banister to get it) Mum has total recall of the day this was taken, at work (notice the typewriter she is leaning on) and it's probably over 50 years ago. It makes her a bit wobbly looking at this because she was full of hopes and dreams in those days and she is not sure that too many of them came to pass. Although she produced me - how good can it get, I ask you? Still, she has seen a nasty divorce and the death of a child as well as her other child being seriously ill. It has not been a barrel of laughs. She is finding more contentment these days though. Settled in a flat near us, she like the area and is forging new friendships and although she is loath to admit it, is perhaps more settled than she has been for years. She still likes a moan and is robust in her criticism of nearly everyone (mainly me though) but in the main I think she is doing ok.
What she has never lost and what an inveterate conflict avoider like me has never had, is the ability to tell it how she sees it.


Mum (sitting on her settee with her chum)
I think Eileen and George (residents in her building) may have something going on
Chum
Yes indeed, I have seen them linking arms and the like. (Do not get involved in what "the like" could be - I find it best not to)
Mum
She's a lot older than him - it's a bit strange if you ask me
Chum
I knew her first husband you know, if he'd have had both his legs, he would have never have looked at her.
Me (interjecting to try desperately to inject some positivity into the conversation)
She's a very handsome woman though

There then follows five seconds silence while Mum with furrowed eyebrows considers this.
Mum
Are we talking about the same woman?

Mr Turner

Well, this was unexpected. I really liked this. I mean really, really. Possibly one of the best films I have seen this year. We went on a day off which seenmed to be a pensioners' day out. They were giving out lists of future performances for the seniors club but HOH said I wasn't allowed to get one. I thought that was a missed opportunity for HOH. He would get a cheap ticket and a cup of tea and biscuit.
 Despite the stellar reviews I wasn't expecting that much from this film really. I sometimes really like Mike Leigh and sometimes I really don't. His thing about Gilbert and Sullivan was one of the few films I have ever walked out on (I have probably only ever left about five films early in my whole life - unless you include "Love Actually" which I left mentally by falling asleep about two thirds of the way through -  a mercy for all concerned) The Gilbert and Sullivan film antipathy could have been because I don't really get G and S although I realise that they are the very air that some people breathe. I remember in my twenties going with a friend to her new fiance's house for celebratory drinks and someone - apparently unbidden stepped up to the piano and gave us all a rendition of a G and S number. It was all deeply unnerving. I was partly worried because I thought the same might be expected of all of us and I remember wondering if my version of Wham's Last Christmas was going to cut it. Digressing.
However, would recommend this. Firstly, it is beautiful. Just lovely to look at. Secondly, it seems to capture it's time and place perfectly. Thirdly Timothy Spall is just amazing. Turner seemed to me to be complex, sometimes heartless, sometimes kind, always immersed in his work and Spall makes him a human.You don't need to know about painting or anything. Just go. It's very good.

Giving Up

So, I have given up a bit and brought this home. Just to look at, you understand. Not to actually do anything with. It's just helpful, to be thinking about it - a bit.

Not Forgetting

There has been a lot of talk about the Tower Poppies and whether they are appropriate and what to do with them after Remembrance Day. Just to throw my two penneth in. I think they are dignified, beautiful and very moving. However, not as moving as the four million people who have taken the time to come and see them and remember. Surely, that is their prime purpose - not to be pretty or ugly or whatever. Just to make people stop and remember. For what it's worth, I also think they should be dismantled. They are not a tourist attraction. It is the shock that stirs the soul. So many. Would this not become diluted over time?
Anyway just for today, a poem from the beautiful Siegfried Sassoon. Remembrance. Gratitude. Yet not to forget what we are grateful for and the horror of it from someone who earned the right to tell us what he thought.

I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.

The Dufflecoat Years

When I was a teenage Christian, many things were different. Tambourines were de-rigueur, choruses were found in a yellow book and the youth meeting consisted of telling you lots of things NOT to do. If you were a female type person, chief among the no-nos was make-up, short skirts and dangly jewellery - for this way sinfulness and unavoidable lusts would follow. Although I kind of understood the thinking behind this (well, no I didn't actually but in those days, it wasn't really done to ask) -  for someone like me, who had a bit of a hankering for lip gloss and love beads, it was a challenging time. Men were men and girls wore dufflecoats. When I left school and began to earn a bit of money I led a mini rebellion by coming to church wearing blue mascara and a skirt above my knee. Most of my rebellion got in under the wire because the senior leaders were too busy dealing with a bohemian girl who had joined the youth group and encouraged the menfolk to indulge a little too freely in the "community" aspect of church - especially with her. This she managed to do without the aid of make up or short skirts. By the time she had been dealt with (most successfully by someone's wife with a pointy finger and various "non-Christian" threats) the whole of youth womanhood at our church, had run wild and was unabashedly wearing perfume. The genie was out of the bottle.
So when I look around now and see young women in church with hair straightened within an inch of its life, beautiful cat like eye liner flicks that make them look like Nigella and heels that are not doing the church floorboards any good, it makes me smile. I am glad that the old tyranny has gone and girls no longer have to sacrifice eyebrow plucking and person hygiene for Jesus. EXCEPT (and you knew that there was an "except" unless you are new here) I hope that we haven't gone too far and replaced an old tyranny with a new one. I am very keen on the church being a place of safety. The concept is very precious to me even though it can be as rare as hen's teeth to actually see it in action. I hope that girls who don't want to partake in high level personal grooming feel free not to do so. I hope that church is a place where females can feel free to be themselves whether that involves wearing lip liner or just a bin liner.

Simple Things Making Me Happy

So we have a new freezer for overspill (Please ignore bottle of wine. It is not, as the nasty rumour goes, a spare freezer for Mummy's Wine.  I had forgotten to put it in the fridge and we were on a deadline) I remember a time when the most exciting present I could get was a nice piece of underwear or some interesting jewellery. It is probably a very sad day as I realise just how excited I am by the arrival of the freezer. I am officially a sad, old crone.

I have also finished my patchwork cushion. It's very nice and everything but NEVER AGAIN! It has taken longer than the Bayeux Tapestry.  I am a woman who loves a quick win when it comes to craft. If I ever do patchwork again it will be with MUCH bigger hexagons.
Made some little chocolate cake (I can't bear the name "cupcakes", Makes me think of lifestyle bloggers sitting in front of log fires pretending they are actually going to eat the food they are posing with) You might be surprised how life affirming a little cake becomes with the addition of a little Munchie sweet in the middle before it goes in the oven. No photos sorry - all woofed down.
I may not get out much but I certainly know how to keep myself happy at home. Simple soul that I am.

Keeping hold

Sometimes it's hard to hold on to your joy. Sometimes people do things with the best motives but they do your head in. Sometimes those things nibble at the vision that you feel God has given you almost to the point where you don't really know if you want to carry on with it.

Things to do to hold on to whatever it is God has said to you
 

1.  Kind of in the way that The Beastie Boys advised you to "Fight For Your Right..To Paaarty" you may need to pitch in and fight for what you believe to be right. (In a totally non confrontational, Christiany  way obvs)
2. Keep doing the right things. Stick to the plan. If this thing was worth doing before, it still continues to be so, however disillusioned you may feel.
3. You are not going anywhere Jesus hasn't been before. People were always telling him he was doing it wrong. He wasn't.
4. Ask yourself if "The Advice" you have received has any truth in it. If there is something you can learn, you must learn from it. If possible without learning through gritted teeth and muttering about "know-it-alls" (even if they are)
5. Resove to be graceful if you know you are right. God has little time for gloaters who shout "Oh yeah! Oh yeah" while dancing and pointing in accusing way to the person who you have overcome.
6. Smile like Morecambe. It will sort itself. This will pass. Get on with the job in hand.

Feminism?

I don't think I would call myself what is sometimes charmingly referred to as a "rabid feminist".  (Although I would say you are a lady feminist if you are female and vote, or expect the same pay for doing the same job as a man, or expect your name to go on the mortgage if you pay into it or indeed expect that if your husband decides he would rather live with the chambermaid, you do not expect to be turned out into the cold without a possession or any of your children) Anyway I digress. It's just that something that happened this week that made me think - would it happen to a man?

There has been a post circulating on Facebook this week called "Her name was Reeva Steencamp" This is because in all the shouting about Oscar Pistorious and whether he did or whether he didn't and the debates about the effect it was all having on his life and his career etc etc - some reports haven't even mentioned her name. Some just call her his girlfriend or a lingerie model. Anyway her name was Reeva - Reeva Steencamp. The piece about her is here if you are interested. 

On a lighter but connected note. Can I just say that I have always liked Daniel Radcliffe? I haven't been too impressed by many of his films since his Harry Potter days to be honest but he's young and he will develop. He has almost made it on to the list of people who it would be acceptable for our daughter to bring home with a view to marriage. Almost but not quite but still a creditable try with this.

In case you can't read it, he picks up on a reporter who says he struggles to regard him as handsome after having watched him grow up in Harry Potter. Radcliffe replies that men do not seem to be having the same problem with Emma Watson. As I say, creditable sentiments and he came quite close to getting on the acceptable suitor list but Head of House has vetoed him - because I put in a vote for Roy Keane but that has also been deemed unacceptable. Honestly, young people these days.

Sparse

HOH has been out in the garden, cutting stuff back, pulling stuff up, digging things over. Our back yard doesn't exactly look dead glamorous at the moment. It suits my mood. It's ages off Christmas, a grand summer has come and gone, because we are saving for aforementioned Christmas and double glazing, we are skint. Everyone is working really hard with nothing much else going on. 
Do you think though, that this may be a healthy attitude? If your life is abundant all the time as Kim Kardashian and some tele-evangelists would have it, then do you forget how to celebrate during the special times? If there is no paring back and scarcity then surely you become clogged up and bloated. If we take our cue from nature which benefits from land that lies quiet and fallow for a while, then we should expect there to be quiet times, poorer times and slow times. I get annoyed with people in T'Internet who gabble on about how much they love Autumn and when you look further into it, it's because the new coats are out at Primark or because Yankee Candles have a half price offer on their "Fallen Leaves" range. They then post photos of themselves from a jaunty angle with a full make up face pretending to kick up leaves while not actually letting any leaves touch their new boots.
That isn't Autumn for me. There are lovely colours of course but they are the colours of nature drawing a veil, battening down the hatches and preparing for what is to come. That's not as bad as it sounds. We can, if we want to, slow down a bit. We can read a bit more, sleep a bit more. We can give more attention to our inner lives. Pray a bit more and don't be afraid to not be as busy. It is truly ok I think to let things go and be a bit less for a while. Trust me - Christmas will be here soon enough. Close your eyes and you can almost hear the sound of the Marks and Spencer adverts.

Reality Bites

For reasons that are too complicated to bother you with here, I have just spent a weekend dipping in and out of the X Factor and Strictly. As regular readers will know, I am more inclined to one rather than the other of these. FOW2 and my good self have just joined Strictly. I usually like to give it a bit of time to bed in and also, I do think that it goes on for an awfully long time these days. There at least thirty eight couples in the starting line up. There has been a bit of a hoo-ha today because Thom has been sent home and he is a reasonable dancer. The thing is, I don't get up too worked up about who goes though on Strictly. It's all a bit of a gamble. The public can be quite weird and will vote for people that they take a fancy to for no other reason than they just like the cut of their jib. I don't think the best dancer has won Strictly for years. The thing is that it doesn't really matter because the pros and the slebs are already in the game. They have "Showbiz"  careers (even if some may be a bit more successful than others) they know the game. They understood how it might be when they started and when they go they go back to slogging away at whatever branch of showbiz they have come from. (Again, some more successfully than others)
I find the X Factor more troubling. For a start, some of them look like children. When did we start lining children up and then rejecting them for our personal delectation and delight? Also, when they are rejected, they don't return to panto or Gardeners Question time or whatever. Most of them go back to the sausage factory from whence they came. Even winning the thing seems to be the kiss of death as far as I can see. I don't like it. I try to because, at this time of year, not liking the X Factor can leave me feeling very much alone but I can't. Also, can I just say, a lot of the singers are just rubbish? Is that acceptable? I watched some lad last night do things to "Try A Little Tenderness" that would have got him arrested in seven states in America. Also I'm pretty certain that the lyric is "shabby dress". NOT "SHAGGY DRESS" Good Grief.

Grim Up North

Look - you knew we would be going to see this. If you have spent more than 15 seconds looking at this blog you will know that HOH spent much of his twenties chasing Northern Soul venues around the country, buying records and looking for somewhere to dance to them. 

So this film was eagerly awaited here by at least a proportion of the inhabitants of Martha Towers. First of all I have to refer to the cinema we had to go to to watch the film because it was on a limited release. I have never been there before. I will not fight to go there again. There was enough of that going on in the foyer as far as I could see. I don't think I have ever been scared at the flicks before (unless you take into account how I felt when I realised that Tom Cruise's Cocktail had another hour to go before we were mercifully released) We stood in a queue with a lot of other slightly ageing soul type people, many of whom were on sticks or had dodgy backs (probably because of all that backdropping) while about a hundred drunk, grubby hipster/biker types pushed past us to get to their film. Well it felt like a hundred to me. I have no idea what they were seeing. I don't think that it was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. 
Inside the cinema, things did not improve. I did not know that they made screens that small. HOH had to wear glasses to see the film. The hygiene was not what you would call top notch. The toilets were actually in the room we watched the film from - raising the unedifying possibility of flushing and other noises during quiet moments. Also, I think I was sitting in something sticky. I don't know. I didn't look and my jeans went straight into the wash. Bijou vintage it was not.

To the film then. You would probably only see this if you knew what it was about, if you get my drift. If you love the music or remember the scene, you will like this. The scenes in the dance hall were fantastic, the best I have seen. It was truly exhilarating and I would have liked to see more of them. There were some great little moments where people were learning to dance and just going for it. Lisa Stansfield shouting "I were right shown up today!" in a very broad accent is a happy moment that will stay with me for ages. I think you can hear a "but" coming. At the risk of sounding like I know what I am talking about, I think it was underwritten. It needed a better script rather than people just saying things to move the story on. You know the kind of thing...

"Whatever you do - don't start injecting drugs - it's a mug's game" Cue toilet scene with needles

"If we get caught with these drugs it's ten years in jail" Thrill to totally unexpected blue flashing siren.

Having said all that, it was beautifully shot - in Bolton, I think a lot of it and it did capture perfectly a northern town in England in the 1970s. Although it was a bit grimmer than I remember it. That's probably because I am sooo much younger than HOH. Yep that will be it.

A Tough Fruit

Galatians 5:22New International Version (NIV)

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness,

These things are known as the Fruit of the Spirit or as the Message calls them - the things that happen when we live God's way. There are some big groovy concepts here. LOVE! JOY! PEACE! These are all huge things that you can spend a lifetime trying to attain and then die having failed miserably. (Joke) (Bad Joke) I got to thinking about one of the fruits which is a bit unassuming looking but may be the most muscular of them all. 

It takes courage to be kind. 

This morning I was absorbed in the newspaper and my other half was staring out of the window. "I'm just going to see Stan - he's just standing in the street." Then HOH disappears out the front door. Stan is our elderly neighbour. He hasn't had a good year health wise but is doing ok now. HOH was just concerned that he might have come over a bit peculiar and wanted to know if he needed help.  HOH is very good at this sort of thing. He just sees something and reacts kindly. As it turned out, Stan was just a bit puffed and didn't need HOH. 
I'm not sure I would have reacted as quickly, not because I don't care but because I lack courage. I think before I put my head over the parapet. What if Stan doesn't want help? What if I'm embarrassed? What if he reacts angrily? (I have never heard Stan react angrily to anything - I didn't say that it was logical did I?)
It takes courage to be kind because kindness can sometimes be perceived as weakness. Choosing not to wipe the floor with someone and giving them another chance can mark you out as someone who can't hack it or someone who is scared of confrontation. 
At the other end of the scale, it takes courage to join an aid convoy to take much needed relief to a war torn country. Kindness there may actually lose you your life in the most horrific of ways.

I suppose like most fruits it grows when it is cultivated. You do it again and again and it becomes easier. It becomes a way of thinking to say the kind, inclusive thing rather than shrink back and agree with the unkind majority.  You begin to learn that it is ok to see if someone needs you or not. These worst thing that can happen is that they can tell you to sling your hook. A while back I came across an elderly lady who was sitting among the dog biscuits in Sainsbury's. After a fair bit of prevaricating I asked if she felt unwell. She said that she was fine thank you and to leave her alone (with added F words to covey to me how strongly she felt) So I did. No harm done. 
And kindness is a Fruit of the Spirit - so God helps us to do it by giving us the desire to help. The Message translates kindness as

a sense of compassion in the heart 

which is really good. Just not always that easy to do.