Yum Yum

As "Stripe" says in the film "Gremlins" when he spies the Candy Store from the cinema: "Yum Yum!"


Supper was rather nice.

Butterfly turkey steak in a mushroom and creme fraiche sauce, with fresh sliced green beans, and East Anglian potatoes and carrots with mint.

*burp*

And then there was Tuesday's supper

Mmmm - roast chicken with stuffing balls, carrots and mushrooms, in a rich gravy, with roast potatoes and parsnips!

*yum yum*

Followed by a small slice of chocolate cheesecake and cream!

So - where was I?

Ah yes - I had posted my reaction to having paid £16 to have my windows cleaned on Monday, and it hasn't stopped raining since! Bah!

Time test

Poting this on Wednesday 9th July 19.19 p.m. And it seems to be working again!

Rural ministry pressures

Damn - but these Strawberry Teas are hard work! That's two weekends in a row!

Good Night

When Grandmere Mimi recently wrote about watching the film "Good Night and Good Luck", I looked it up in the Internet Movie Database. What I read made me want to watch it, so I ordered it, and tonight I sat and watched the DVD.

A compelling telling of Ed Murrow's CBS News broadcasts questioning the 1950's campaign by Junior Senator McCarthy to root out communist members and sympathisers from all walks of life.

As I put the disc back into its case and made myself a mug of coffee, the film began to resonate with the current problems facing the Anglican Communion. Murrow comments that anyone who dared question McCarthy's actions would be labelled a communist or communist sympathiser. Elsewhere in the blogging world today is the report that Archbishop Akinola has described the Jordanian refusal to allow him entry into their country for the pre-GAFCON meeting, as "satanic". By implication therefore, anyone who challenges his version of the Anglican church, is working for the dark side.

Ed Morrow had the courage to make a stand against what he perceived to be an assault on the liberties and justice of his nation. We in the Church of England may soon be called upon to make a similar stand, to preserve our heritage of freedom to think and debate and argue about our theology, our biblical interpretation, the way in which we worship, and our openness to hold our faith in common with those with whom we disagree. When that day comes, may Ed Murrow's actions be an inspiration to us.

Menu de la maison ce soir

Turkey breast in a creme fraiche and moutarde l'ancienne sauce, with braised green pepper, boiled new potatoes and broccoli florets.

*chomp*

And the end of the bottle of Cahors.

*sob*

As soon as I saw it ...

... I knew.

Just before two o'clock this afternoon, as I was driving out to the local Primary School to hear some children read, I looked at the sky. As soon as I saw the cloud formation I knew what it was. Having been a Thunderstorm Observer for TORRO for the last 20 years (I no longer am), I have learnt a lot about clouds, and I knew this one looked different. However by the time I stopped the car and got out the camera, it had changed much of its shape.

The visible bulge below the storm cloud had been much more pronounced, and more tail-like, and if I had been in Tornado Alley in the USA, warning bells would have rung. As it was, the cloud's "tail" was dissipating, and within a few more minutes it had gone.

On the local Weather News tonight there was a photograph taken at Diss, not that far away, of a funnel cloud that had appeard there this afternoon. It was clearly the same formation, though all I saw was the end of it. If it had developed further, and touched down, it would have been a small tornado.

Twenty minutes later, as I was in the School and the cloud passed overhead, the heavens opened, and we had a torrential downpour.

This evening there were more good cloud formations, and I snapped this one as I went out for my evening Church Council meeting.

And on the table tonight ...

Since last night's menu was appreciated, tonight we have pasta and meatballs in tomato and herb sauce, topped with grated cheese. The meatballs came from IKEA so they were the genuine Swedish article! The sauce was made from tinned chopped tomatoes and a small tin of tomato puree, a large pinch of Herbs de Provence, and a dash of Cahors.

And of course I had to pour myself a glass as well.

Followed (after a pause) by a helping of Crema di Marscapone ice-cream.

*burp*

And on the Menu tonight ...

At the close of a beautiful summer's day, there's chicken goujons marinaded in lemon juice and home grown mint, lightly fried with chopped green pepper, and finished with a creme fraiche sauce, served with boiled new potatoes and mint, and sliced carrots. Washed down with a glass (or two) of the black wine of Aquitaine, a 2004 Cahors. Followed by Hertfordshire strawberries and cream, and a double black espresso coffee, with cream yet again. Just as well my cholesterol level is normal!

Highwaymen

This afternoon I attempted to drive down into Bungay, a distance of 3 miles from The Rectory to the outskirts. Taking my usual route, I noticed that there were speed advisory signs indicating road re-surfacing, and the lack of road markings, but nothing to say that the road was impassable.

Two and a half miles further down, and the road was completely blocked with lorries carrying out the aforesaid resurfacing. I slowed to a halt in front of them and attempted to speak to the workman who approached the car. He informed me that the road was blocked and that I would have to turn around. As I tried to inform him of the lack of any signs saying this he interrupted me and said there was a sign at the junction. I again tried to tell him there was no sign, but was once more interrupted by him saying that he had been there himself and put the the sign out. I asked him to let me finish what I was trying to tell him, and then informed him that the only sign about possible "delays" on the road was a hundred or so yards back, and at a small crossroads. I then said that this was inadequate since both roads at that junction were dead-ends and led only to farms. The sign had to be placed at the T-juntion two and a half miles back, to prevent cars and lorries from driving all the way along before finding that the way was blocked. I suggested that a "Road Closed" sign would be more apt, but he blankly said that they were "not allowed to close roads," a statement I frankly find rather strange since the Highways Department continually close roads all over the County for repairs.

No "Roadworks" sign visible anywhere at the junction. The sign with its back to the camera says "No Road Markings", which is also incorrect, as the markings are still on the road.


I drove home and telephoned Suffolk County Council and left my comments for the Highways department, complete with OS Grid reference of the T-junction. By the amount of traffic I passed on my secondary route just now as I came back from Bungay, and the lorries now going past my home, I suspect that the sign has been moved. I shall walk up the road later and check.

Another lethal device

Many years ago I had dealings with another temperamental Ascot water heater. This one was in the rear kitchen of a small Independant Off-licence where I used to work in Brighton. The kitchen was a small narrow space, often containing numerous boxes of wine, as well as packaging, advertising boards, ullage and the like. It had a small sink at the near end, right by the door. The hot water was provided by one of those dreaded Ascots, and this one was more temperamental than most. When it was turned on, the gas would hiss alarmingly for a few seconds before ignition took place, and the longer the gas hissed, the greater the bang when it finally caught.

One morning, when I was working with A, he went out the back to wash his hands after taking the empties down to the cellar and sorting them, as I was out in the shop. I heard him turn on the Ascot and I waited for the bang. There was a long pause, and then a cry of "Oh Bugger!" followed by an almighty explosion and a clattering of metal. Trying not to laugh too much, I edged my way towards the door. A was standing there. looking slightly shell-shocked. The ignition had been so long delayed that when it happened there had been a large amount of gas in the flame chamber, and the resulting explosion had blasted the metal lid off the unit and sent it flying across the kitchen. Needless to say, for some weeks after, whenever we needed to use that water heater, we would turn it on and beat a hasty retreat either back into the shop, or to the other end of the kitchen and the toilet.

Thinking about it, explosions were not uncommon in that shop. One day, when A and I were again working, we had just re-stocked the shelves that held the litre bottles of fizzy soft drinks, mostly made by the R. Whites ("I'm a secret lemonade drinker") Company. We were both behind the shop counter when there were a couple of loud bangs and lots of breaking glass. Two bottles of lemonade had exploded and sent shards of glass and a couple of litres of sticky sugary liquid over the shelves and surrounding area. It took us a long time to clear up, and we eyed those bottles with suspicion every time we had to bring more out into the shop. It could have been very nasty.

But not as nasty as when the owner and three of us who worked there were enjoying a Chinese take-away in the back of the shop after we had closed for the night. Suddenly there was a sound of running water, and we looked up to see a drunken man peeing through the letter box in the shop door onto the mat below. The owner, M, was not someone to be tangled with when she got angry, and she flew out of the shop, chasing him up the road and calling him all sorts of names, finally catching him at the bus-stop, throwing his own take-away into the road, and calling him a "dirty b*****d!".

I rather enjoyed my 11 years working in Munnerys Wine Stores.

This was the card I was given when I left in 1982 to start my theological training, signed inside by all the "staff" and lots of regular customers - even by the lads who went on to become "Peter & the Test-Tube Babies" who used to come in to buy Merrydown cider!

Controlled explosions

In answer to the query on the previous post, this is the best image I could find of an Ascot water heater with a swivel pipe. However, the one in my flat was somewhat less modern than this, and would rattle dramatically when it was fired up. If I turned the water pipe to the right it filled either the washing-up bowl or the shallow china sink. If I turned it to the left, and remembered to lift the worktop, it filled the bath. On wash-days, I had to angle it just right to fill the single-tub washing machine that I stood next to the bath. That was when washing clothes was a morning's work - fill the single tub, let it heat up, then put in the first load and switch on. Turn off after 5 minutes, disentangle the clothes, turn it on again. Then the sopping wet clothes had to be lifted out with tongs and flung into the bath which I had filled with cold water, for a rinse. Then I had a small spin dryer that I had to be careful with, for if I knocked the bowl under its drainage spout I could flood the kitchen floor! Oh, the deep joy when I upgraded to a twin tub with its own built-in spinner! Mind you, I still had to rinse out the tubs and remove the fluff from the filters! And if the clothes weren't loaded evenly in the spinner, the machine would thunder wildly across the floor!


Mine wasn't gold like this one, but the layout is the same, even to the rubber ring that was put into the top of the spinner to stop the clothes from getting entangled in the machinery.

The tumble dryer that completed my utility collection only died a couple of years ago.

It's all so easy now.

A busy week

The last week has been somewhat hectic, the main event being helping a young lad who has been a resident house guest for the last seven and a half years move out to his own flat in Norwich. This has entailed numerous drives to and from the city, cars packed with boxes and cases and bags and furniture and cds and dvds and clothes and bike and toolkit and bedding and towels and ....

He has been gone a week now, and it has taken me three days to get his old room to the state where it can once again be used as a spare room. He still has a wardrobe and a chest of drawers full of clothing, and a stack of boxes and bags "in store" here, and I don't mind that.

The flat he has moved into is really very nice. Close to his work, in a quiet road, and within minutes of the city centre, he has the whole of Norwich at his feet. I'm quite envious of the world that has opened up for him after all the years spent out here in the countryside where life is much more slow and relaxed. This has not been a good environment for someone who should be spreading his wings and learning from and with his peers.

It has made me reflect on my first flat in Brighton. I was teaching at the time, and still living at home, when my father announced to me over the tea table, "I've found you a flat. We'll go and look at it this evening." It was just down the road and owned by my Godfather, and within a couple of weeks I was in. On the top floor of a terraced house, it consisted of a sitting room, kitchen/bathroom, bedroom, and a separate toilet. Being at the top, the stairwell was virtually "private", and I used it as an extension to my living space as the flat was really in two parts, with two doors off the landing, one to the the sitting room and kitchen, and the other to the bedroom and toilet.

The only heating was a small gas fire in the front room, and in the kitchen the bath was under the lift-up worktop. Hot water came from an Ascot with a swivel pipe, and there was a small gas stove and a gas fridge - a good old "Thermocold" which ran really well. If I was cold whilst taking a bath, I would reach behind me and turn on the gas stove, which warmed the room quite well. There was a sink in the bedroom, but only with cold water. Single-glazed, there was often ice on the windows in winter, but during the summer I could get a cool breeze blowing through the flat from front to back. It also had great views, over rough hillside behind, and over the playing field of Brighton College in front.

What really annoys me is that I don't have a single photograph of the inside of the place. I still occasionally dream about it - I think that the first home of your own digs itself deep into your subconcious, so that you never forget it. In some ways the flat in Norwich reminds me of that Brighton home where I began to become my own person, and my envy of it has something to do with the loss of that freshness and excitement of unknown horizons.



In this photo, lifted from the net, my flat was the top floor of the building on the extreme right - No.5. What you can see is the kitchen window, but it was the same layout as the one in the middle which is No.7. With the flat roof of the bay windows beneath my own sitting room window, I used to sit astride the window-sill, one leg still inside to stop me falling out, and enjoy the sunshine and air. No worries about UV rays then. It was a much simpler life - though it didn't really seem so at the time.

A hot summer's afternoon

It was hot in Sussex yesterday, and the afternoon bbq a great success, with mountains of food - salads, sausages, kebabs, pork steaks, banoffee pie, pavlova, cheese - a veritable feast for the 7 of us. Liquid libations were also flowing. Entertainment was provided by several games of "Jenga", and we broke up in the early evening after a good time. It would have been better if my hay fever had not swept in so that I was sneezing violently at various intervals throughout, but the forecast had warned us that the grass seed pollen levels would be high, and they weren't wrong.


A straightforward drive back to Suffolk today - still hot but cloudy, and I made good time, with no delays on the M25 or the Dartford crossing.

P.S. No - that's not my chest!

Prayer to St Martha

When I did my long-distance walk through France in the early '90's (1990's, not 1890's!) I began to follow the medieval practice of asking the intercession of St Martha for a good Inn for the night. Leaving aside the whole theological debate about saints as intermediaries, it seemed that the prayer was always answered, and I was led to numerous pleasant hostelries for the night.

I have just driven down to the south-coast for a meeting tomorrow with friends with whom I used to work in a small off-licence in Brighton through the 70's. I had missed lunch, and so I was looking for a place to eat on the journey down. Having crossed the Thames on the Dartford bridge, I headed down through Tunbridge Wells, and fleetingly wondered about stopping at the Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet on the exit from the town, but instead decided to drive past that emporium of grease and uttered my prayer to St. Martha for a good Inn where I might find a repast that would satisfy.


Just north of Lewes the sign for the Old Ship caught my eye, and its board advertising food until 9.30 p.m. I swung into its car park, and a short while later was enjoying roast lamb and veg, followed by home-made banoffee pie and cream. Washed down with a glass of apple and blueberry, it was a welcome break in the journey, and very definitely a "good Inn".

If you ever pass that way, I recommend it.

Three good Fridays

A fortnight ago, Friday was the day friends arrived to spend the weekend, and we played croquet and numerous hands of Canasta.

Last Friday was the day I met the Dalai Lama, and I now have copies of the offical photographs. This is a poor quality image lifted from the photographer's website. The print and enlargement I bought are much better.


Today, I attended a Confirmation service at St. Felix School in Southwold, to see a young lad who lives in one of the villages of this Benefice have hands laid on him by the Bishop of Dunwich. It was really enjoyable service, and the school choir was brilliant. They sang with real confidence and expression, and it was a joy to hear.

And even though the weather today has been atrociously wet, and there are patches of flooding on the local roads, today and the last two Fridays have been "high days". In the fine evening sunlight yesterday, as I got back into my car after the Evening office at one of the nearby villages, the light revealed why this part of Suffolk is so beautiful.

And for all you Trekkers

La laa, la la la la laa.

Another good man done gone.

Alexander Courage

A day to remember

Today I had the opportunity to be part of a Group Audience with His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama. The meeting was held at Rhodes House in Oxford, and gathered together were the relatives of British officials and others, who were in Tibet during the late 19th century and the first half of the 20th century. I was invited because my late uncle David was one of just four British representatives to attend the enthronement of His Holiness in Lhasa in 1940. My uncle's daughter and her son were also present.

The Dalai Lama spoke to us about his hopes for Tibet, and his belief that it was possible to find a "middle way" for his country, where instead of becoming independent, which the Chinese would never allow, it became an autonomous region of China. He also encouraged us to visit the country, and said that because of our family connections with it, he considered us brothers and sisters of Tibet.

No doubt I shall write more on this when I have had a chance to think and reflect on the day - I've only just got back home. It's certainly something in which I'm very pleased to have taken part.

Perfect weather

Saturday was a beautiful day, with hot sunshine and cloudless skies, all of which proved a perfect setting for the croquet matches that took place on my recently-mown lawn. The grass may have been short enough, but the ground is anything but level, making it quite a game of chance as well as skill to hit the ball through the hoops. The regular golf players certainly had an advantage, and were able to make long shots with considerable accuracy.

Here, a roquet is just about to be gained, as the white ball hammers into the black. Some of these shots sent the victim's ball hurtling into the bushes, and on a couple of occasions, out into the road, from where it had to be played!

Corpus Christi

Seven of us (and one dog) for the mid-week Eucharist this morning on this the Feast of Corpus Christi - held on the Thursday following Trinity Sunday in our Calendar, 60 days after Easter. The Feast was formally established in 1215 when the Church asserted that what occurred during the mass was the miracle of transubstantiation; that is, that the wafer of consecrated bread did not simply represent the body of Christ but actually became it. As celebrated in the fourteenth century, the Feast included a procession during which the Holy Host was generally carried through or around the town, followed by a parade of important locals.

No procession in the village today, unless you count the three of us who crossed the road back to the vicarage for coffee and toast. Were/are we "important locals"? Doubt it. We don't have an "umbrellino" either.

Oh deep joy!

It seems that the grass pollens have started flying around, as I have now started sneezing and got the nasty itch at the back top of the mouth.

One of the natural remedies tells me to eat plenty of onion, garlic, pineapple, horseradish and local honey, seasoned with turmeric. Then I have to drink plenty of lemon, orange and pineapple juice. I also have to eat local honey, and take one or two tablespoons of cider vinegar (in herbal tea of apple juice, sweetened with honey) 2 to 3 times a day.

Hmmm. I might just sneeze!

That's better

Fare Thee Well

Fellow blogger, Hamptons Ramblings, has decided to quit the blogosphere as an author. He will still be annoying us with pithy comments and observations, albeit as a reader rather than a writer.

Damn. I shall miss the reports of evening meals, visits to local restaurants, descriptions of items for sale along the roadside, and diaries of long walks along the Long Island sands.

Green grow the ...

... well, everything really.

After the warmth of last week, and then the showers of the last couple of days, nature is rapidly taking over. It's just as well that it's the day for my gardener, but I think he might need his scythe rather than mower to tackle the state of the lawn.


I'm supposed to have it ready for croquet this coming weekend! Anyone got any sheep they'd like to graze?

An early morning post

'Tis now quarter past midnight, and the proverbial oil is burning. Have had a week of travelling up and down to Norwich for various reasons, and sometimes twice in a day, and it's a round trip of 40 miles. All of which explains why it's been quiet on the Saintly blogosphere lately.

I'm off to bed.

Sorry, Vernon

I got it wrong in the last posting - it was Vernon Washington who played Otis in "The Last Starfighter", and not Morgan Freeman.

Interesting trivia on Star Trek connections with the film's other actors - Wil Wheaton, known for his portrayal of Wesley Crusher in Star Trek: The Next Generation, had a part in the movie, but his scenes were cut. However, his name still appears in the closing credits and he can be seen as the tallest child running through the trailer park in one of the earliest scenes. Marc Alaimo, who played Gul Dukat in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, also appears as one of the assassins in human disguise sent to Earth to kill Alex Rogan by Xur (before the disguise is "detected" and erased by a nearby Last Starfighter game). Meg Wylie who played the Keeper in the Star Trek pilot The Cage appears briefly as Granny. (Courtesy of Wikipedia)

A sparklin' day

As Morgan Freeman's character "Otis" in the movie "The Last Starfighter" says as he looks out on the early morning, "It's going to be a sparklin' day, a sparklin' day," and so it is, again, here in rural Suffolk. Four days in a row we've had glorious sunshine and clear blue skies, and today is no different. My window cleaners have just been, and for the first time it looks like their work will not be washed away later in the day.

Nine of us at the 9.00 a.m. Eucharist in Ilketshall St. Margaret's small church, and we marked the Lesser Festival of Julian of Norwich. A strange and wonderful woman whose insights into the all-encompassing nature of God's loving relationship with his creation are as revealing today as they ever were.


Thus I was taught that love was our Lord's meaning. And I saw quite clearly in this and in all, that before God made us, he loved us, which love was never slaked nor ever shall be. And in this love he has done all his work, and in this love he has made all things profitable to us. And in this love our life is everlasting. In our creation we had a beginning. But the love wherein he made us was in him with no beginning. And all this shall be seen in God without end ...

Grounds for celebration?

Another monthly Coffee Morning bites the proverbial dust. A busy on ethis time, with 21 people clustered in my kitchen and hallway, plus 3 young army cadets on a long-distance training walk who called in for sugary drinks and snacks! Total profit, another £100 for our Benefice funds, and when I looked at the sales table beforehand, I didn't think there was a lot there. All the home-made cakes and biscuits sold, as well as all my marmalade (made with a slug of Calvados this time!), plus lots of other bits that arrived with each guest. Even the urn of coffee almost ran out - we used a ready-ground Rich Italian blend this time, and it was quite pleasant - no rough edges.

A fairly "normal" Sunday tomorrow, after Rogation and before Pentecost, even though it gets billed at "Sunday after the Ascension", and the Ascension theme is kept. All is ready, and I've been trying to sort out my letter trays tonight, which were crammed full. They look better now, and don't give me a feeling of pressure when I look at them.

Yesterday I ordered Bishop Gene Robinson's book "In the eye of the storm" from Church House Bookshop in London, and it arrived this lunchtime. I was fortunate to get one of their few signed copies, and I'm looking forward to reading it. It will be good to learn how he sees the situation.

Although it's only coming up to 10.00 p.m. here, I'm sitting at the computer yawning merrily, so I think I shall get an early night. Perhaps a mug of hot chocolate to take upstairs ....

Up, up and awaaaaay!

The Ascension window in St. Margaret South Elmham.

Rogation Day (Wednesday)

In-between the sharp showers and sheltered from the cool brisk southerly wind, another glorious Spring day in the country ...

This is well worth reading

Wounded Bird: Caution! - Leave Them Home!

Rogation Day (Tuesday)

Over the 7 years I have been here, this tree has been progressively falling over, and this last winter I did consider having it pulled out since the root ball is so close to the surface on the side of the prevailing wind that, jumping up and down on it, the whole tree moves. However, the mass of Spring blossom shows me that it's still perfectly healthy, and so I'm going to leave it alone.

Rogation Day (Monday)

There are times when the beauty of the Creation hits you between the eyes. I've been sitting at my desk compiling the hymn lists for the Sunday services through 'til June. I got up to make a mug of coffee and looked out of the kitchen window. I had to go and get my camera, as the colours just took my breath away ...

Rogare evening

That was better, 15 adults and 3 children at the Rogation Evensong, and prayers outside in the sunshine (and spots of rain), followed by a Sunday Tea in the Village Hall - sandwiches, rolls, cake tea/coffee. Scrummy!

Rogation Sunday

Time was, when Rogation Sunday meant long country walks and the beating of a healthy young shaver at various points. I mean, look at this image of an urban Rogation, with the congregation standing on the railway lines and the impudent tyke shimmying up a rope. Wouldn't be able to do this now. Health and Safety regulations and fast express trains have taken over.

There's also a general air of apathy about it. Attendances at this morning's services was very reduced - maybe everyone has gone on holiday. No Rogation Walk either this year (we did one last year, and I don't like repeating such events too quickly or else it becomes expected and "tradition"). The Intercessions at the two Eucharist services were said indoors, mainly because of mobility problems in both congregations, but we turned and faced the four points of the compass as we prayed God's blessing on agriculture, fishing, coal and oil production, earth resources, and manufacturing. This afternoon, if the showers hold off, we'll get outside the church door for our "rogare".

Now, I've just got time to put together a Prawn Cocktail for lunch ...

Persuasive Delegation

In a comment on the previous post it was suggested that an Italian Persuasive Delegation be sent to my churchwardenless parish. My immediate thought was to post a link to a video of Monty Python's "Spanish Inquisition" sketch, but then I found this, which I haven't heard in years. Much more appropriate.

Almost there

Another Annual Meeting tonight, and then one more tomorrow evening, and that's it for this year! I've not matched my record of 11.5 minutes set last year for both the Annual Meeting of parishioners and the Annual Parochial Church Meeting, but last night was close.

In small rural parishes such as these where so many of the few people wear several hats, and no-one from the communities attend the meetings, we can zip through the formalities with the minimum of fuss. And since it's just members of the PCC who are there, we never have any business to refer to the PCC for discussion. The Minutes of last year's AGM are now received by the PCC at the normal meeting following and agreed as accurate then, so 12 months later we simply have to adopt them rather than read them all through again and ask the stupid question, "Are they an accurate record?" - as if anyone can remember 12 months on!

I just wish I could get someone to stand as churchwarden at one of our parishes. It's been difficult without one for a year as the Diocese machinery cannot cope with such a vacancy. The AGM for that particular parish is tommorrow. Perhaps God will work a small miracle for us ....

Who is this man?

A certain fellow Blogger living in a lengthy island near New York has pointed out the similarity between the voice of the present Pope and Von Smallhausen in "Allo! Allo!"

Judge for yourselves.

A Fistful of Lardons

Two Mexican bandits have been on the run in the desert for weeks. At death’s door they see a tree in the distance. As they get nearer they see that it's draped with rasher upon rasher of bacon - smoked bacon, crispy bacon, life giving nearly raw bacon, all sorts of bacon.

“Hey! Pepe!” says the first Mexican, "ees a bacon tree! We’re saved!”

So Pepe goes on ahead and runs up to the tree, As he gets within five feet of the tree he's gunned down in a hail of bullets from a group of soldiers hidden there. His friend drops down on the ground and calls across to the dying Pepe, "Pepe! Pepe! Que pasa, hombre?"

With his last breath Pepe calls out, "Ugh! Run, mi amigo, run! Ees not a bacon tree ,ees a ham bush!”

Caring for your mouse

This is (supposedly !) an actual alert to IBM Field Engineers that went out to all IBM Branch Offices.

Mouse Balls Available as FRU (Field Replacement Unit)

Mouse Balls are now available as FRU. Therefore, if a mouse fails to operate or should it perform erratically, it may need a ball replacement. Because of the delicate nature of this procedure, replacement of mouse balls should only be attempted by properly trained personnel.

Before proceeding, determine the type of mouse balls by examining the underside of the mouse.

Domestic balls will be harder and larger than foreign balls.

Ball removal procedures differ depending on the manufacturer of the mouse. Foreign balls can be replaced using the pop-off method. Domestic balls are replaced using the twist off method.

Mouse Balls are usually not static sensitive. However, excessive handling can result in sudden discharge.

Upon completion of ball replacement, the mouse may be used immediately.

It is recommended that each replacer have a pair of spare balls for maintaining optimum customer satisfaction, and that any customer missing his balls should suspect local personnel of removing these necessary items.

Don't blame me ...

... blame Hong Kong Floozy for this one (and the Sick Leave one as well!)

A young Chinese couple gets married. She's a virgin. Truth be told, he is a virgin too, but she doesn't know that. On their wedding night, she cowers naked under the sheets as her husband undresses in the darkness.

He climbs into bed next to her and tries to be reassuring. "My darring", he whispers, "I know dis your firss time and you berry frighten. I pomise you, I give you anyting you want, I do anyting - juss anyting you want. You juss ask... so... whatchu want?" he says, trying to sound experienced and worldly, which he hopes will impress her.

A thoughtful silence follows and he waits patiently (and eagerly) for her request. She eventually shyly whispers back, "I want to try someting I have heard about from other girls... Numbaa 69."

More thoughtful silence, this time from him. Eventually, in a puzzled tone he asks her... "You want...

... Garlic Chicken with steam vegable?"

Chinese Sick Leave

In the absence of Mad Priest over this weekend, I suppose someone has to keep putting up the bad jokes, so here's one that was sent to me this evening:

CHINESE SICK LEAVE: 'I NO COME WORK TODAY!!!'

Hung Chow calls into work and says, 'Hey, I no come work today, I really sick. Got headache, stomach ache and legs hurt, I no come work.'

The boss says, 'You know something, Hung Chow, I really need you today. When I feel like this, I go to my wife and tell her to give me sex. That makes everything better and I go to work. You try that.'

Two hours later Hung Chow calls again. 'I do what you say and I feel great. I be at work soon......... You got nice house.'

Annual exhaustion

Well, after tonight, that will be 7 Annual Meetings down and 5 more to go. I haven't yet broken last year's record of 11.5 minutes for the Annual Meeting of Parishioners AND the Annual Parochial Church Meeting, but that occasion was rather exceptional. At least I've tried to cut down on the report reading this year, with three reports printed out and just being distributed. It's very different out here in the rural wilds where the only people who attend are the PCC anyway. That certainly cuts down discussion as everything has already been debated and decided upon in the normal regular PCC meeetings.

Onward .... folders in hand ....

One or the other

If you're a dog-person, then you won't appreciate this, but if you're a cat-person, as I am, then you'll know that this is exactly how it is ....

He sends forth his lightnings

A fine day, until late afternoon when a large thunderstorm and accompanying hail moved in from the west.

On with the motley

The best-known wearers of motley were jesters of harlequins and the patchwork costume became their standard style of stage dress. The first recorded use of 'on with the motley' is in Pagliacci, an opera by Ruggiero Leoncavallo, 1892. The text was translated into English in 1893 by F. E. Weatherly:

Thou art not a man, thou’rt but a jester!
On with the motley, and the paint, and the powder!
The people pay thee, and want their laugh, you know!
If Harlequin thy Columbine has stolen, laugh Punchinello!
The world will cry, "Bravo!"

Nowadays the phrase is used to mean "Let's continue", and so we do. One of the villages is holding a Coffee Morning, and so I shall traipse along to that, and then return home to start putting together my annual Tax Return.

Friday was a good day however. Two friends came down from Stoke-on-Trent and took me out to lunch at a nearby hostelry. Very nice to be on the receiving end for once.

Sunday I am celebrating but not preaching. Very occasionally I double-up with one of our Readers, and she is preaching for me at both morning Communions. So, no sermon to prepare this week, which has been a bonus.

I've also had a go at booking some holiday time in the diary. It's fine putting lines through the weeks, but I still have to find cover for the Sunday services, and that is not at all easy. Still, there's time to sort that out.

Wonderful April showers pelted us with hail through the afternoon, and I followed a rainbow all the way back from the Evening Office. That, and 3 episodes from the 2nd series of "Battlestar Galactica" as the evening's entertainment, and I retire quite relaxed.

The morning after

Having slept on it, I think what bugs me most about last night is that the person who raised the question whether or not this was trying to get them to agree to the homosexual agenda "by the back door" has so little belief in my integrity that they think I would try and sneak it past them in this way.

But then, the issue is not about my personal feelings - it's far greater than that. As I said to someone over our informal breakfast after this morning's mid-week Eucharist, if the Church of England does go down the path of rejecting difference and signs up for a Covenant that demands conformity in belief and practice, then I shall have to carefully consider if I can stay within it. I've sat on the fence over this issue for over 20 years, and it's starting to get uncomfortable.

Quite an appropriate day for such thoughts - the Lesser festival of William Law, the author of "A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life" and non-Juror.

Unity in Diversity

I took details of the Inclusive Church's campaign "Gift of Communion" to our Joint Benefice Council meeting this evening and asked if the parishes would like to support it. This is a document that states that all who agree with it are of the opinion that the Anglican expression of faith is best found in diversity rather than a single expression of belief and practice, with the idea that the document will be presented to the Bishops at the Lambeth Conference later this year, showing that many churches feel that the Communion is best expressed in loving acceptance of and working with those with whom we disagree. It is a statement that schism is not the way forward for the Communion, and nor is it being true to our historical nature.

I should have given more background, for the question was immediately asked, "What is this group, Inclusive Church?" A swift look at the group's web pages clearly states that it was set up following the Jeffrey John debacle, and that part of its aim is the full inclusion of all people in the life and ministry of the Anglican church irrespective of their sexual orientation. This is set out very clearly in their Declaration of Belief:

We affirm that the Church's mission, in obedience to Holy Scripture, is to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ in every generation.

We acknowledge that this is Good News for people regardless of their sex, race or sexual orientation.

We believe that, in order to strengthen the Gospel's proclamation of justice to the world, and for the greater glory of God, the Church's own common life must be justly ordered.

To that end, we call on our Church to live out the promise of the Gospel; to celebrate the diverse gifts of all members of the body of Christ; and in the ordering of our common life to open the ministries of deacon, priest and bishop to those so called to serve by God, regardless of their sex, race or sexual orientation

The comment was made, and quite rightly so, that any agreement to this campaign should not be seen as assent to the inclusion of gays and lesbians in the ministry. I agreed that each PCC should discuss the issue rather than the Benefice Council making the decision for them.

The background to Inclusive Church's foundation is clearly going to antagonise some people, and make them very unwilling to agree to the Communion document. It will be seen as trying to get agreement to the homosexual lobby "via the back door". However, I don't read this campaign in those terms. The "Gift of Communion" statement is very clear in that it relates solely to unity in diversity as being the best way forward, without being biased one way or the other in the debate. Unfortunately, I don't think it will be seen that way.

I believe that the truth is the truth whoever speaks it. If I believe that the Anglican Communion is a body comprised of difference, that whoever says it, or whatever organisation speaks it, it remains the case.

I wonder if I'm being naive?