More reflections

It must be the time of year for remembering. Perhaps it has something to do with the end of Summer and the approach of Autumn. The warmth lessens, the leaves start to turn, there's a sense of change in the air.

Other Bloggers are also looking back. In the Hamptons on Long Island there's an appreciation of more gentle road signs when people knew how to behave on the road. Grandmere Mimi is looking back on the New Orleans she knew and lost to Hurricane Katrina.

And as I sliced the softened oranges, lemons and grapefruit for my Three Fruit Marmalade, and put it to boil in the stove, I was thinking of the ways in which my home town of Brighton has changed, and how much of what I grew up with is no longer there.

My private primary school has become a girls-only part of Brighton College. Brighton, Hove & Sussex Grammar School became a VIth Form College many years ago. Brighton Technical College is now part of a University. And then as I flew further afield: Northumberland College of Education was swept away in reforms soon after the 1970-73 intake left. Moorlands Bible College has dropped the "Bible" part of its name, disposed of the phallic logo, and continues its mission. Salisbury & Wells Theological College has, as mentioned in the previous post, closed its doors to that form of Christian training and become Sarum College instead.

Of all those places, the Bible College is the only one that is still recognisable, and I don't particularly want to return there. I've moved on, and so have they.

And it's the same with my home town. All the shops I grew up with in the Kemp Town area of Brighton have long gone. Mr. Mockford the greengrocer, with his beetroot always on the boil behind a wooden partition. The "Home & Colonial Stores" with the tins of broken biscuits. "Webbs Stores" and its flavoured milk machine where we would buy a carton to slurp on the way down to the beach. "Barnard's", the little TV and electrical shop that had a model railway running around its window. "Fogel's Patisserie" that, being Jewish, was open on Sunday, and from where we would get cream cakes for tea. The Post Office in the old Georgian gymnasium building is now just offices. And the small corner off-licence, "Munnery's", where I worked on and off for 11 years has been closed for a decade or more, and the shop turned into town house accomodation.


The skyline of the new city is completely different from that which I used to see from the top window of our house. We had two open piers. The block of "Sussex Heights" was the tallest thing for miles. And of course, Black Rock has disappeared under the Brighton Marina construction. You can no longer walk from Brighton to Ovingdean Gap and round the corner to Rottingdean and back. That was a wonderful Sunday afternoon walk, and I had an unforgettable wander along part of it one Tuesday afternoon when I was about 13.


One image of Brighton comes back to my mind again and again. When I was about 12 I had a vivid dream of the sea rising up and flooding the town. I was standing in the bay windows of the top floor of the house looking out over the rooftops, and the waves were rushing towards me and breaking on the windows. This was long-before warnings about global warming and rising sea levels. It was long before stories of Meteor impacts and tidal waves. And this same image is as strong with me now as it ever was. At the time I even wrote some of the dream down, and I still have it packed away somewhere.

Premonition? Imagination? I certainly enjoyed the storms that would sweep in, and I would go down to the sea-front and dodge the waves. Time will tell.

The past is another country

At dusk, as I sat in our old Priory church for the Evening Daily Office, I had an intense experience of being in the Private Prayer chapel in the south transept of Salisbury Cathedral.

Twenty-five years ago I began the habit of going across from the Theological College at irregular intervals to sit in silence in that small enclosed chapel and think and pray and meditate before the glorious stained glass window. The bustle of the tourists making their way around the main body of the church was insignificant, and I was able at those times to engage in real heart-searching and an openness to where I might be led as my ministry began.

In the chancel of the rural Priory this evening I became aware of how that world has disappeared. I would not be getting up to walk down through the spacious Cathedral nave and out of the great West doors. I would not be walking across the Close back to the beautiful College building where the bar would be open prior to Supper.

And even if I could get back there, the College has also changed. No longer a place of clerical training, the Entrance Hall has been re-modelled and the wonderful stairwell truncated. The lecture rooms are changed, the Common Room no longer a place of talk and reading, and the new chapel taken over as an expansion of the library. Even the old chapel has become less atmospheric than it was.


You can never go back, and I know that. But just sometimes the loss of what was becomes tangible. Salisbury was the pinnacle of my exploration. It was if I had climbed Mount Everest, and ever since then it has been the journey down. Mountain tops are places for experiencing the holy. Sinai. Tabor. Revelation and Transfiguration. But each time the people had to come back down into the world.


The understanding of this doesn't stop the memories though.

Seasonal confusion

Here in East Anglia over the last few days it really hasn't known if it's Summer or Autumn. This was 5.45 p.m. today, 23rd August. It should be late afternoon summer sun. Instead we have thick drizzle and mist. And the leaves have started falling!

"The old home town ...

... looks the same
as I step down from the train ...."
etc.

And it does in this short film from the You Tube site.

Drizzly Monday

A damp old Monday today, so a little taste of Italian sunshine for this evening's meal - pasta and meatballs in a tomato and marscapone sauce. Okay, I know it's not haute cuisine, but it's cheap and easy, and I feel like it .... not cheap and easy, but pasta and meatballs. Though I ought to admit that the meatballs are not Italain but Swedish, coming from the Ikea store in Milton Keynes. Another fall at the final fence of the Culinary Cup.

Match of the Day (2)

Responding to the request for the football references I used in the recent wedding ....

I welcomed people into the stands, both the home team supporters (bride) and the away team supporters (groom) and hoped there would be no trouble between them. Then the first half "kicked off", through to the Signing of the Registers which was "half-time".

The Marriage Certificate was handed to the bride in an envelope marked "Final Score Certificate" and which was decorated with a picture of a footballer. I apologised to the supporters that there had been no trays of oranges to pass around during the half-time break, but that they would have made too much of a mess on the church floor.

The second half then began (I had thought of bringing a whistle and sounding it, but decided against it). At the end the couple walked out to the theme music from the BBC's "Match of the Day" played with some skill by the organist. Again, I had considered giving the couple a football to dribble down the aisle on their way out, but thought better of it.

Fairly mild really, but how does one compete with a bride who arrives at the church in a "Green Goddess" fire engine?

The greasy spoon

Didn't throw anything into the oven. On opening it I discovered that I hadn't scraped it out following a couple of rather nice pork chops that were grilled earlier in the week. It took me 15 minutes, lots of hot water, de-greasing spray, and an old dishcloth, to clean it! So after that I delved into the freezer, located a tub of left-over home-made chicken stroganoff, threw that into the microwave, and then prepared some cous-cous. It was quite tasty.

And I had two large glasses of shandy!

Match of the Day

7.40 p.m. and just home from the rehearsal for a wedding tomorrow in one of our village churches. This Saturday is the start of the UK Football season (yawn!), so the couple are going for a football motif at the close of their ceremony, having decided to walk out to the theme music of the BBC's "Match of the Day". The score took some finding, but I eventually tracked a copy down, at a price of £12.

There's a lot of talk in the press at the moment of how the average cost of a wedding these days is £20,000. All I can say is that we, the church, don't see much of that. Without the music score, the service tomorrow, use of building, organist, me as the officiant, and the piece of paper to say that they're married, is just under £300. What the heck to do couples spend the other £19,700 on? The reception can't cost that much. I suppose when you include all the dresses, gifts for the bridesmaids etc: it can swiftly mount up, but I don't know how couples afford it. Of course, the answer is that they can't, and it all goes on plastic, so they start their married life together in debt. The old idea of actually saving up for something has long gone.

So I don't feel guilty about asking for the church fees. They are a miniscule portion of the total that will be spent. But in small parishes like ours, struggling to pay our way, they are a valuable bonus.

I shall do my "commercials" tomorrow as usual - welcoming the guests into the parish church, asking them to turn off their mobile phones, and reminding them about the Gift Aid envelopes and that there will be a plate at the back of the church as they leave for their donations towards the ongoing work of that church.

But for now, I shall throw something into the oven for supper, jot down a few ideas for football puns in the service (1928 BCP), and pour myself a large shandy.

As if that wasn't frightening enough ...

Being consigned to the Hufflepuff House at Hogwarts is fairly unsettling. Even worse is to see myself as a character in "The Simpsons"!



And just what the hell am I doing shopping at the "Kwik-E-Mart"? And why have I removed my clerical collar?

The first person to suggest that I'm going browsing amongst the top-shelf magazines will be made the subject of my first "Cursing" class at Hogwarts!

Get Simpsonized here

I'm not sure if this is good or bad

I took the Hogwarts "Sorting Hat ceremony.




I'm a Hufflepuff!

55 years ago today

An ending ....


and a beginning ....

Aaaargh

Incey Wincey Spider
Climbed up the water spout
Down came the rain
And washed the spider out.
Out came the sun
and dried up all the rain
So Incey Wincey Spider
Climbed the spout again.



How did the damn thing get into the sink when the plug was in the hole?

Lammas Day

August 1st, "Hlaef-mass" and the start of the harvest. Signs of late summer with noise and dust as the wheat is cut. And another day without rain!

Close every door to me

No, not a song from "Joseph" and his amazing technicolour underpants, but an instruction for home this evening.




Someone, nearby, has been spreading something abominable on his fields. The smell is vile, and all the windows are closed despite it being warm. Even so, the occasional stench wafts through the living room.

Those who proclaim the perfection of vegetarianism conveniently forget that their cereal and root crops get their nutrients from animal crap. Highly organic, but hardly meat-free! (And that's to say nothing of those vegans who are now refusing to kiss meat-eaters, saying they couldn't possibly touch lips that have chewed meat!)

Ah, the joys of rural life.

A blessing?

There are some days when you just shouldn't get out of bed in the morning.

I was up today at 6.30 a.m. as for the first time I had put an 8.00 a.m. service down on the rota. Being a 5th Sunday of the month, it's our "Benefice Sunday" when we usually only have a single morning service and an evening service, but for a change I had put in an extra early morning event at one of the smaller villages. Even though I organise the rotas, up until 7.30 a.m. I was convinced it was an 8.00 a.m. Holy Communion from the BCP. Then I did a final check, and realised that in fact it was publicised as a Said Morning Prayer. A qick change of robes and off I went.

I arrived back home at 8.35 a.m. and knew I had a bit of time before going off to the main Eucharist, so I had a coffee and put some baking potatoes in a slow oven. Then I was out by 9.10 a.m. arriving at the village church at 9.27 a.m. where I was greeted by the churchwarden asking "Is it that time already?" I then remembered that instead of the service being at our usual time of 9.45 a.m., on a Benefice Sunday it's at 10.30 a.m. A cup of coffee in her kitchen followed.

As the service neared its close I knew that there was a baptism anniversary to mention for a little girl, so after the final hymn I invited her to come out and light a candle and take it back to her seat. Then I said the Dismissal sentence and walked down the back. As people gathered for the refreshments someone remarked to me that I had forgotten the Blessing. So all left the church un-blessed.

It can only get better.

Release valve

Since I took the decision two days ago not to submit my final essay for the short OU Course on "Writing Family History" I have felt less pressured. As I explained to the tutor, I'm not studying for a degree, so the loss of the miniscule 10 points by not completing the course is of no importance. What has been good is the course content itself. I have learnt quite a bit about interpreting the bare Census data, and about how to put it into context with what was going on in society in general at the time. I also thoroughly enjoyed the Block about looking at old photographs and reading the information they contain. So doing the course has been valuable in that it has increased my knowledge. What my daily work did not leave time for was the creation of a 5000 word essay. No big deal. I have all the course papers, I can always reprise the study.

Re-creating virtuality

I have had to spend the better part of the day re-creating the Benefice website since the Site Host failed to inform me that the domain name was due for renewal. The first I learnt of it was when the papers arrived from Nominet telling me I had 10 days to renew at a cost of over £90 or else lose the domain name. Looking on the Host site I was unable to renew the domain there as it kept telling me it was "unavailable". A quick check of the site showed it was down and replaced by a "holding" page.

So I signed us up for another domain, paid the two year fee, and paid the hosting fee, all for an initial cost of £24. A bit cheaper than £90!

So our churches can now be found on
www.suffolksaints.info/
which is a far better name than .org.uk

All things work together for the good ......

Clarity of vision

My goodness - films are wonderful on the new screen, and even TV programmes have an extra pzazz. Mind you, I'm not so sure about the BBC News ..... I could see every pimple on the presenter's neck and forehead. Quite put me off my tuna bap.

I hate spending money

I have just had to transfer several hundred pounds from my savings to my cheque account to cover the purchase of a new television. The old one had never been right from the beginning, and I should have done something about it when it was still under warranty, but I never got round to it. The screen had developed two large kidney-shaped colour distortions, one on either side, which made watching it something of a kaleidoscopic experience. People with purple faces on one side speaking to puce-green ones opposite. Landscapes with brown patches of grass, and skies that would not have looked out of place in the 1950's film "Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea" when the Van Allen radiation belt around the earth caught fire.

Over the years these patches on the tube had gradually become worse, and then, in the last couple of weeks the set had developed the annoying habit of turning itself off. At first I thought that I had accidentally touched the remote control "Off" button, but then it started happening more frequently until, three nights ago, I attempted to watch a film, and managed only four and a half minutes of it with the set turning itself off every 40 seconds or so. I then had to wait about two minutes before the power would re-connect and the "stand-by" light come on.



So this morning it has gone to the waste centre, and in its place, courtesy of Mr Tesco, stands a flat-screen, HD ready, Freeview incorporated, black beauty. It took some time, with assistance, to set up, but the image is wonderfully clear, and it's quite exciting to see people with normal-coloured flesh tones.

I should have known better when I bought the previous set. I went to a well-known (in the UK) electronics chain whose name I won't mention - (but if I say Madras, Korma and Tandoori and ask for the word that describes these types of food - let the reader understand) - and bought their own brand as it was cheaper than the others. I've had this brand before and in my experience the quality has always been lacking. So, no-one to blame but myself. Hopefully, Mr. Tesco will prove to be more reliable.

Doh!

Now I like that ....



And all done with washable paint. The Cerne Abbas giant has never looked so good.

I pinched this image from "Mad Priest's" blog. There's great stuff there.