Full confession - I love reality TV. Not the TV where people of no discernible talent, usually from a disadvantaged background are encouraged to perform like dancing monkeys for our entertainment. You know the kind of thing I'm sure. No, I really love the kind of show where people take their passion, which they have been developing for some time and work with professionals and mentors - kind of in competition but usually with a heartwarming team spirit. At the moment I am setting the Betamax for The Great Pottery Throwdown and The Big Painting Challenge. I really like the people hosting them - Sara Cox is from Bolton and therefore untouchable and the Reverend Richard Coles is a bona fide National Treasure. Also in there is Mariella Frostrup who makes the men in my house emit a strange noise when she begins to speak. I love these and, if the Bake Off became a bit overhyped last year, I still hope that they manage to salvage something of its lovely warmth, wherever it ends up.
But - hold the phone! I read this week that my favourite - The Great British Sewing Bee, has not been recommissioned yet. This is unacceptable. I love Claudia on this. I love the way men and women come together to sew things they will never wear. This is British TV at its absolute zenith. It also shows you how skewed my priorities are. It took me a couple of days to get round to signing the petitions about refugees but when one came round about the Sewing Bee - I was on it like a shot. As the highly competent new President of the USA would say. Sad.
We have been away, Now we are back. The undeniable climax to Aged Parent's 80th birthday celebrations was a return to her northern roots - for a few days at least. With the dog safely ensconced at home with FOW1 for a few days, we climbed into the car and began the five hour trundle to Bolton. We were a bit worried about Aged Parent in the leg department - what with the Arthritis and everything but we found that liberal application of Tramadol sorted all that out. (Please don't write to Age Concern. It has all been legitimately prescribed)
I may or may not have mentioned that Aged Parent has a sister. She is a few years older than AP but otherwise a carbon copy of her. It is, I think, written somewhere in Leviticus, that two such similar people, when left in close proximity to each other for a few days will inevitably clash. This will always happen - no matter how much they adore one another. We dropped Aged Parent off with Aged Sister and went off to meet some very nice friends. When we returned the next day, it appeared that they had been re-enacting the film "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane." There was a great deal of moaning and groaning about each other - most of it though was under-breath grumbling so neither of them could hear the other one doing it. We had arrived to take Aged Parent to our old church, giving her the opportunity to meet some friends. We were all taken aback when Aged Sister - who has never shown any interest in Christianity - announced that she thought she would like to come as well.
We arrived at church with Bette Davis and Joan Crawford in tow and were warmly greeted at the door by the dreaded words - "How lovely to see you. You know it's the Youth Service don't you?" For the uninitiated - the Youth Service involves flashing lights, driving beats, jumping up and down and high-fiving - all the while informing ourselves and each other how awesome we all are. It's fine and dandy for young people. Not so much for two octogenarians , who sat at the back wondering what was going on. Still, it gave Aged Sister something to think about.
The next few days were taken up with meeting friends and relatives (see above) which they seemed to enjoy and constant bickering which they also seemed to enjoy.
Anyway, when we set off home and it occurred to them both that they may not see each other anytime soon - they promptly burst into tears. Which was nice. As for me and HOH we planned in a cheeky little trip to Ikea on the way back. It all was, as the young people say, win, win.
I am not a natural book reviewer. If I like it I will come on here and say so. If I don't I will probably wap it in the bin and we will never speak of it again. I'm not very good at being negative about people's hard work so I just tend to be quiet. I also know that book reviews do not seem to set my blog alight with traffic so I may be just writing this for me. Hey Ho.
This is a very good book. (I could end this here to be frank but I won't) I'm pretty sure that I have said on here before that Unapologetic - Francis Spufford's book on his Christianity is one of the books that has influenced me most in this part of my Christian life (as in old and haggard). So I have been interested in anything he has written. However, this is not a Christian book. It is fiction - set in New York before the revolution. It is a rattling good read. If you are like me and a bit slow on the uptake, the pace and the language can take a bit of getting used to. It is set in 1746 and the language reflects that. Once I got the hang of it though, it fairly races along. There are some great set-pieces - a chase along rooftops, a duel and a really effective piece set in the theatre. The hero is handsome, mysterious and made for a movie adaptation. (I suggest Tom Hardy if anyone cares) There is a heartbreaking death and a final scene that made me almost want to stand up and cheer which would have been unfortunate as I was in bed at the time. It is a fantastic book.
I am a fairly independent kind of person. I can drive a car, I can iron a reasonably straight line in my trousers, I can boil an egg perfectly. (That last one is a lie) I was reading something quite nasty on the Internet about how Christians are a bit pathetic - leaning as they need to on a God who insists on being top dog and in charge all the time. I thought about it for a while because it is true - we do. Why would a reasonably grown up person like me be happy with this kind of arrangement? It's a fair question I think.
When I see the statement above, it makes me comforted, secure, in safe hands. It doesn't make me feel as if I am in some kind of abusive relationship.
Mainly it's about the kind of God that God is. I'm from the north - we are sharp as tacks - I wouldn't choose to worship any old god type entity. To belong to God is to belong to someone who always has my best interests at heart. It is to be a part of something where someone who always gets it right, invites me in to see how it is done. It is to draw alongside something so beyond my normal comprehension that things happen that I would never expect. It is to see an impossibly high standard set for me with no condemnation when I fail. Then there is the love. This God loves me. This God loves me without cause. This God loved me enough to send his son to die for me. I owe this God an immeasurable debt, yet the only repayment he asks is that I allow him to set me free.
So you have a point when you say that I am subservient. I do look in awe and worship. But it is a truth that we all worship - something or other - money, power, popularity even (heaven help us) clean eating. Christians get to worship someone whose position of God in the relationship gives us comfort, security and surprisingly, a chance to be ourselves - free as birds. Strange how that works isn't it?
To York on Friday to see FOW1 get some more letters after his name. It is such a lovely ceremony, even if your son - shown here as the humongously tall person, only takes ten seconds to get his award and you spend the next half hour clapping a lot of Chinese people from the business school. There was one very good speech from someone getting an honorary degree. I'm sorry - I didn't get his name - he used to be on Time Team. (At this point FOW1 points out, quite testily, that, like most people on Time Team, he is also a distinguished academic with lots of important discoveries to his name. This is in case any of us were thinking that he was just an eccentric man with a trowel) Anyway - this gentleman didn't find out that he was a good writer or TV person until he was in his late fifties. It's encouraging I think, for those who feel that they are knocking on a bit and are yet to hit their mark in life.
Then off to Kings Manor for a reception for the Archaeology Masters students and their families. This is always very nice but standing around balancing nibbles and a glass of wine while making small talk will always be my idea of a nightmare. Last time we did this, the sandwiches they gave out may well have been the reason that I spent most of the evening in the bathroom so I resolved to stick to a little piece of cake. However the food police seemed to have got there first and there was only fruit for afters. The thought of trying to hold a sophisticated conversation with a professor whilst holding a glass of wine in one hand and eating a banana with the other was almost enough to finish me. FOW1 is now working through thoughts about PHDs or work etc.
We then shook off the students and spent a lovely evening at the panto. It's quite a famous panto - very traditional and lovely. It's the kind of panto where you sing along to words as they come down on a screen and they read out dedications for the audience. It's also very funny.
Anyway, a lovely weekend which almost made the six hour drive feel easy. Almost. We are back up North in a couple of weeks to take Aged Parent to the land of her birth for a few days. This is to celebrate her 80th birthday. We won't actually be seeing her on her birthday because she has had a better offer which is fair enough.
Parent They are holding a party for me here, with a few drinks and niggles
Me Niggles??
Parent *Exasperated at my ignorance* It's what Rose calls those things on sticks!!
Me WILL YOU PUT YOUR HEARING AID IN! Please
