Halleluiah!

 

An excellent morning at St Paul's remembering Jesus rising from the dead, death and hell defeated and the potential for life, real life, everlasting given to us.  That said while we struggled through a couple of unknown songs, still unknown to me I must say, such songs reveal the lack of formality at this church, a friendly place that is informaly formal.  The most moving time was the kids search for hidden Easter Eggs.  That lasted about 35 seconds!   These were the 'Real Easter Eggs' produced to show the real meaning of Easter, you possibly didn't see them in the shops as while some like Tesco stock them they are usually hidden away.  Sainsburys neither stocks them or speaks about why though I am told they do Halal chocolate.  I wonder if this is true, you know how tabloids lie to the readers.

One miracle was waking tired and dizzy, unsure whether to go out or not.  Just before time I did rally and made it OK though I felt a bit faint early on.   However when I got home I realised I felt better than I had done for days and walked home quicker than ever having made sure I spoke to all the pretty girls first before leaving.  

While I took a handful of small eggs with me for the kids I myself received nil in reply!  Now I am not one to complain but I gave one to the pretty girls at work, small ones to the kids and my chocolate addiction continues, though sparingly at the moment as I have none to eat.  

Painted and decorated eggs go back a long way, some have been found in Africa dating to 60,000 years ago and the peoples of Mesopotamia and Egypt also saw eggs as a symbol of death and rebirth.  Some think Christians in Mesopotamia picked up the idea of painted eggs from Persia and later through the Orthodox Church it spread into Serbia and Russia and thence to Rome where it was adopted as normal practice.  On occasions symbolic colour is used but today the only symbol we note is the price of the egg.  

When we were young no eggs existed, sugar rationing did not end until 1954 I think and chocolate egg sales were slow to develop at a time when cash was short.  We did however paint hard boiled eggs and roll them down hills in the local park, though why we did this remains a mystery!  These were then scoffed and probably passed off as lunch!  Times were hard.  

I suppose the eggs found today have gone already.  Few will remain until tomorrow and then the kids will be threatened by a dentist visit!  Oh joy!

A Day in the Knees

I have spent the day in cogitating.  My thought processes have been working all day.  This as you may understand is not a regular exercise.  Having to take my creaking knees down to S P's for the midday session I prepared by deep study of the relevant passages, or the few I managed before my head hurt.  I mean I had read about Abraham many times before but early in the morning, that is about nine a.m. it is a little bit of a strain.  The big words in the commentary are easy enough at night when fed and watered and having no football to watch but before the cereal and stale bread it is much harder.  
The world 2000 BC is an interesting time.  People were flocking into cities in what is now southern Iraq three thousand years before this and life then was just as it is today, except there were no laptops or phones.  Writing began 3500 BC roughly and literature such as the epic of Gilgamesh around 2600 BC.  Writing probably began as means of recording sales as populations increased and an 'elite' were taking charge of an urban growth.  Great wealth and that from far distances has been found in 'royal' tombs from this time at Ur.  
War of course had begun by then.  Small tribal clans were usually less intent of robbing peoples far from themselves and it seems to me the increase in population and greater size of cities with associated wealth brought small local disagreements into what we now call national wars.  'The Standard of Ur' shows the result of one such conflict from the winners perspective.  It is recorded that peoples in the south held sway over those in the north of Iraq and faced rebellions around this time.  Boys will be boys.
It's fascinating to conjecture on how such folks lived, the crops, farmed since since 9000 BC, and the number of old folks wandering around grumbling that life was better in the old days.  Human nature does not change and the peoples of Mesopotamia reflect this clearly.

  
However much that interested me the group in which I blethered was less interested especially as most of them knew these things.  Instead we concentrate on Abrams faith in his God and how we ought to react to God today.  The asking of Abram to kill his son, the one through whom the promise was to be fulfilled was interesting, especially when you consider Abrams reaction.  I wonder what went through his head as he went to the chosen mountain?  Whatever God understood his reaction as while he never wished Abram to kill his son he did himself allow his Son to die for us.  How he hurt to save us.  A fathers love is something rarely spoken of in the media today, unless it is some sentimental twaddle.  Fathers are of course the lowest in society according to PC attitudes.
Now I sit with aching knees wondering how to deal with museum work tomorrow.  I mean should I try to stay awake or just doze.... 

Still Dreich

The mist lingers yet.  Dreich indeed are the days so there is little to see outside, not unusual in December.  Sunday saw a Christmas service with lots of kids reading things and making things in church, not deeply spiritual but a laugh for all concerned.  Last night I took my aching knees back down again for the carol service, the usual reading sandwich type of thing, and returned mince pie full and ready to sleep.
A dreich day brightened by the occasions and the people around (all the young women wanted me) and I found several Xmas cards awaiting me.  On top of that all those little jobs that must be done I avoided and hopped it before they began!
I answered the cards received by making use of the web.  A home made card which satisfied all, well not the one who didn't know who I was.  Much easier than scribbling out a hundred cheap cards for folks. 

While mist can lead to nice pictures it is just dreich when the sun fails to break through.  All around is gray and miserable, a bit like the people wandering around town, with added pressure of those last minute gifts required.  
World news is boring, all is being put aside for the Christmas break and journalists forced to work over the period are looking forward to a disaster somewhere (preferably warm) from where they can fill the time.  Otherwise it is shopping trips, weather and road accidents, not great news coverage.  

One good thing today was the Water bill.  This told me I owed the greedy money grabbers no more than a mere 25 pence!  The lowest bill I have received ever.  This of course is because of the monthly direct debit, it cost £205 over the entire year, which would be worse if I bathed more than once in a blue moon.  It never fails to amaze me how much water I waste.   How often the tap is left running, how much is wasted in the kitchen and how deep the bath water tends to be when I am reading my books in there.  From today water, along with electric, will be used sparingly.

Sexist!

Baptism Sunday

In spite of my frazzled brain I took myself to St Paul's today where one chap was being baptised.  
For him this is a big step, made worse by having to speak in public when he is not that sort of chap.
Being from Zimbabwe he brought a lot of friends and family with him and Bishop Rodger having spent time in Africa knew what was required.  He enticed the African element to participate and encouraged, nay forced, the rest to join in, which they did. It's not often you see such dancing in an 
Anglican church setting.  Celebrations over another committed to the Kingdom of Christ Jesus.

Not all were enthusiastic....

Some were determined to play...

Some didn't really notice...

I remained at the rear, taking the odd picture and ensuring I was missed when the offering bags came around...

Today I spent much time sleeping off the fuzzy head to no avail and sending copies of the pictures to those involved.  None have replied as yet which indicates I have sent them at an awkward time or else to the wrong addresses.  
Now what else is happening today?  Well nothing as by the time I finished sending things it's tonight!  Bah!  I'm off to bed...

Ramblings

Today was a day of meetings.
Having spent most of the morning attempting to wake myself from my slumbers I had to march out for a meeting at St Paul's at midday.  I stuffed my face with fattening cakes while there telling myself I would eat no more all week.
I lied.
Our discussion revealed the details of how most of the folks there landed up as Christians, and how interesting each persons story was.  I kept quiet at this point, no point in boring them when they were happy.  I avoided grasping a loose 'Bakewell tart' as i left intending to keep to my promise and walked along the road enjoying the sunshine and contemplating what I had heard.  How these folks always either teach me something or make me feel inadequate when I hear their tales.

The museum discussion was straight forward.  Exhibitions, changes in the shop, plans for the future, the usual stuff all accompanied by Ginger Cake which I accidentally shovelled down my throat.  It is good for you they say!  Naturally I said little here and let my good friend Peggy do all the talking, something she is able to do well, and I just nodded in agreement courteously.  
Each of the 'top dogs' spoke of their work, our accomplishments and what they required from us.  I kept quiet here.  One thing I do think will be good is getting people to write or even better record their stories for history.  We do have one audio CD of folks telling their experiences of work  in the town and (£2 to you) and getting them to reminisce on their past lives, good and bad, would be a wonderful idea.

The good thing is I miss out the papers when I am busy.  I therefore do not get worried by the pap they offer us.  However I note the PM is going ahead (apparently) with 'Brexit' even though no-one is too sure what it means and the Chancellor man has rubbed George Osborne's face in it as politely as  a Conservative Chancellor can, with a smile.  The Cameron/Osborne past is so foul in the eyes of the Tory Party that a video of Cameron's time was greeted in stony silence, most unusual for this party.  Now he is of to make money, I bet he makes less than he thinks he is worth.

Another Monday

I was surprised by the heat as I wandered out this lunchtime.  It appears we have anther short summer this week.  Hot tomorrow then temperatures descending lower and lower until we reach the ice age of winter again, probably next Monday!  I was off to the church for a discussion on outreach, with lunch provided to ensure people turned up, and a good time it was at that.  Naturally  I talked to much and said too little but what do you expect?  This is my family heritage!  Some years ago when researching the family line I was in contact with someone somewhere in Aussiland, in our conversations by email, passed on to others over there, I mentioned my dad and aunt disagreeing over the date of their mums death.  I pointed out one said it was before the end of the war, the other claiming it was afterwards.  Both, following family tradition were determined they were correct!   A third Aussie chimed in after this saying "We are related, all my bloody lot are like that!"
For that reason I never go to Australia!

So the Cameron era has ended finally.  'Good bye' is all I can say to the worst PM this nation has ever had, and we have had some dumbo's right enough.  'Don't slam the door as you slink out' is another. He leaves for several reasons but money making is one of them clearly, just sitting on the back benches supporting the present PM who has made it clear his 'Posh Boys' policy was not right and she is working hard to eradicate almost all he has done is another good reason for him to head for the money.  An ex-PM sitting on backbenches is in a difficult position, anything he says will be taken as support or opposition of the present PM, and as her policies are very different from his, in word if not yet in deed, then he cannot really say much at any time.
In my view he is not much of a loss, Osborne may go next although they do not want by-elections at this time, his job is only on the backbenches and never will Theresa May the present PM allow him back!  How different it would have been if they had just gone six years ago....

 'Road works today' said the sign.

   

Still Nothing Happened

Quite why people make resolutions which they are not going to keep amazes me.  Those who decide to diet and succeed do so by great effort of willpower and we know how easily that is lost.  The decision not to decide on a resolution is however one I have managed to keep year after year.

Wandering down the road this morning I was concentration on avoiding the puddles as the rain began once again and failed to notice the bog police dog handlers van I was walking in front off.  I kept going but his face expressed a degree of surprise I thought. 
Soaked by the time I reached the church I was glad the heating was on to dry me out.  I am getting to like this strange Anglican Kirk, in spite of their foibles and the many mistakes that routinely occur.  In fact it seems to my way of thinking to make the place more homely rather than inept.  These are everyday human beings who have been found by Jesus not the perfect kinds who sometime appear on the screen.  I am beginning to like them and developing some things about me that need improvement.  I think however the 'Wee Frees' will never let me through their door if I am ever back up in the rain soaked land.
Talking of which I hurried home in the downpour to see the St Johnstone v Aberdeen game - this was postponed - the pitch was waterlogged!!!!

As is normal Scotland takes two days at New Year, with Friday being the first that means Monday is a day off for the majority of people.  Here in the soft south they do not do this and tomorrow, the fourth, is for the peoples around me a 'back to work' experience.
Groans can be heard from neighbours, screams emit from houses around the place as recognition of the end of the week long break has ended comes home to roost.  Alarm clocks are being set alongside some words best kept from children, and work outfits are being laid out in places where they can be found in the early morning darkness.  
I however will be remaining at home.  (Insert smug grin here)
Now I have nothing against work, I was involved in one way or another in such activity for around forty years, and take pleasure in watching others perform such work always willing to offer advice on how the job should be done exactly.  Such aid is not always considered helpful I note, still it's a giggle innit?
If the weather is good I might cycle past the industrial estate and wave cheerily at anyone I know.  If not I will just stand at the window early on and wave my coffee cup at passersby, that usually brings a response, especially when it's raining.
"Ah well," said Zebedee, "time for bed."

Sunday Before Christmas

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,

earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;

snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,

in the bleak midwinter, long ago. 

Now just hold there a minute.  It is indeed winter here in the northern hemisphere but a historical minded type might wish to indicate that Jesus more likely arrived in the Springtime.  I say this because one reason I wear a 'Bah Humbug!' hat is my antipathy towards historical falsehoods and the facile jollity of the Christmas season.  Jesus came to earth indeed but what we see around us does not reveal him or his reason for coming. 
Somewhere in the past a someone thought he was being clever in deciding to 'Christianise' the midwinter festival, a time of jollity, hedonism and many booze ups, this was supposed to clean things up.  What has happened?  Christmas has become a time of jollity, hedonism and many booze ups!  Scotland at least kept the two separate leaving Christmas as a quieter time and the booze and hedonism for the New Year celebration, both just a time to rejoice that Spring was coming once again.  Some like to call this the Roman 'Saturnalia' but for those in norther climes this event goes way back into prehistory when the shortest day of the year is celebrated, and who can blame them?  Tomorrow is the 21st and the shortest day and I am glad!  However Christmas has been placed here instead of Springtime so we may as well get on with it now.
   

The need to attend a census in Bethlehem Josephs family home meant a long walk to the south for the Nazareth based pair.  Christmas cards may show romantic drawings of a woman on a donkey led by a caring husband but in truth if they had a donkey, which I doubt as they could only afford the cheapest sacrifice after the birth, if they had a donkey the man would have sat on it, she after all is only a woman.  

Once at the destination the pair would have arrived at the family home seeking the patriarch and somewhere to have the child, no 'Inn' as they did not exist however the region does contain rock that is porous which leaves many caves often used even today as barns or stables.  It is most likely Jesus entered the world there.  Out of the way from the family members, probably overcrowded indoors so this would have been better for Mary rather than a mob in a building.  Mary herself may well have been merely 14 years of age as that was a common age to marry, Joseph probably around the 20 years mark, just as well no politically correct social workers were around to ensure she was 'kept safe' at the time.

It is however interesting that once the child was born and wrapped as was the fashion in strips of cloth and placed in the feeding trough used by any animals around, the 'manger' it is then shepherds appear.  These rough men, carrying with them the odour of country living as well as sheep, arrive to bow down to this child.  For the parents, one visited by an angel, the other informed by dream that God was at work, this must have been quite an event.  Just what was going through their heads as these men worshipped and departed singing praise to God? 

As if this was not enough Magi make an entrance.  Forget three men on camels pointing at a star having travelled several hundred miles supplied by a pack of sandwiches and a vacuum flask of coffee, these men must have had a sizeable entourage with them, donkeys, camels, servants all hanging about outside.  This happened during the night, a time when people stayed firmly indoors, so it is no wonder no others noticed.  First shepherds bowing to the child, then gifts of Frankincense, myrrh and gold from people from the top end of society, the parents wonder must have grown.  

Then their sleep disturbed by Joseph being informed to take the child and flee to Egypt.  

What a night.  Two young people, a baby arriving is hard enough let alone when forced round the corner out of the way.  This is then followed by appearances of worshipping shepherds and Magi and the warning to run.  Egypt is a long walk from Bethlehem and these two must have been somewhat tired by it all.  

Note that at no time did yellow arcs range over their heads in the stable.  No mention is made of other animals like donkeys or cattle, however they would at least make the place warm.  No sign of 'Hollywood' lighting all around or fancy camera angles as in the picture at the top, the nearest I could find to the real thing, no crooning carols, no 'white Christmas' and definitely no 'Santa Claus!' 

This was the real world.

Today we see refugees in similar straits yet we often find the media implying they are scroungers, even if they have lost houses, possessions and family members through travel problems, war and death.  How many attend Carol services tonight yet would refuse an immigrant in need a bed?  how many love the 'magic of Christmas' yet ignore the reality of the God who entered with angel voices reflecting God's joy that salvation had arrived and would some years later be accomplished by a horrifying death on a cross for all who would believe?

The tinsel Christmas is not one for me, the real Christmas is deeper and harder and the choice it forces us to make one many run from to what they consider an easier life, one that fails ultimately.

Highs & Lows

This morning took me down to the lower end of town to the lovely, but not architecturally grand, St Paul's Church.  The Church of England has some strange people manifest within its borders but this church is not one of them. Here we find a warm atmosphere and people who know what they are talking about.  I looked forward to shuffling down the road as I enjoy this place.  I was as I expected not disappointed.  With talk of a light coming into the darkness, it was what Anglicans call 'the first Sunday of advent,' and with kids lighting a candle, appropriate songs, a laugh, cheery talk, and the presence of Jesus it was an enjoyable morning.  The friendly people are the reason to be here.  The church died for a while but under a female vicar (Tsk Heresy!) it has revived.

When I left the sun was shining the sky was blue, even the temperature was almost bearable, and my heart was light.  I even smiled at the passing kiddies rather than kick them into the bushes.  Home for dinner that today I did not grill.  Yes indeed yesterday I placed two items into the oven I had previously switched on and left it.  Some time later I began to notice a strange odour in the room.  "Dearie me," I thought, "The lass next door is burning something." It took me a few minutes longer to notice it was my smoke alarm that was beginning to yell out!   Bah!
Today the lunch was not burnt, just rubbish!

The joy of the morning received a shock just after three in the afternoon.  At that time I realised we were playing the best team in Scotland and Gollum was refereeing!  Now Gollum has refereed the last six Celtic games at Tynecastle I hear and managed to send off three Hearts players while doing so, he even gave them a very soft penalty while not giving a glaring one to us!  Thus I was in a great deal of fear and trepidation while I watched.
I need not worry, within ten minutes he had sent off our captain, just after half time he gave them a non penalty and cautioned anyone including the manager who dared to ask how he got his job when he DID NOT KNOW WHAT HE WAS DOING! 
My spiritual high sank.
Teeth gnashed together, and this is not wise at my age, passions arose and spilled out, loving my neighbour does include informing them of their faults, and I confess I did this in a full and hearty manner!  
What had looked like being a tight hard fought game died within ten minutes, the Hearts players gave up as they knew whatever happened the ref would work against them so what was the point?
If only the club had the guts to stand up to this.  

I now sit here in the dark, the candle has gone out, fuming gently, wishing the dinner had been better, struggling to find anything worth commenting on as there is no news.  I noticed the BBC World Service man Menendez was asking people to send tweets of any news out there, somewhat tongue in cheek. The news folks do not see news around them only wars, fights, bad news and terror, nothing else sells it appears.  The weekend, especially Sunday, is a poor day for news.  The media need a war to erupt, a disaster to occur before they think it worth reporting.  They will not find much to talk about on this site today will they....?

Waterloo Station

Waterloo Station boasts very this impressive entrance which doubles as a memorial to the railwaymen who served during the Great War.  A fantastic offering for the many men who fell, their names are listed just inside the entrance.  The armies in France required professional railway operators specifically for the British forces.  These ensured the goods and men reached the intended area on mainline and light railways throughout the British lines.  Hard work, under fire often, just as dangerous as well as those who served in the army directly.  The picture is difficult to obtain because of the road traffic behind.  Most using this station will enter and leave by the underground entrances rather than this door, I wonder how many who do come this way stop to look?  

In spite of carrying a ludicrously heavy bag I wandered through the maze of tunnels under the street to the embankment in an attempt to obtain a picture or two.  Naturally the drizzle came down, the place was crowded with damp tourists getting in the way, I was tired, afraid of missing the train connection and found the whole experience of being back in London quite unsettling.  For 21 years I lived here, I thought I knew the place and was disconcerted to discover how my unfit hulk could no longer run about like I used to here.  What would have taken ten minutes now appeared to take for ever!  The bag did not help of course.

This colossal brute was not here in my day.  Who dumped this here?  And why is there a long, damp, queue waiting in the drizzle to climb aboard and slowly go around in a circle aboard this creature?  A view from high up can be a marvellous experience but I wonder about being trapped in a space bubble while doing so myself.  It seems somewhat out of place against the huge imperialist buildings and associated history all around it.  

I made it to Waterloo on the two hour and five minute journey from Bournemouth.  Because of engineering work on the line between here and Poole the trains were often using the wrong platforms.  This meant I followed instructions on one platform and almost ended up aboard this train which landed in Manchester!  Good job that porter was there!  The difference in the people aboard the intercity trains and those on the underground remains notable.  While there are some similarities the step down from the train to the tube is like entering a dark world, a darkness not caused by being in a tunnel either.  I'm just glad I used the new Jubilee line and not the old Northern!  Could I live there now?  Even if I had the money I wonder if I could cope.

.

St Paul's

Henry Dawson painted this view of St Paul's high above the Thames in 1877.  The river is full of craft of various types. Behind the artist many large ships would be unloading, lighters would be transferring goods from ship to shore, and I suspect that even at that late date some 'taxi' boat still crossed the river in places, not all bridges having been built by then I guess.  I say 'guess as I am to lazy busy to check for myself.  Until the early sixties when the dockers lost out to cheaper, more profitable, and less likely to be pilfered container ships the Thames was a busy, dirty river.  Today a few barges pass by, the tourist boats rip off the clients, and some private craft are seen.  The warehouses are trendy flats, office blocks avoid taxpaying as much as possible and the view of St Paul's is still possible, if you find the few places where a gap in the building reaching for the sky allows this. Dawsons view is better than today's, but the lifestyle of the people, as well as their health thanks to the NHS must be considerably better!    


.

Church Window

I like this picture. Not just because I took it, but I also had a go at printing a bigger version of the thing and it worked! I was sitting in a church which had been destroyed by the Luftwaffe dropping incendiary bombs on it in 1940. Much of the City of London was damaged at that time and not all was rebuilt. For whatever reason this building was left in ruins, only the tower remaining standing, and it became, like many others, a park, ideal for the city workers to take a break in summer. It has been turned into a rose garden with plants filling in the spaces once occupied by pews and it looks very nice indeed. At least it did when I visited many years ago (not during the blitz!). This was the Franciscan Church of Greyfriars, established in 1225. Many of the rich and famous were buried in the old church which suffered during the 'Great Fire of London' in 1666. Christopher Wren designed a new church, opened in 1704, and no, I was not at that service.

When there one long ago summer day I took the photo with my rusty, sorry trusty Minolta, and was well pleased with it. Cynics point out all sorts of faults, but just because they know what they are talking about does not, in my humble opinion (and humble it is I have been informed) mean they know what they are talking about does it! The spire of St Paul's Cathedral stands tall in the background, a place I once clambered up to in the late seventies when entrance was cheap, and enjoyed the view. Once there the sightseer has a vista of the whole of London, and it is big! London actually lies in a bowl of sorts, and the ground rises slightly as it disappears into the distance. Looking to the far south on a rise in the far, far distance stands the BBC aerial reaching several hundred feet into the air. It is said that a female (isn't it always?) American tourist was heard to ask, "Is that the Eiffel Tower?"