A Week

Really busy week. Work - blah. Cracked Tooth - blah. Dentist - blah. Lots to say and hope the blog isn't too long. It occurs to me that I might make this a bit easier by blogging a bit more often but don't want to overstay my welcome so will think about it. We all survived the Prom. The weather was awful which didn't help the balcony shot at FOW2's friend's house.

They spent a lovely day hot-tubbing (is that a word?) and being pampered. Then all the mums arrived and made their lives a misery for an hour by fussing and panicking. Some mums were a bit uber-organised which made me feel like a bad mother (again) because I just sort of turned up, gave her a kiss and said "have a good time" and "be careful with that dress because I'm going to Ebay it" She looked beautiful and grown up which was both lovely and a bit sad if you know what I mean.
Head of House and FOW 1 spent the weekend in York sorting out move to student house for next university year. Did I mention that he had changed his course from Politics to Archaeology?  Can't remember. Lots of reasons. Boring, Very disillusioned with the kind of people who did a politics course (some of them anyway) and also because, as his new Archaeology teacher said "I have no idea why you ever opted for Politics. You have stellar marks in History. whatever possessed you?" He wanted to make a difference I think but has decided that Politics is not the way to do it.
Just as an aside and in a non party political way. The only politicky person he saw that he at all impressed by (and he saw quite a few) was David Milliband. He was the one politician who, when asked a question that he didn't know the answer to replied, "I don't know the answer to that but I will try and find out for you." No ballooning. Just an honest answer. Something to be learnt there maybe?
Anyway, as I was saying,  family males were away for the weekend so I was in charge and people were panicking on Spotlight News because of the weather forecast. Floods everywhere apparently. Danger of Death. First time ever that Devon had a "RED" weather alert. They were so worked up that it knocked the story of "Extra Large Flower Grows in Salcombe" off the top of the news. Then FOW2 went down with a bad cold so she was going to be no help. Couldn't sleep on Saturday morning because I was so busy listening for the Four Weathermen of the Apocalypse coming galloping up Glyn Road. How was I going to get Morecambe into a helicopter when we were winched to safety without him biting Prince William?
Found myself watching some Christian TV. Spent twenty minutes being begged for money then watching some young people with interesting hair doing worship. At one point they appeared to be shaking their fists at me. Oh Yeah? Well come and have a go then!
I luuurve Young People. I live with two of them and because of that I am running into lots of them all the time. (For some reason nearly all of them tell my kids - "I love your Mum - she is so funny and Northern!". Why does no-one ever say "She's so deep and spiritual" or "She reminds me so much of Nigella Lawson"? Answer to that obvious I suppose.) All young people are a bit annoying obviously but I think they deserve better than this one size fits all approach. It reminded me why I hardly ever bother with this kind of stuff. I'm not alone apparently. It's a shame because I know there is good stuff on there - I see preachers' names and I know they will be good. It's just that there is so much same old - same old. For me anyway. I do not claim to be the fount of all media knowledge.
So I found this channel which was running a sort of docudrama of the time just after Jesus' resurrection. I don't even think it was overtly Christian because it kept going on about a "vision" of Jesus doing this and a "vision" of Jesus appearing here. It really hit home for me in a few ways though. The thing is, I have spent so much time rattling on about nothing in particular that I don't really have time to write about it. So, I will probably do another post tomorrow. Please call back if you can. have just realised that this is 100th post. Sorry it is not more epic. Must be more disciplined. Must not witter.

Tar

Have taken far too much time watching the football. I have managed to fall out of the small routine that I have in the evenings and I am doing my own head in. It surprises me how it only takes a little disruption - like watching 22 men play the beautiful game and it being available nearly every night - to throw me off my little but still quite important evening routines. These are the routines that ensure that I get stuff done such as making sure everything is ready for work next morning so I don't find myself frantically ironing a work shirt on the kitchen counter while trying to make my lunch sandwich and avoiding getting mayonnaise on said shirt. These are the routines that get writing written, dogs walked, menus planned and families nagged. They are annoying but they are important and I have to remind myself that I am a grown up now and need to buck up. Goodness knows what my life would have been like if I had lived during the time of say.."Lark Rise To Candleford" (the book not the wishy-washy TV series.) In those days every waking moment seemed to be devoted to work to stay alive. My family would have wasted down to nothing years before now. Anyway, the football is nearly finished now so back on the wagon as they say.
The title of this blog is part of the phrase "Tarring everybody with the same brush." I don't know if it is just a northern phrase and I'm sure it's roots are quite unsavory but it was the only thing I can think of. Look, if you want literary depth try Shakespeare or Jilly Cooper or something.
I had been thinking about it while reading all the stuff about bankers. It is terrible to me how these people could bring us to the point of financial meltdown by using techniques that were both immoral and, it now seems, illegal. In another age we would have dragged these people to stocks or possibly guillotines. I am not recommending this as a punishment but  the lack of accountability is almost as shocking as the things that have been done. However, I was earwigging in a queue this week and heard of someone going into a bank and having a go at the girl behind the counter which concluded with a phrase along the lines of  "you ******* cheating bankers are all the same!"
I worked in a bank for fifteen years. I have many friends who work in banks. These are nice, normal people who would no more illegally fix an interest rate than they would boil their own heads. Many of them will be able to tell you stories about the time they were called to meetings to be told that the old culture of service, relationship and good stewardship were now to be ditched in favour of sales and oh yes.. selling. I remember people with thirty years of service being told that if they didn't like it then they needed to find somewhere else to work. These decisions had been made by people as alien to them as something bursting out of John Hurt's belly - yet they all go under the title of "bankers". And not everyone who works in banking sales is a twonk. Some people are though - and some are not. It's an individual thing.
Christians suffer the same problem. If you say you are a Christian, people sometimes see you as a right wing, gay bashing, crusade approving, cheek sucking in, generally disapproving kind of person or as a pathetic softy who uses Christianity as a crutch and won't face up to the realities of life. I wouldn't say that I am either but you might disagree. Then again, you may know a Christian who is like the description above and have therefore decided that this is how all Christians are. Some people judge all Christians by a bad thing that was done to them by a Christian once. Is that not like judging all Mexicans by a bad thing that was done by a Mexican once? I may be a Christian chump. It doesn't mean that my Christian friend is. Some Christians are as bad. She's not spiritual enough because I saw her in the pub. He's too into his own holy hole to be of any use to the church. You know the sort of thing. Being judgy is a tricky business. By tarring everyone with the same brush you might be missing out on good people and a different point of view. The banking crisis is a sad state of affairs with many innocent victims. Lots of them may have the words "bank clerk" in their job description. Be kind.

Phillipians 4 The Message
You'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious - the best, not the worse.

Salt

Last week Head of House made our tea. This is not an unusual event. He often shares in cookery duties because he is a man - not an idiot. On this occasion he served up spaghetti bolognese, again not unusual. This is a meal well within outstanding capabilities. However, this week there was a problem. No one wanted to say anything at first because you don't want to appear ungrateful but it was sooo salty. In the end, the coughing and the buckets of water we were consuming sort of gave the game away. HOH was the first to say - "Is this salty? Or is it me?" Relief! "Well yes actually - it is - a bit. Not a lot. Just, well, a bit" All very British.
It turns out that Nigella - for it is she - always salts her pasta liberally because she feels that it should taste as "salty as the Mediterranean" or some such blah. This confirms my thesis that Nigella should never be allowed to teach cookery to chaps because they either do not concentrate on anything she is saying as they are so busy staring glassily or they follow her advice, slavishly without question - even if it means everyone in the family develops type 2 diabetes in the space of an afternoon.
I am aware that Biblically, salt is often seen as a good thing and I am certainly NOT contradicting the Bible. None of your heresy here indeed no! But salt isn't always a good thing and those of us who spent an evening this week putting our fingers down our throats and making retching noises will attest to this. (HOH I am not going on and on about this. I am making a very deep spiritual point here. I am aware that anyone can make a mistake. Let's ask ourselves whether you were that gracious when I forgot to move the dog pooh from under the back step. You know it is a rule in here to look before you walk.)
I was reading in Ezekiel this week about a vision about a river that flowed into the sea. Unusually, when this river flows, it turns salt water into freshwater. Wherever it touches (and only where it actually touches) the land becomes habitable, plantable (if you know what I mean) lush and green.

Wherever the river flows, life will flourish...because the river is turning the salt sea into fresh water. Where the river flows, life abounds. The swamps and the marshes won't become fresh - they'll stay salty. But the river itself on both banks will grow fruit trees of all kinds. Their leaves won't wither and the fruit won't fail."

I have left a bit of scripture out here which I think means certain death but you can read it in Ezekiel 47. Its very good.
This week, I spoke to a lady at length on the phone. I don't speak to her that often and can't claim to know her that well but I have to be honest - it was a bit of a trial. She doesn't seem to like anything or anyone. Everyone has it in for her, everyone has an agenda, no one cares. It was the kind of conversation that makes you metaphorically put your duvet over your head and wait until it goes away. It made me think of the salt thing because I sort of felt that was how a slug must feel when my Mum is out and about in the garden with the salt cellar. My challenge, which - spoiler - I failed miserably, was, I think, to try and take the salt out of the way she felt and leave her happier and more balanced about life and her friends. It was much easier and in a way more natural to let her way of thinking infect me and end up believing that most people are indeed ratbags and go and shout at the football, which is more or less what happened
So, how to overcome when you are in the middle of general horribleness? When nastiness is intimidating the living daylights out of you and it's difficult to fight back. When you are behaving like a piece of work yourself and seem powerless to stop it. Don't ask me - it's well outside my skill set. The difference, of course is God. The God who can turn us around and make us what we are not. Who makes the impossible possible. The promise is there but delivery only comes with asking. I think we are meant to ask and often. Only with God and through God, I think the moral is.

Quick Call

This is a little itsy bitsy blog. Just to check in really. Spent the weekend feeling a bit ill with a full on headachy thing. My old mother says that sometimes when you feel ill, its a warning that you are overdoing it/stressed/pooped or all of the above and that feeling a bit off is your body's way of prioritising you taking a rest. So that's what I am doing.
This means this weekend I had to give up on

• Big cook in and freezing stuff (have actually thrown some food away aaaagh!)
• Trying new chocolate cake recipe   (Lin, if you are reading this, the reason I am trying new recipe for chocolate cake is because you keep forgetting to bring me yours!)
• Church and the return of our beloved pastor
• A trip to the cinema to watch the Danny Boyle's stage production of Frankenstein as above (Much looked forward to)
• My blog

Still, thems the breaks I'm afraid. I am putting this sorry carcass first for a couple of days. Normal service resumed next week. DV *Lies down and puts another Mentalist DVD in the machine*

Beautiful or useful....

......or loved.
I am trying to deal with a character flaw. Trying and failing. Apparently, one of the things that is preventing me surging forward into being a mighty woman of God is my inability to streamline my life. Specifically, my struggle with clutter. I have had a book on this from the library. There are a lot of these books about. These books promise me that they will show me the great secret to sorting my life out. Having read a good few of these books, my first reaction is to wonder which chumps give these people publishing deals. In every single one of them we discover that the great secret to de cluttering my life is to - wait for it - throw things out! Insight bordering on the supernatural there I think you'll find.
I have to make clear here that I am not one of those people you see on the telly who live in six feet of filth and have to have counselling before throwing out a newspaper with a headline showing the Hindenburg on fire. These are people who are not well. I am not mentally ill - or certainly not in a way that manifests itself this way. Whether it is balanced behaviour to get up early on Saturday morning to watch four back to back episodes of The Mentalist you will need to judge for yourselves. (By the way - box set - great birthday present family of mine)
So, we know it isn't as bad as it could be but could it be better? Could I sail through life unencumbered by stuff. I do admire those who seek to live life more simply. Thinkers and peaceable people who have managed to pare back their lives. I am not one of these people. It's just that so much of my life is tied up in things. Witness the shelf in our bedroom. (s'cuse dust) It's full not just of things but memories.
Candlesticks - bought on a lovely, in and out of shops, kind of day in Modbury when we had just moved South West.
The Angel Statue - given to me by the cast of a play I directed in my old church. Pleasant surprise - thought they hated me.
Jo Malone Candle - Christmas Present from Mum and Brother. Would never spend that sort of dosh on a candle for me. Gets lit on high days and holidays only.
Family Photos - No explanation necessary
Kissing Pigs - Bought on first ever trip to York as married couple. Not high art I know. Ask me if I care.
Perfume Bottle - Gift from HOH. None of your business.
Red Candle Sticks - Usually brought down for Christmas Table.
Teddy Bear - Pinched from present bundle we made up for friends' baby. Look, we bought the baby clothes from GAP - it's enough for anyone.
Teddy Bear is wearing necklace Fruit of Womb 1 brought back from school trip to Germany. Can't say I actually wore it but the thought and everything.

In terms of money, there's nothing too valuable there. The memories are the greatest value possible. Call me a sentimental old bessie but I would rather deal with a bit of a dust trap that makes me happy than a streamlined empty space that leaves me more time to take over the world or whatever it is I am supposed to be doing. You are not supposed to have anything in your house that isn't beautiful or useful. What about stuff you love? I'm building relationship, family, friendship here. I realised long ago that I wasn't able to build an efficient palace that would get me into Minimalist Weekly. Fortunately, that never did float my boat.

Present yourselves as building stones for the construction of a sanctuary vibrant with life, in which you'll serve as holy priests offering Christ-approved lives up to God.
1 Peter 2