Instructions

Hallelujah! Thank God! Pray to him by name! Tell everyone you meet what he has done! Sing him songs, belt out hymns, translate his wonders into music! Honor his holy name with Hallelujahs, you who seek God. Live a happy life! Keep your eyes open for God, watch for his works; be alert for signs of his presence. Remember the world of wonders he has made, his miracles, and the verdicts he’s rendered— O seed of Abraham, his servant, O child of Jacob, his chosen.
Psalm 105 The Message

Are you ever surprised by just how much the Bible manages to pack into so few words? Being a bit of a bletherer myself and never using one word when twelve will do, this kind of thing always impresses me. I would never be able to do it. I am very glad that I didn't have to write the Bible (And the cry went up from all the nations - "Aren't we all!") 

I have not had the easiest week ever - Aged Parent at hospital (all well - thanks for asking). The dreaded mammogram. (You know me - I am the health professional's friend - but when a nurse who hasn't bothered to turn round as I enter the room stripped to the waist  says "We'll start with your right side" when I haven't got a right side - I think I have a right to be a bit annoyed) Anyway - to raise the tone. This is like an instruction manual. Just here in these few lines.

Be thankful. Talk to God. Tell people about him. Sing. Sing loudly. Honour him. Choose happiness with him. Look for him. Expect miracles from him. Remember his goodness. Remember his wisdom. Remember you are his. It's a life instruction book. Mad positive and generally all over empowering. You know - if I ever had a tattoo.... (No need to look so panicky Head of House, am just musing)

Flicks

Wikipedia

Just calling in to mention a couple of films we got to see. We went to see Minions - myself and FOW2 and we didn't care. I loved Despicable Me and so there we were. To be honest, it does exactly what it says on the tin. There are Minions, they fall over a lot and shout at each other and that's about it really. There are some laugh out loud bits and Jennifer Saunders does a brilliant turn as an arm-wrestling Queen of England but, to be honest, it's not really for me is it? There was a little person in the seat in front who almost dies of happiness a couple of times and that was almost worth the entrance fee to be honest.

Wikipedia

About as far away from that as it is possible to get is Amy - a documentary about Amy Winehouse. Ah - this is so sad. Most of the news about this has been about how Amy's father is threatening to sue the film-makers for the way he has been portrayed. I'm not surprised - he doesn't come out of it at all well. The problem with his indignation is that you can see him, behaving badly, in front of your own eyes. It's all camera footage, not people giving opinions on his fathering skills. I know it can be manipulated but it is shocking to see him dragging a vulnerable Amy here there and everywhere for his business deals. The kindest thing you can say is that maybe he didn't really understand what was happening to her and how dangerous it was. I think he probably had her best interests at heart - he certainly adored her - as did everyone. 

I have to put my hand up here and say that musically, I am not her biggest fan - too much derivative stuff for me - although she could certainly sing. This is a terrific film. It moving and sad and funny. She comes across as a vulnerable little soul under all the gobbyness, a tiny person physically who just couldn't take all the chemical abuse she put her body through. The most moving moment for me is right at the end when Tony Bennett - one of her all time heroes and a man who was no stranger to a bit of substance abuse in his younger days - said something like - "It's so sad - I wish I could have told her that you learn how to live your life eventually, as you get older." Whenever I see stuff like this where people lose hope and can't find their way back, it does make me think about Jesus and his promise of redemption - in the sense that there is a way back from everything - whatever it is, no pit is too deep. Sometimes it doesn't seem so, I know. 

If you get the chance to see this, please do. I don't suppose it will be on in many places, unlike Minions which will be so ubiquitous it seems like it is showing on the back of your eye. 

Here I Am

Well I am almost too ashamed to turn up again after all this time. It's not an acceptable excuse to say that I have been a bit overwhelmed but tis true so there you are. I have lurked around other people's blogs but that's been about it. The thing is as well, when it comes to blogging, when I don't do it - there's the guilt you see. The laptop stares at me with an air of reproach so that I start avoiding it. This is especially unfortunate because this is where I keep track of the family finances and my tendency not to believe the state of our finances unless I see them with my own eyes, can lead to dangerous levels of spending, based on my mind-fantasy bank balance.

So the main event of the week and it was quite a big main thing, was the graduation of FOW 1 from York University with First Class Honours no less. (Sorry - you had to be told) Of course, those of you with superior geography skills will have noticed that Devon is a long way from York so it is quite a trek to get everyone there. 

Still, what a lovely day. I have never been to anything like that before and found the whole thing quite emotional. Greg Dyke is the chancellor of York Uni so he gave the certificates out. I have decided that I like Greg Dyke. (This will come as a huge relief to him, I am sure) He gave a brilliant no-nonsense speech and encouraged people not to stay in jobs they hated because life is too short. He just managed to qualify this statement in time to stop 50% of the parents in the room handing in their notice. Apparently, this advice was just for the students - pity. Then the whole room fell silent as the sister of a student collected the degree on her behalf. We all knew that it had all got too much for this student and she had taken her own life at the beginning of the final academic year. Maybe, it is the Christian in me that always thinks when I hear of such things, that all things can be sorted or come back from, given time. It is so sad when people lose sight of  this. You feel so much for what she must have been going through and what her family are going through now. It kind of puts everything into perspective.

Later on, FOW1 took us on a route march to King's Manor which is where Archaeology is studied. ("It's not a long walk. I do it all the time." I AM IN NEW SHOES! ) So we stood around and had champagne and wraps with unidentifiable green sort of doughy stuff in them, while I tried to stem the blood coursing out of my heels. Then there were special awards given out. The Most Jolly Person Award (or something like that) went to a pipe smoking, lesbian, C of E girl which was all very nice - academia eh? I shook a few sort of professory people's hands and tried to look clever - not always that easy when you have half a loo roll stuffed down the back of your shoes. But, the sun shone and everyone was very pleasant. He goes back there in September to do a Masters in Digital Heritage (No, me neither) 


Back to work tomorrow. Has to be done but lovely memories of a great day. Hargreaves Towers on Tour for one of the last times maybe. Thankful as always.

Family Matters

Much trauma at Martha Towers. Morecambe is back from the vets having had NINE teeth out. Yes nine. Can't but think it may be our fault somehow. Not sure why - he is bursting with health otherwise. Our bank balance is, however, not doing any kind of bouncing at all. Three hundred and eighty pounds it was. I would have had a bit of a go myself if I had known that. Anyway, all is back to normal now, his poo has returned to a normal colour after having changed to chocolate brown. (Too much information? You only have to say)

FOW1 is back in the bosom of the family again so, for a short time at least, this family is a family of four under the same roof. I have no idea how we made this work four years ago. Perhaps it helps because some people were a lot smaller then. I am sure that once we get the towels on the bathroom floor situation sorted - all will be well, as long as I get myself into the habit of buying all bread, from everywhere, all the time.

Aged Parent came for tea. She came straight from the chiropodist, having used a voucher that we bought her for Mothers' Day. I was earwigging on a conversation she had with FOW 2.

FOW 2 So was it nice having your feet done Nana?

Aged Parent Lovely thank you. She did all my heels and everything. She even offered to put nail polish on but I said no - because I chew my nails and it's not worth it.

Short but significant silence as daughter processes this information

FOW2 I think she meant your toe-nails Nana

Aged Parent (Puzzled) Really? She never said.

Not Our Peace

I was listening to some politician who was talking about the horrible events all over the world last week and he said something like "Don't forget that peace is not a natural state of affairs. Peace has to be worked at and in some cases fought for." It seemed a striking piece of insight from a politician but having looked around a bit (yep, that would be Google then) I found this. 


"The state of peace among men living side by side is not the natural state; the natural state is one of war. This does not always mean open hostilities, but at least an unceasing threat of war. A state of peace, therefore, must be established, for in order to be secured against hostility it is not sufficient that hostilities simply be not committed; and, unless this security is pledged to each by his neighbour (a thing that can occur only in a civil state), each may treat his neighbour, from whom he demands this security, as an enemy." Kant

So, Kant then  - not Liam Fox, either way, there is something here I think. We talk so much about peace and wanting peace yet, at the first opportunity everything seems to collapse into rubble and fighting. This can be on a world stage or in our personal lives. So I was struck by something that Jesus said.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.John 14 v 27

It's probably significant then that when Jesus talks about the peace he gives he says it is nothing like the peace that this world talks about - which seems to be fragile and dependant on circumstances, mood, and whoever is around to take advantage of the vulnerable for money. Jesus is talking about something that only he can leave us because he is different to us, he can do more than us. It is HIS peace, based in him and who he is, thinking more, loving more and we are safe there. He left it with us to give us comfort and we should take comfort from it.

Absence

Apologies for absence. So much going on. I am shot through with admiration for people who manage to blog through life circumstances or when they are just plain busy. Witness Tracing Rainbows gamely blogging on the run in to her daughter's wedding, when she was insanely busy. The advantage, of course, of blogging in this time being that this is a great way to remember great events.

I take a slightly different approach when I am overwhelmed. I pull my knees up under my chin and rock a bit until it goes away. Not so helpful in Aldi, I will give you that. 
So in the spirit of putting great events on the Internet in order to keep a record of great events, I give you, in no particular order...the week past

• The shower broke, I couldn't find the bath plug.(Under my nose the whole time apparently) I was forced to use daughter's Pug-Plug. While I bathed and the pug in the lifebelt bobbed about by my feet, I wondered whether Grace Kelly had ever bathed like this. I decided, probably not. 
• FOW1 got his uni results. He got a First which has made us very proud. He has decided against doing a Masters this year mainly due to lack of funding but also because he might want to do it at another university. Ah, young people. The more sharp witted amongst you will have realised that this meant driving to York to pick him up and bring him and all his possessions back to the bosom of our home. Just to let you know that everything horrific they say about student house is correct and then some. Eight young men in the same house. At least a bad as you would expect.
• We now need to complete arrangements to go back to York again to see him get his scroll thingy. You can go off a place you know.
• We took delivery of a huge bag of relatives from the North. Always a pleasure - never a chore. I did tea for ten on the Saturday, we got back from York. I won't win me any Delia Cook of the Year awards but , everyone seemed to enjoy it and nobody was clutching their belly overnight.
• Went to the pictures. Nothing too deep - Jurassic World. Quite Loud. Very good though, if a bit squelchy in parts. I always feel sorry for the pig they are dangling over the dinosaur pit. Also, as an aside, I think a lot of the unpleasantness of the Jurassic films could be avoided by upping the security checks of the people working in the laboratories. There is always someone in there either selling secrets, combining the wrong genes in a forbidden experiment. Just a bit of advice for you if you are thinking of setting up any kind of genetically modified dinosaur theme park.

Mine

Guardian

Sooo, God and migrants. Any instruction from him or guidance about how we should behave? Possibly this? Ezekiel 47. Bit of a stretch I suppose but it made me think. Do I own where I live? Own it enough to deny the needy access to it? Not so sure I do to be honest.

Divide it up as your inheritance, and include in it the resident aliens who have made themselves at home among you and now have children. Treat them as if they were born there, just like yourselves. They also get an inheritance among the tribes of Israel. In whatever tribe the resident alien lives, there he gets his inheritance. Decree of God, the Master.

Timeless

Example One

Daniel - dealing with Medes, Persians, lions in hungry moods, friends in fiery furnaces, being sold into slavery, eating only water and vegetables, advising kings, being visited by angels, praying with the window open, visions of various apocalypses, fearing for his life, generally not getting much sleep. God sends an angel who tells him

‘Don’t be afraid, friend. Peace. Everything is going to be all right. Take courage. Be strong.’

Example Two

Nearly Martha - dealing with running out of dog food, spending too much time on Youtube, losing plug to bath and having to bathe with Pugplug (above), cancellation of three yearly mammogram because machine is broken, getting house visitor ready, not getting Liam's dollars to him in time for his New York jolly, fat hips not responding to virtual starvation diet, dog going all Stephen King at the window. God shows her something in the Bible that says.


‘Don’t be afraid, friend. Peace. Everything is going to be all right. Take courage. Be strong.’

The Message of God to us - Timeless.

My Twopenneth re Campolo

Tony Campolo.org

So Tony Campolo has come out (as it were) in favour of full acceptance of gay couples. This, I believe, has not been an overnight jumping on the bandwagon but has come after years of seeing his wife work in the gay community and much soul searching. Can I just say....(and I am going to because it is my blog and you can't stop me)

• Tony Campolo is one of the few Christian speakers I have heard that has made me laugh until I cried and then cry properly - both in the same sermon. I don't think I have ever heard anyone speak so convincingly about how much we are loved by God. 
• The vitriol that has come his way - by Christians - is shocking. What on earth is going on there? What about the command that people will know Christ by the way we love each other? (I am not seeing any brackets there that say as long as it is not at the expense of MY theology) I have never seen so many people writing "Open Letters" for which you should read "Public Takedown" Even his title has changed to "The Apostate Tony Campolo" 
• Most of the leaders, that I have read would no more minister to or even recognise a gay person that they would an alien with three heads. I am not sure why they think this gives them the authority to publicly give anyone a good kicking on this subject.
• And it is "leaders" who are having a go. People who have "followers". But where are you leading us? What are you teaching people? To be nasty, to fight in public, to humiliate? It is embarrassing for those of us who live outside the church bubble. Those of us who rub up against people who don't know God, every day of our lives . Do you know what they tell us? They don't say that they see an important theological debate being worked out. They say "Call yourselves full of the love of God?" "I have enough hassle in my own life thank you." or "Flippin heck there are some nasty pieces of work in your religion aren't there?" And yes, I think there are. 
• While these people are on social media being "important" the vast majority of Christians are out there trying to show people the love of God and rubbing the back of people's hands when it is needed - whoever they are. You are not helping and I tell you this, you are losing this argument. The next generation is slipping from you on this - partly because they don't see Christ in this attitude. We always lose when we don't show Christ.

For myself, I am no sure where I am theologically on this and those that know me know that I have personal reasons for working it through.  To be honest, it doesn't keep me awake at night. Worrying about real people does that more. But, I tell you this, after the events of the last few days I have never been more tempted to put on a pink feather boa and dance to Village People.

That's Done Then

I have reached a time in my life when birthdays are something that you smile wanly at as they approach and this an age thing I think. Still, the weekend had some lovely moments to commit to memory. And I will share what I have learnt.

We have eaten out three days running, much in the manner of Henry VIII or someone in that vein. It was very nice but I will be happy to see a vegetable, I'll be honest with you. Also, first time ever I have eaten in Bella Italia without a voucher. Takes the edge off it a bit for me. For I am mean.

SPY is a funny film. No really, it is. A bit more graphic in places than I expected but a good laugh. Even Jude Law.

You may or may not know that I work for a charity providing transport for the disabled and elderly. This is not a normal occurrence but I did spend a proportion of my birthday helping an old lady climb out of her clothes after what we gritty northerners like to call "a bizzy accident" and into a fetching set of tracksuit bottoms and T shirt which I had hurriedly purchased for her at JD Sports. And as I hummed "Happy Birthday To Me" to myself and reflected on God's sense of humour while cleaning out the toilet, I wondered if this was how Kim Kardashian had spent her birthday. I decided probably not.

Mum  I bought you some flowers.

Me     Thank you - they are lovely

Mum  I have had Aldi up this morning. There was a sticker on saying two pounds but when I got to the checkout, the lady said eight pounds. So I said , well I would have never bought them if they were eight pounds but she wouldn't give in so I thought, well I suppose I might as well - so here there are.

Me (slightly squashed) Well they are lovely anyway.

Mum  Well they would have been if they were two pounds.

Dancin'

So this was us, Saturday night - going out dancing! To clarify, HOH was very keen on Northern Soul when he was younger.(Very, Very Keen) Northern Soul, for the uninitiated is dance music rooted in Motown and other, more obscure, very danceable soul music. In the early Seventies, there was a huge movement in the North of England where working class people (Including, unusually lots of men) would go and dance to this music all night. 10pm until 6am usually. The place at the epicentre of this movement was Wigan Casino - not a casino actually - a dance hall (no idea). It became a way of life for disaffected young people including my HOH. Eventually, it all collapsed under the influence of modern music, dodgy dealings by the club owners and accusations of drug taking. (Most of which were true - how else do you think people danced for eight hours straight?) However, what it did leave behind was the music and our house is a place where this music is usually playing somewhere. Consequently, although not involved with the original culture, (much too young) there is a lot of music, I really like and I do know a bit as well. 

When we lived in the North of England, we would go a couple of times a year to reunions. These were now, not the wild events of the early Seventies but rather sweet affairs where people in their fifties would get to dance to the music they loved on a good dance floor with plenty of talcum powder. (helps the feet to slip) and I would get to talk to a lot of interesting people and occasionally dance quietly in a corner.

We were really chuffed when we saw this advertised at the Guildhall. There isn't much Northern Soul round here and so off we went. This time making sure we had a bit of an old lady nap in the afternoon so we weren't too tired. Time catches up with us all you know. 

So the first thing I thought when I went in was, are there paramedics on call? People seemed a lot older and fatter than I remembered (which, of course they are) . There was much less dancing than I remembered - lots of people were standing round the edge of the dance floor just sort of doing actions for a lot of the time. In the olden days, people used to take a change of clothes because the pace was so frenetic. People were still walking in with the traditional holdalls but I'm not that sure that you need to get changed into your Union Jack T Shirt and baggy trousers after two hours of doing Semaphore. I tried to go to the ladies and ended up queueing with some nice women outside the disabled toilet because that was apparently all there was in the lady department. I was informed by a rather too chatty lady that she needed to go because she was in cream trousers and was on her P..... - mimed of course. Why would she think I would want to know that? Anyway - eventually a MAN came out of the toilet. There was some speculation that he might have been doing drugs. Really? At your age? Are you sure?

The biggest disappointment for HOH was the music. Most of it was very modern, which he is not too keen on. AND (this is very important) the turntables were too fast. This meant that Little Anthony (Of Little Anthony and the Imperials, obvs) who has a high voice at the best of times, sounded like Mickey Mouse on helium. Also, vinyl records are very precious things which need to be loved and caressed like a laydee. I thought HOH would faint when a loud scratching noise was followed by a DJ announcing "Sorry, quite a bit of fluff on the stylus there," Had to physically restrain HOH at this point.

So he danced to a few things (no talcum powder allowed, the floor was too expensive) and then suggested we go home. We went out into horizontal rain, and no taxis anywhere. I am not good at hailing cabs, it always seems a bit forward to me. 

He was disappointed of course and you do wonder if there comes a time when it is indeed all over for you. I'm not so sure. Some decent music and a bit of a rest and we will be back one day. Probably

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell

Is anyone else watching this? I am - a bit, sort of. I am not sure if I will stick with it. I'm not sure if I like it. It is based on the novel of the same name and is set in a world where magic is returning to England as part of everyday life. When I say magic, I wouldn't like you to think of David Copperfield floating past the Empire state or even Paul Daniels and the lovely Debbie Magee astonishing us all with card trickery. No this is a much darker sort of thing and I think I am a bit uncomfortable with it.

I am also having a bit of trouble working out what is going on, There seem to be two magicians who are sort of in competition to be accepted in society or something. This is all very well until one of them steps over the mark and brings someone back from the dead and this has "unwanted consequences" These appear to be a man with nails that could do with a severe pruning back, coming in to the resurrected lady's bedroom in the middle of the night and making her dance with a lot of people who look like they are auditioning for an Adam Ant video. Understandably she is beginning to find this a bit wearying and is getting very snappish. 

This week Strange has gone off to war to help Wellington, which seems to me to be cheating a bit. It isn't exactly a fair fight when you conjure up all sorts of stuff to give you the advantage. 

It is, as usual beautifully shot and clothed - if a bit dark but I find it a bit draggy. We discussed whether it is our Christian background that made me uncomfortable with all the magic stuff and I think there may be something in that. All in all, I think I would rather spend an hour with Peter Kay. 

North! And Don't Spare the Horses

So to York to visit archaeology student son and to see Tim Vine at the York Grand Opera House. (These things arranged in order of importance obviously - although Tim Vine was very funny and son was...well not as funny to be brutal)

York played ball and the weather was lovely, so wandering around was a pleasure rather than a chore. The photo above is the entrance King's Manor which is where archaeology is based in York uni - not the worst place in the world to study actually. The Kings mentioned in the title were Henry VIII and Charles I who both stayed there (er..almost certainly) or knew it existed at the very least. Either way, it is a lovely building and the toilets are very clean. I don't think they are for public use (it's not what you know - it's who you know) so don't just wander in - there will probably be a scene.

We had a wander round the shops which was nice for me and tolerated by other members of the group. I had my first ever meal in Nandos and I am able to report that although my lunch was quite mild, spicy rice does indeed make your lips go tingly.

In the afternoon, we had a nice drink by the river. An idyllic type thing. Then we went to see Mad Max at the flicks. What on earth is all that about eh?  No idea. It's supposed to be dystopian and I don't feel able to argue with that. I'm not really complaining - I did enjoy it. You just have to hold tight and get on with it. Very fast and very furious. Don't worry too much about the plot because, unless I am very much mistaken, there isn't one.

Then back to the hotel eat crisps, drink wine and watch the end of the Eurovision Song Contest. I haven't seen it for years and this year, it seemed to consist of everyone shouting "ANYONE BUT RUSSIA" really loudly at the telly. My favourite bit was Nigella giving the British scores. She reminded me of a young Katie Boyle. 

On the way home - had to take in Ikea in Warrington. I LOVE Ikea but we live in Devon so it isn't felt necessary to bless us with a store within the next five years because we are still living in caves and knitting our own cheese. 

And now - now I am pooped. 

24 Years and Counting

Hullo. Just a short note to say today is my 24th wedding anniversary! 24 years! and they said it wouldn't last. No, they did actually say it wouldn't last. HOH had a somewhat undeserved reputation as the church lothario before we married and I was warned off several times by well meaning friends. (Well my Mum's friends actually) If I were feeling that way inclined, I would write a very spiritual post about not judging on other people's opinions but I'm not. So just going to content myself by wondering if my tummy was ever that flat and then off to work. As you do.

Bird

Matt Sewell

You have as little to fear from an undeserved curse as from the dart of a wren or the swoop of a swallow.

Proverbs 26 2

This is clever, really clever. (I know it's in Proverbs and it's Solomon and clever is his thing but it is still striking) I don't spend that much time in Proverbs. I don't find it what you might call upbeat, though I understand the reasons why. I think all knowing God-given wisdom and seeing the world exactly as it is could be a curse as much as a blessing. 

Birds are strange don't you think? Beautiful and strange, almost otherworldly. I do know a man to whom life has maybe not been kind and he keeps parrots. They are his very dear friends and it is a lovely thing to see but I think birds can be scary as well. I live in a city but by the coast. We see plenty of seagulls They are astonishingly beautiful when you get up close. The whitest white contrasts with a lovely flat grey. They are not always popular here, they will take food and they are noisy but I love them and, to be fair, they were here first! I once spent a companionable hour with one in the park while I ate my sandwich. He waited patiently until I had finished and I secretly threw him the last corner (frowned upon round here) and in return I got to surreptitiously glance up now and then and look closely at how lovely he was.

Wrens and swallows are  different though, tiny little scraps of life, darting around. There is a lovely drawing in my bumper book of garden birds. We once had a wren trapped upstairs in the bank where I worked. It was so small yet getting it out was such a task. It was terrified and swooped and dived, making us all jump and run. It felt like havoc had been unleashed. Yet when we eventually got it out - we had been the ones that had done all the damage - thrashing about and running for cover.

Which is why this is so clever. An undeserved curse, a piece of gossip about you. I'm not talking about the more serious things that go on, which need to be dealt with properly - just the day to day slights and nastiness that can hurt so much.  It's horrible and it makes you jump. Not unlike a dive at you from a swallow. But it can't damage you - not really. Not if you keep it in context. If we react badly and it is understandable, I think, when we do, then the damage it does to us can be out of all proportion to the original slight. The old-school instruction may be the best idea. Take it to God. Leave it there. We are God's own. God looks after his own. He will be our shield and defender. Bat it away and get on. 

Buckfastleigh

We spent a lovely Saturday afternoon in Buckfastleigh.We spent an idle hour wandering up the high street. (Bigging it up a bit there, three charity shops, a holistic healing centre and a Boots) HOH and I thought it was lovely and said we could see ourselves retiring here. FOW2 said it reminded her of a Hitchcock movie with a couple of nasty killings and pointed out that no-one else knew that we were there. If we disappeared - how would the police know where to look? This, I suppose, shows the difference in our ages.

Anyway, then we wandered up to Buckfast Abbey. HOH and I spent a good fifteen minutes trying to decide if we had been there before because neither of us could remember. FOW2 looked at us aghast all the way though the conversation and, I think, silently asked God that she would never be like that when she was old. I was determined to see a monk before we left (although apparently it is unacceptable to walk through an abbey singing "And we won't go home until we've seen a monk" to the tune of "Put on your Sunday clothes") 

.
Anyway, we did see one, you can probably just see him in this photo. I know, I know but I'm too shy to be any kind of decent photographer, I would never dream of going up to someone and asking for a photo and I have no idea where the zoom is on the camera. Still, you get the idea - probably.

I had no idea that the abbey was rebuilt having been destroyed after all the unpleasantness with Henry VIII and wasn't actually finished until just before WW2. At first, I was a bit disappointed that we were looking at a comparatively modern building but, as we walked around, I was struck by the enormity of the vision to restore something like this. It really was very impressive. We then sat in the Abbey and listened to a choir practising. Quite lovely. And, as HOH pointed out, although we are not what you would call on the same wavelength, doctrinally with such a high church set-up, both of us felt that we could feel God in the bones of the place. There is a tiny Methodist chapel in the grounds of the Abbey and I wanted to show FOW2 the contrast between the way people worshipped. However, there was a lady doing a bit of  vacuuming and she didn't seem best pleased with us because she seemed to want to do a bit of a tour thing and we weren't too keen. I do understand that but it kind of killed my point abut the non-conformist churches growing up because they were more welcoming to the common man. Anyway FOW2 was very nice about it and said she understood and we went off to the gift shop to buy some sherbet lemons instead.

A bit like May

So, what just happened? It was all sunny and smiley and Morris Dancey and suddenly, it's like November. Is it just in Plymouth? We ventured up to Jennycliffe for a walk on Bank Holiday Monday and the mist was so horrible, we half expected zombies to come lumbering out of it. The mist does that round here, just suddenly drops and it goes dark. I am still not used to it. I was having a chat with an old chappy in the bank queue today at lunch. He said Plymouth sometimes gets its summers a bit too early and then we often get a cold gap before the warm weather comes back again. I can't say I have noticed  but am sure he is right. 

I haven't been in a bank queue for years. I use  a debit card and T'Internet mostly these days. However, My card has been stopped because some charlatan has tried to buy huge amounts of Apple goods on the Internet with it. No idea how they got my details. Fiendish that's what it is. I feel like my right hand is missing with no card. I had to put half my groceries back on the shelf at Sainsbury's because I only had cash - and not enough of it. (Fortunately, I wasn't actually at the till when the horrible truth dawned.)

Anyway, on a lighter note, Plymouth got a pre-election visit from Eddie Izzard. It's not so much the politics he brings but the surprise of perfectly applied lippy and a jaunty scarf to a city packed to the drawstrings with paras and marines. It made me smile. To be honest, it would make your cat laugh.

Out of the house

"Avengers Age of Ultron" by Source. Licensed under Fair use via Wikipedia - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Avengers_Age_of_Ultron.jpg#/media/File:Avengers_Age_of_Ultron.jpg

So it is the girl's birthday and apparently a walk by the harbour followed by jam butties at home in front of the telly isn't good enough so it is off to the flicks followed by an Italian meal. (The young have such sophisticated tastes these days) The price my family pay for an Italian meal out always includes me taking along any vouchers I have and there was one for a second main course for £2.50 which saved us nearly seven quid. Don't look at me like that - I am very subtle about it. No, I am!

Then on to see Avengers - Age of Ultron. I am not what you would call a Marvel aficionado. In fact I take up a seat someone else could use but although I have very little idea what is going on, I did enjoy this.There is a lot of noise - good grief it's noisy. People run on, shout a lot, hit each other with things and then run off. People get to dress in colourful capes and bounce around which was probably not as much fun as it looks. I spent a happy hour trying to decide if Captain America was wearing a wig (On balance I think probably not) FOW1 sent me a text from York complaining that they had got the Red Witch's superpower all wrong. Apparently in the comics she has the power to change probabilities or something. To be fair to the film-makers that doesn't sound as snappy as being able to wave your hands around a lot and make people throw themselves into ponds which was what she was doing a lot of when I saw her.

I think I am alone in the world in finding Robert Downey Jnr a bit annoying in these films but the whole thing overall is good fun and it didn't seem as long as it was (which was nearly three hours)

The best bit though was the trailer for Star Wars - YES STAR WARS EVERYBODY - I love Star Wars . I am too embarrassed to share with you how often I have seen them. (The original three, not George Lucas' attempt to kill off the whole franchise with the next three - although unfortunately, I have seen them quite a few times too) Anyway - a trailer for Star Wars and it looked good as well. It's out at Christmas. Am excited here!

Chasing Francis

Eden

This is a book about a pastor of a mega church who has a crisis of faith. When I first bought it, I thought "Oooh - how honest, there's not many pastors of mega churches who would be brave enough to do that." However, I think I must have misunderstood. It's not a biography - it's a novel i.e.fiction.
I had a bit of a problem with this at first. My own fault I think, having not read the blurb properly. I was a bit shall I /sharn't I? about reading it at all but it had cost me nearly a tenner so away we go.
I am really glad I made the effort. It is a novel and it is excellent. The pastor in question has a crisis of faith, much of which takes place in the pulpit. The elders ask him to leave (asap) and try and get himself together. He goes to Italy, where has an uncle who is a monk. The uncle leads him through the teaching of St Francis. This challenges everything he has every understood about how he lives out his faith in God, about how all his mind based certainties about how a Christ like life should be lived may not be quite what he thinks they are and how people who he would have judged as deficient in some way may be connecting with God's will in a way that may be better than his.
Some parts are very moving as he sort of sees Jesus for the first time. HOH found some of the parts based in his home church quite disturbing, presenting, as they do, people jockeying for position in his absence. 
Of course, this is a novel and some bits can seems a bit too good to be true. Who has a wise monk-uncle living in the most beautiful parts of Italy? (Well I suppose, someone must have - just no-one I have ever heard of) The good people are very good and the bad people are - well - disappointing. However, it is writing with spiritual impact I think. It becomes clear fairly early on that some of the things the pastor has learnt have also affected the writer. In fact, the last part of the book contains instruction on how to take these thoughts further, which is very useful. I enjoyed it a lot and learnt a lot. It has also managed to ask me some important questions about my Christianity. Highly recommended by er...me

Do you ever just get a song in your head?

Wikipedia

 Only because it was in my head all day yesterday - can't remember any of the verses - just this chorus. So, just remembering when you sang a verse and then tucked your hymn book under your arm to clap in the chorus or if you were really, really spiritual you didn't pick up the book at all!   (Freaks)

Just a lovely. lovely song---2,3,4

I can never tell how much I love Him,
I can never tell His love for me,
For it passeth human measure,
Like a deep, unfathomed sea;
’Tis redeeming love in Christ my Savior,
In my soul the heav’nly joys begin;
And I live for Jesus only,
Since the fullness of His love came in.

Eliza E Hewitt 1916

How Old?

Happy Birthday FOW2!!! 19? Really? Shurley some mistake?

Just me and my mum...

driving each other crazy...


(Me)Thought you might like a trip to Dunelm Mill

(Aged Parent) What for?

Dunno, just thought you might fancy a walk round.

Well, I don't really need anything but..

(Later - entering Dunelm Mill.)

We are just passing the bedding - Did you need anything? 

 No. I need some storage. 

It's just that, if you do need bedding, it's best to get it now because we would have to walk all the way back round the warehouse to get back here.

No, just storage.

What sort of storage?

I'll know when I see it. Just storage.

What are you storing - Christmas Decs, Eiderdowns, Cup cakes, assault rifles?

I am ignoring you. It says storage over there

It says Children's storage. There's more round the corner.

(Walk round the corner - no storage there)

I saw storage back there, and I said so but you said no.

Wasn't that Children's storage? 

Nope.

(Walk back in direction of parent's pointy finger. Stand under large sign saying "Children's Storage"). 

There's only children's storage here

Yes, I think I did say so. Did you want children's storage - some of it is quite cute?

Don't be ridiculous.

(We carry on walking round the store, in slow yet sure pursuit of an underbed box for winter sweater storage)

Did that laptop come?

Nope.

Is it lost in the post?

Nope. It's being signed for. It will arrive.

What if someone else signs for it?

They won't.

Will you ring me when it arrives?

Why?

To put my mind at rest. Anyone could sign for it.

Only someone in our house. If someone breaks in at the precise moment the postman is knocking at my letterbox and stands at my front door and signs for it, I will be worried.

You're not funny.

Look, here are some storage boxes. (Stop at huge wall of various boxes)

This is good. I like these.

Brilliant. So you have everything now yes?

Yes - just as soon as I find where the bedding is.

Back from Cardiff

So, we are back from 2 days in Cardiff. A little bit of shopping and a nice hotel breakfast. I am a big fan of hotel buffet breakfasts even though I would never dream of eating cereal, full english and a danish for breakfast under normal circumstances; it means you don't need lunch so, is therefore a very frugal move on my part. 

The main reason we decamped to Cardiff was to see Caitlin Moran at St David's Hall. You may or may not have heard of her. She is a columnist for The Times, a writer and also has just written the script for Channel 4's Raised By Wolves. 

Caitlin Moran is very funny and smart with some important things to say. However, it would probably not be wise to go and see her with your maiden aunt (or with Roy Chubby Brown and Howard Stern actually) She has a colourful way with the English language and is also a passionate feminist. As part of this passion, she feels that certain female "things" need to be addressed in an open, out there sort of way. It is not for the faint hearted. 

Among subjects covered on the night were - body image, menstruation, shaving legs, not being a size 8, the thigh gap and a few things I probably shouldn't bother you with. If it's sounds a bit heavy, it really wasn't - she is very funny and sweet and kind. My daughter loved her and so did I. There were lots of things I didn't agree with but, it was great to hear a woman tell other women that they are beautiful, that they shouldn't take any notice of magazines and movies that tell them otherwise. I might be a bit old to be standing up with 1500 other people shouting "I am a feminist" but it was a great night. 

Politics

This is not the time or the place for politics even though everywhere seems to be full of it. However, this week, a promising breakthrough. I heard this weekend that there is enough money in the national kitty so that people with houses worth up to £1000,000 don't have to pay inheritance tax, which is nice. I am so pleased that that there is an unexpected windfall. You see, where I work we have a volunteer who was recently told that he is fit for work, despite his ongoing depressive illness - established by the fact that he can hold a pen and walk ten paces successfully. His doctor  is adamant that he shouldn't be working and should continue his therapeutic work for us but times are tough for everybody and there just wasn't the money in the public purse. But now - hurrah! It seems that there is some money about and I am sure that the powers that be will happily put it my friend's way so that he doesn't need to leave us. What?

Nothing

Living intentionally. That's the way forward. Not wasting a second. A plan for everything and everything in a plan. I like a list I do. Mainly because I forget so much these days - old age rather than a hectic lifestyle. Life is apparently like a cheque book or something and every day is a cheque waiting to be written which you can never return (unlike most cheques which can be returned if you don't have enough money in your account. I am not sure that I have understood this analogy.) Apparently we are all going to be lying on our deathbeds wishing that we had been able to tick more off our to-do lists.

It's just, do I always have to be balling socks when I am watching the telly? (I have never balled socks while watching the telly but am assured that some people do) Do I have to excuse listening to the Reverend Richard Coles on the radio by dusting while I am doing so? Does all my activity have to be useful or instructive or deep? Is there no room for sitting and staring out of the window and thinking about nothing? Is it still ok to put your head back and doze for twenty minutes when you get in from work - even though you know full well that there are shoes to be cobbled and roofs to be thatched? Am I still ok to kind of leave the room mentally every now and then? 

Jim Elliot said

" Wherever you are, be all there! Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God."

This is, I think, a call to living every moment for God, which no one could argue with. It's just that I think we should be careful how the word "live" is defined here. Just sitting contemplating with your chin on your knee, shouldn't be a bad thing. It shouldn't make you feel guilty. There will always be stuff to be done but sometimes you have to let it go - like the annoying Disney song. (Can I just say Frozen - no where near as good as Mulan. End of discussion) 

This is not a call to just sitting there and letting it all get past you. It's just about it being ok to stop every now and then. Sometimes to think things through, sometimes to give God time to speak and sometimes to suddenly wake up after unexpectedly losing consciousness while just closing your eyes while waiting for the kettle to boil. 

Read

Originally for me, this book fell into one of two buckets

This is a book deliberately written to provide a simple guide to return to simple prayer.

                                                OR

Someone famous who has just thrown together some well worn prayer certainties which has taken him about twenty minutes.

I have to confess that the first time I read this, it fell into the second bucket - leaving almost no impression at all. It was like eating one of those flying saucer sweets that melted on your tongue and then disappeared to nothing. (Although sometimes, if you were unlucky,  they got stuck on your teeth and you couldn't get them off and your mouth went all claggy.)

However, I wouldn't claim to be the queen of the world when it comes to attention spans, so I had another look, especially as I noticed that it was nominated for Christian Book of the Year. Having read it again,  I think that, if it is read a different way to the way that I did; slowly, prayerfully and possibly with a pencil and notebook, there is more to be had here than I gave it credit for. There are simple but strong truths here and it does no harm to read them again. There is also a study  area at the back where you can go over what you have read and apply it. It opens up even further then. I think it probably does people good to read that prayer can be simple and straightforward. We do not need to put on airs and graces to come to our Father to speak and it is important to know that. (However as a person who has few problems getting stuff off her chest to God and whines to him on an almost minute by minute basis, I sometimes wonder if God thinks he could do with a bit more reverence and all that hows your father from me - but that's my shortcoming not yours I expect.)

For me, other books on prayer - "Too Busy Not To Pray" by Bill Hybels and "The Road Of Blessing" by Pen Wilcock hit the mark a bit more. That is very much a personal preference of course - don't write to the Daily Mail. I would recommend the Lucado, as a basis to overhaul your prayer life and shake it up a bit. If you do it properly I think it is very useful.

I, on the other hand, am now going back to reading the next one in CF Dunn's "Secret of the Journal" series. It's very tense and a real knicker gripper as my old nana used to say.  

.

Dead

I do hope you don't mind this. This is a re-post from last year's Easter Saturday. It's not that I think  it's the bees knees or anything. It's just that today is important I think. Almost as challenging as Good Friday was for the followers of Christ. And it's important for those waiting for a miracle from God. When God seems distant, when we feel we have lost, when the waiting seems hopeless. That experience is rooted in Easter Saturday

This is Easter Saturday. A Holy Day for many Christians. A day of complicated theology. For me Easter Saturday means something else. It is the day before the miracle. The day when the tomb was still well and truly shut to those outside. A day when Jesus' followers were saying - Well what was all that about then? A day when the promised end seemed impossible. A day when God's power may not have seemed as powerful as they had hoped. The day that followed the darkest day and it showed no improvement - no sign of what was to come. Only cold, dark quiet. No signs from God, no encouragement, no answers.

Easter Saturday resonates with anyone on the journey of faith. A silence from God. A pause in the plan. No clues as to the coming miracle. Just a quiet, waiting game. We know now that Sunday came and with it, the extraordinary. But the Easter Saturday experience is just as important. The faith. The waiting. The unbelief. The expectancy. The confusion. This is where the pattern for faith is set. This is where we learn who God is, as we wait.

Reserving the right to be sad

Today is Good Friday. All over the Interweb Christian friends are putting stuff up saying "It's Friday but Sunday's coming!" or "A lot can happen in three days!!!" or "Don't Worry - Victory is around the corner."

This is all well and good and there is nothing to disagree with, it's just, can I say "Whoa! Slow down there Missy" Sunday will be Sunday and that's amazing but today is Friday - all day. It is a day in its own right. A profound and amazing thing happened today. Jesus decided to lose today. For me. For you. And it was sad and slow and horrible. I'm a bit uncomfortable with moving on too soon. Listen, I'm not going to spend the day in sackcloth and ashes. Life being what it is, this is the only day my family can get together for its Easter Meal and it will be great.

But just for today, just for some of it. Lets' not rush. Let's weep with those who weep. (It's easy to find plenty of those at the moment.)  Take time to think about Friday. Tomorrow will be Saturday with challenges of its own - God was dead and in the grave and Sunday will surely follow but today is Friday, Good Friday; a day of profound gratitude first and foremost.

Mancs Ahoy

So did you like "The Ark"? It was at least good to see a bit of Christianity in the lead up to Easter even if "bit" is the most relevant word in that sentence, Anyway, I really liked it. I thought it was full of warmth and love and at least there was a few references to God which is always helpful in a Biblical story, don't cha think? A few thoughts

• What is it with these fictitious sons that these new films keep giving to Noah? I always thought that he had enough to deal with, with the first three. Apparently the fourth son was from Hollyoaks. I do not know if this is significant. Probably not.
• As with the Russell Crowe version, the world that had to be wiped out seems be underplayed somewhat. In this case, it looks as if God decided to wipe out all humanity because of a particularly drunken student party.
• It could have done with a bit more money thrown at it really. I don't suppose that anyone could afford any CGI for the animals so consequently the march of the animals seems to have been put together by cutting them out of black paper, sticking them onto the back of a lolly stick and playing shadow puppet theatre. Also, I think I coughed and missed the actual flood. One minute everyone was strapping themselves down and the next Noah was doing big stretches on Mount Ararat.
• There has been a lot of moaning about the fact that Noah's family all had Mancunian accents - like this was a bad thing. It worked for me. Northern was good. Northern is always good. That is all.