Eliza does very little

500 Days of Ranting

2012-01-25T23:18:00.000Z

Nil desperandum readers, I'm not proposing a 500 day rant - promise! (Though actually, thinking about it I have a couple of other rants brewing, but perhaps I'll save them for a lot later...)

A couple of weeks ago I gave in and tried watching a new show that I'd resisted - despite it containing many of the things I like in televisual entertainment: intelligent humour, hot men and dorkiness. The major stumbling block for me was Zooey Deschanel, an actress who is (at least in the world of Wittertainment) the definition of 'kooky', particularly (but not exclusively) as a result of her role in (500) Days of Summer.

However, a friend insisted that it was worth watching New Girl and, once I realised it was under half an hour, I thought I'd give it a shot. Episode 1 was quite pleasing; by the end of episode 2 I realised I actually cared about the characters and was actually noting when episode 3 would air. At the end of the third instalment, I tweeted: It's taken 3 episodes of New Girl, but I think I'm now ready to forgive Zooey Deschanel for the hideousness that was 500 Days of Summer. The use of 'hideousness' proved to be rather divisive amongst my followers - some agreed, others came to the film's defence.

Let me share my case for the prosecution:

When the film came out, I was keen to see it. It seemed like just the kind of thing a hopeless romantic like me would want to watch, plus it had the fabulous Joseph Gordon-Levitt in it, who I've loved ever since 3rd Rock from the Sun. I distinctly remember a male friend (whose opinion in films I value) telling me that he enjoyed it and he was sure it was my kind of thing, yet somehow I didn't get round to watching it for well over a year. In fact, I think it was my first rental when I joined LoveFilm.

I was massively disappointed.

It's not often that I viciously hate a film, but this is high on my least-liked list. On the plus side, it's well shot; includes an excellent karaoke scene; and is yet another film that highlights my need to get myself to San Francisco asap. However, its (many) negatives outweighs these (few) positives:

The female lead - the 'Summer' of the title - is a mean, manipulative woman who exploits a man who's hopelessly in love with her. She leads him on multiple times and breaks his heart again and again.
The male lead is, quite frankly, an idiot. Summer makes it clear on other occasions (when she's not leading him on) that she's not interested, yet still he spends 500 days obsessing over her.
At the end of the film, when he's finally gotten over Summer, he meets a girl called...Autumn. Honestly! I ask you.

Several good female friends agreed with me that it was dreadful, yet a couple of male friends insisted that they'd liked it. Thinking about it, these guys are both hopeless romantics who would definitely emulate the film's plot given half a chance, they are both idiots. Pre-Twitter debate, I'd decided that men loved it while women hated it - but those that decried my verdict on it were all female. Those that came to its defence were male. Curious. However, I must at least be right in my opinion as I discovered that Mark Kermode also disliked it - so I must be right!

Anyway, a warning: if you are a hopeless romantic, yet like to be treated fairly, with respect and without manipulation, don't watch this film - you'll only get angry and want to throw things at the screen. If you like a bit of mindless entertainment and have been missing quirky, apartment-based comedy since the end of Friends, then watch New Girl - episode 4's on at 9pm on Friday night.

Baptismal Fashion

2012-01-23T20:09:00.000Z

As seems to be the way with my life at the moment, I find myself doing things I don’t expect from one week to the next. Last Tuesday, it was suggested I should be the female assistant in the baptisms that were taking place the following Sunday. I leapt at the opportunity - not only would it be a privilege to be involved in a life changing experience for two members of the congregation, but I’d finally get to set foot in a baptistry. [We who are baptised as infants are often slightly jealous of those that get dunked as adults.]

I spent quite a bit of the days that followed thinking about Sunday night. I’d love to say that this was entirely a praying for the candidates type of thinking, but it wasn’t. Mostly, I was thinking about the clothing implications of the occasion. I’d never even done the swimming badge that involves several lengths clad in pyjamas, so this whole wearing clothes in water thing was quite a daunting prospect.

The (male) member of the clergy who had asked me to take on this role had emphasised one crucial fashion rule for baptisms: don’t wear white, or any other colour that goes see-through. I knew enough to be aware of this already, and I was also aware that denim (or other, similarly heavy fabrics) wouldn’t work either. But other issues remained...

An added complication was the fact that a Bishop was going to be present (for confirming purposes) and the clergy would be robed - therefore I’d need to look smart on a par with them. As I began thinking about skirts and dresses, I realised that certain skirts would simply inflate in water, which wouldn’t be a particularly appropriate look. (By Thursday this was no longer an issue - sadly the Bishop was ill and the confirmations had to be postponed.)

Logically, in order to solve this fashion dilemma, I approached Twitter for advice. Useful responses were received, but the most helpful (from a female vicar) threw me into a panic that I never quite managed to resolve.The advice was as follows:

“Black leggings and black top that isn’t too think so that it won’t stick to you outrageously when wet! Sports bra with padding too!”

Leggings I’d already hit upon as a genius idea. Should you ever be engaged in such a dampening activity, wear them (if you’re female, obviously). They’re easy to remove, won’t weigh as much as jeans, and ensure decency even under floating skirts. A black top was also sensible - it wouldn’t go see through and can easily be layered under other clothing. Plus, who doesn’t own a black top?

As for the padded bra, well, that opened up a whole can of worms that I hadn’t even considered. Water can be chilly and so can churches (especially in January), and that can do unfortunate things to your (to quote Ross from Friends) ‘nippular area’ - which would look quite inappropriate when having to man-handle people in water.

The thing is, I don’t own a padded bra. Once you’re beyond the letter D in the bra sizing alphabet, you really don’t need the extra padding. At first I thought perhaps it wouldn’t matter, that I’d get away with my regular underwear. Then things got a bit chilly in my flat and I realised that it could potentially be an issue. Even worse, a phone call to my sister a matter of hours before the service ended with her exclaiming that if I didn’t have one, I ought to wear my padded swimsuit under my clothes. (Not an option - my sporty swimsuit has no padding; the one that does has a tied halterneck and would be difficult to conceal under ‘normal’ clothing.) I considered fashioning my own bra padding out of tissues, but obviously, such padding wouldn't last long in damp conditions.

In the end, it was all fine. Well, the church nearly burnt down the night before, thanks to a malfunctioning extension cable attached to the pool’s heating element, but generally it was fine. I learnt a few useful things that I’ll bear in mind for next time:

People are very heavy when wet (and relaxed) in water.
Depending on the water level, you might not get as totally wet as you think you will.
Standing in wet clothes as people pray for the recently baptised is a thoroughly chilling experience.
Some men think so little of their footwear that they’re willing to stand in several feet of water wearing them.
Baptising people is really rather exciting.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll see about acquiring a padded bra.

Friday Fun with a song and a dance (or two...)

2012-01-20T07:18:00.000Z

The last fortnight has been all about the televisual delight that is BBC 4's three-part series entitled The Story of Musicals. Who wouldn't want to devote three hours of their life to the story of how the British musical overcame the might American Broadway in the 1960s; went on to dominate it in the 1980's; and how it got its come-uppance in the late 1990s? Honestly, I've watched each part twice and its prompted some fantastic musical archive digging - Cats, Joseph, Starlight Express...it's been a joy.

This week's Friday Fun is therefore musically inspired. For a start, dig out some classic tunes on Spotify (or similar - Spotify is out of favour in my world currently, but it is useful on occasion), then, if it's your thing, check out what follows.

Firstly, do you know who was a star of episode 3? John Barrowman. The man so camply wonderful that really he only needs to be referred to as "Barrowman!" (for a brilliant example of this, watch this clip of David Tenant on Never Mind the Buzzcocks). Even if you're not a fan, this video ought to bring at least a wry smile to your face:

Secondly, you know who was a surprise feature of musical London's history? Cliff Richard. I know I shouldn't be that surprised, but I'd honestly had no idea he'd starred in a chronically awful production in the mid-80s (it featured a 10ft hologram of Laurence Olivier) and I'd obviously blocked all memories of Heathcliff the musical from my mind. He's not someone who has amused me much in the past, but that changed with the discovery of the tumblr: Cliff Richard is dying inside. The concept is a simple one. Take a shot of Cliff (there are many, he's done calendars for decades) and consider the real emotion lying behind his eyes.

For example, the most recent one is this:

Fabulous. Obviously, I couldn't mention musicals without somehow happening upon a Glee connection. Did you know that the utterly awesome Blaine Warbler (aka Darren Criss) is partly responsible for a Harry Potter musical? Given that this appeared on YouTube in 2009, I appreciate that I'm coming rather late to the party, but what could be better than a musical theatre, Harry Potter inspired parody, sung by a beautiful man? No, I agree with you, nothing.

Finally, a tenuous musical link... Last week was the annual London A Cappella Festival, at which the lovely Songmen were performing. I went along to provide sibling-in-law support and had a jolly good time. (Including hearing the most amusing rendition of a 16th century French madrigal ever.) The Songmen were followed by an intriguing collective from one of my alma maters. All the King's Men are essentially King's College London's answer to the Warblers, only with far worse outfits. Morv and I could barely hold ourselves together during their performance of It's Raining Men, but they are rather quality. I couldn't find a video of that gem, so here's an equally camp Spice Girls Medley:

May your weekend be full of singing, or dancing, or both!

Dreams of a Life

2012-01-19T23:09:00.000Z

Last week I took advantage of something rare and wonderful - a 'cheap', nearly empty, quiet, viewing of a quality film in London's West End.

I've recently discovered that if you go to a screening at one of the Curzon chain of cinemas before 2pm, then it's much cheaper than is usual in London-town. [i.e. £7 at the Soho Curzon, which is a veritable bargain.] I resent paying through the nose to watch films, especially when the quality of the experience is so dependent upon total strangers. Going to screenings at 11.30am means that the audience is sparse and basically consists of students (who must be responsible as they're actually awake), freelancers and others who exist in a world where a morning film is a viable activity. The other good thing about Curzon is that they show films at the more art house end of the spectrum - like semi-obscure documentaries...

Dreams of a Life had first come to my attention thanks to an article in the Observer last October, but it wasn't the first time I'd come across its subject - Joyce Carol Vincent died in 2003, but her body wasn't discovered until 2006. Carole Morley's film was the result of her determination to find out who Joyce was and how it could be possible that her death went undiscovered for so long.

The story rang a bell. Joyce died in a bedsit in Wood Green. For most of the nearly three years that her body lay there, I lived just up the road in Muswell Hill. Wood Green was where I went shopping or to the cinema. I would have walked through the Shopping City complex (where her home was) countless times, passing just metres from her front door. When her body was discovered (by the housing association representatives sent to repossess the flat), news of the grim discovery rocked the community.

And so it should. Joyce was discovered with the TV still on and wrapped Christmas presents by her side. How come the recipients of the gifts didn't look for her? Her family refused to participate in the film, but it was evident that they'd been estranged for some time. Didn't she have friends or colleagues who would notice her absence? What the film revealed was that she'd always been secretive, and seemed to have spent much of the previous three or four years cutting herself off from what friends she'd had and moving into a job where she was pretty much anonymous.

But this was a woman who had had friends. In the 80s she dated someone who was Isaac Hayes' agent; she recorded songs; she'd even met Nelson Mandela! Time and again the friends interviewed in the film despaired as to how she could have become so cut off from the world that her death went unnoticed.

It's not a cheery film to watch, and it made me ponder two things:
1. How long would it take people to notice that I was missing?
2. Who in my circle of friends might disappear without someone noticing?

In answer to the first question - not very long. I have colleagues and flatmates who would ask questions. True, it takes a gap of more than a week between phone calls to attract parental concern, but if this was combined with no tweeting or blogging, then I think concern would arise sooner. Basically, I'm very lucky to have lots of people around me and great relationships.

The second question is an interesting one. In an age of virtual relationships, how soon do you notice if someone stops tweeting or updating their Facebook status? Does it get lost in a mire of pointless information? When do you remember to look at their profile, or phone them up? After a week, or a month, or a year? Or, do you think of them sporadically, intend to get in touch, and then never quite manage it - until it's too late?

There are friends of mine whose way of dealing with stress or uncertainty is to take themselves out of life for a while - whether it's travelling around the globe, or disappearing into a retreat centre. It wouldn't be easy to tell with them if they were simply off-grid, or whether something was seriously wrong. What about people whose way of dealing with pain and anxiety is to cut themselves off from others? This is what Joyce seemed to do after a series of abusive relationships resulted in her living in a refuge. Was she too ashamed of what had happened to face her one-time friends? Can we ever stop people from having that reflex?

The bottom line is that little could have stopped Joyce from dying, but that as a whole, society failed her. After she had cut herself off from her support network, she was left with no one. (On a recent visit to hospital, she'd listed her next of kin as her bank manager.) But surely someone should have realised something was wrong? The neighbour who noticed an odd smell? The council tax that was never paid? The staff member that never turned up? It's a damning reflection on our world...

So, you're going to a BAP...

2012-01-16T22:10:00.000Z

Well, actually, the chances are you're not - you're probably just a regular reader of this blog who has absolutely no intention of ever putting themselves forward for ordination in the Church of England. [Wait, are you confused as to why I'm talking about BAPs? This explains it all.] However, this post is primarily for the benefit of at least four people I'm acquainted with who I know are going to BAPs imminently. Plus, there's always the chance that the odd candidate might approach Google for help.

True, when you're selected for a BAP, the CofE sends you a helpful booklet entitled 'Going to a Bishops' Advisory Panel', which explains the processes and procedures (if you're interested, you can find a copy here). But, there are plenty of things that you could do with knowing that neither it nor your DDO (Diocesan Director of Ordinands, aka the person who you meet with regularly who supervises your progress through the selection process) tells you, so these are some of my tips. One day, I might write an entire book of such hints - I'd like to call it The Irreverent Guide to Becoming a Reverend - or maybe the Church Times would like a new regular columnist...?

My DDO was terribly thorough in her BAP preparation, which was very useful - we even had a helpful clothing chat. [This can be summarised as: no suits; smart-casual; be comfortable. Basically, wear what makes you feel good, but be sensible.] One of her best pieces of advice was that I should take 'comforting' things with me - like a Teddy Bear, a favourite book and some nice food. I translated this as:

Comfort viewing - specifically Gilmore Girls Season 4. Do not underestimate the power of the box set. BAPs involve long periods of time in your room and it's nice to have background noise and something to get engrossed in to take your mind off everything else.
A cosy cardi - partly in case it was cold, partly so I could curl up in it.
Green & Blacks chocolate - self-explanatory.
G&T in a can - for emergency situations only. In fact, I ended up drinking it on the train home because I hadn't needed it.

Beforehand, lots of people will (hopefully) give you advice, pray for you and send you nice (or comedy) cards. If you know someone going to a BAP, look up the address of their centre (it's either Ely or Shallowford, so not tricky to find) and send a card to them that they'll get on arrival - it's a nice touch. Amongst my cards, I had a letter of advice from my Dad which included a few gems:

"Do be yourself..." "Do show your humorous side..."
"Don't get into an argument! Do keep calm at all times."
"Don't dominate a discussion... As Karen was told in Outnumbered, 'treat everyone with respect - even idiots'."

[I feel I should clarify that my Dad wasn't suggesting that I would get into an argument - just that he'd heard of it happening. He was suggesting that I might dominate a discussion and it's not the first time he's compared me to Karen from Outnumbered.]

Once you're actually at the BAP, the important thing to remember is that everyone is in the same boat. Don't let yourself get psyched out by the people who already seem to be behaving like vicars (unless they're one of the advisors). It's a little bit like Freshers Week at uni - everyone will ask you the same questions and you'll spend a lot of time having the same conversations, and you'll be offered endless cups of tea.

There will be ice-breakers, they may be cringeworthy, but this is an ideal time to pick up on what your advisors are like - which is always useful, especially when you're completing your Personal Inventory. This is a peculiar 45 minute exam on you and your calling (top tip: take more than one pen in with you). In mine, I took a risk in the Education section and used Glee as an illustration - having already spotted that my Education Advisor was younger and had teenage children - it worked, she got it. Neither of the others would've known what I was talking about!

Your DDO may suggest you don't become too pally with the other candidates, which is probably wise. But it's worth finding out who the likely pub people will be (I ended up being the only woman who went for a drink), although there's also a good chance you'll be at a venue that's miles from a pub - but there will be a bar. It's also worth remembering that you may come across the candidates at a later date - like at the theological college you end up at. You may even have met some of them at open days or diocesan vocation courses - which can be both a help and a hindrance. Hopefully you'll also find someone you can have a giggle with. A friend of mine at Vicar School found the whole BAP/baps thing hilarious and someone prayed that he'd find someone at his BAP who also found it funny - he did, and as it turns out, both of them ended up at the same college.

It's a long 48 hours and definitely arduous. You'll go to more chapel services than you'll have thought possible [they will say that all but two are optional, but really, you've got to go - you're hoping to become a vicar after all!]; you'll be watched all the time - especially at meal times [you rotate between tables, which can become a trial to remember]; you'll get grilled three times; and you'll be with a bunch of total strangers, several of whom you'll probably think are utterly insane. There will be people who you'll think shouldn't get selected - but you definitely can't tell them that. There may even be people who seem to think that you shouldn't be (perhaps because of your gender or age) but ignore them.

You'll also need people on the outside. If you're married/in a relationship, then you'll participate in the mass, post meal, exodus of phone call makers. If you're single, have people who you can call or text whenever you need to. In both cases, have people at home who are praying. (My church always prayed for BAP people at weekly staff meetings - find out if your church does.) Even better, have someone on hand who's been through the process themselves. I was lucky enough to have had two friends go to BAPs in the two months before mine, and one was on hand for "I can't believe how crazy this is!" phone calls. You probably won't have wifi, and 3G access will probably be patchy - so don't rely on that kind of communication.

Oh, and your bedroom door may not have a lock. This probably isn't a big deal, but it does mean that you need to pay attention to your room name - rather than relying upon a number on a key-ring. I was shown to my room, I unpacked and left for a cuppa, realising half-way down the corridor that I had no idea of my room name and only a vague idea of which one it was. Given that none of the doors locked, there was a high chance that if I picked the wrong room, I'd walk in on a fellow candidate! (Or, even worse, an advisor. Or, even worse than that, an interview.)

Ultimately, the best advice is to go and be yourself. If your DDO is worth their salt, you wouldn't have got to the BAP stage if they didn't think you were a worthwhile candidate. If it all goes horribly wrong, it isn't the end of the world (although, if you feel like Nigel from Rev did, then do avoid church roofs) and you can have a second chance at it. Whatever you do though, don't drink your emergency G&T just before an interview - those bad boys have two and a half shots in them, which could decimate your performance!

Pop!

2012-01-14T20:45:00.001Z

There's been a strange culinary phenomenon in recent years of adding popping candy to various products. Once upon a time it was a substance only available in small, foiled packets - bought illicitly as it was rather frowned upon by my parents - and you'd have contests to see how much you could fit in your mouth without your head exploding.

I think it was the Willy Wonka brand that first thought of putting it in chocolate, but eventually Cadbury's got in on the act, creating a truly magical combination of Dairy Milk and Popping Candy (they knew it was magical, hence naming it 'Magical Elves'). Being only 25p and 75 calories, they became a staple of long, focus-group related train journeys. Then came Terry's Chocolate Orange segments with added explosives, and the genius at the Hummingbird Bakery who decided to put it in frosting...

The Lemonade Cupcake - lemon sponge & lemon, popping candy frosting

...ah, the Soda Cupcake range. Absolutely inspired. I tried the popping candy trick myself earlier this year - it's a cunning one for adding the element of surprise to your baking. (The trick is to add the candy right before you frost the cakes, otherwise it's liable to pop too much.) Watching people take their first bite unwarned is utterly priceless.

But this week, the world of popping candy [incidentally, do you know how many times I've accidentally typed 'pooping candy' in this post?!] reached a new high (or low, depending upon your opinion). In the condiments section of Sainsbury's, I made a surprising discovery:

Yup, that's chocolate spread with popping candy. (It was on a shelf that also contained chocolate orange, chocolate mint, chocolate caramel and chocolate coconut spreads - Sainsbury's have cornered the cocoa based toast accompaniment market.) I was intrigued and it was only £1.69, so I bought it.

This morning, I finally (well, it had been all of three days) got to try it - other than the initial spoonful I consumed on getting it home. Turns out, when spreading onto a hot base, the substance is liable to begin popping before you've got it into your mouth, which makes for an interesting food preparation process. It's also an interesting - but not unpleasant - consumption process. In fact, anyone who fancies trying it is more than welcome to pop round for breakfast in the next few weeks. Be quick though, I don't imagine it's going to stick around for long...

When multi-tasking is an impossibility

2012-01-12T23:37:00.001Z

As a woman, I pride myself on my multi-tasking capabilities. However, last night I came seriously unstuck as I attempted to do four things simultaneously...

Despite my frustration at London 2012 repeatedly emailing me about an event for which I have yet to acquire tickets, last week one of their emails finally bore fruit. As a way of checking that Olympic plans are going to, err, plan, there's a series of test events taking place that are similar-to-but-legally-distinct-from the Olympics. An email arrived informing me that for just £10 I could watch international gymnastics. The athletes would be almost the same; the venue identical; and the price significantly cheaper - so I decided it could be a post essay deadline treat.

I wasn't optimistic that my £10, unreserved, level 4 seating would get me much of a view. (We were on level 4 for Glee and they were mere dots to us.) But I ended up with a vantage point that was more than acceptable:

After I tweeted this photo, my mother asked why there were no gymnasts

- obviously, this is the 'before' photo...

...this is the first warm-up.

(Note: the 5th element is left-over from the men's competition.)

The crowd was congenial (it was 4.30pm, so there were a lot of children), there had been no queues (nothing short of a miracle at the O2), and I'd stood in line at Starbucks with some of the athletes competing, so it was shaping up to be a great evening. I don't know masses about gymnastics, but I'd known enough to apply for Olympics tickets and that my priority was getting a good view of the asymmetric bars - which I got.

Did you know preparing the asymmetric bars was such a complicated process? No. Me either.

[To be fair, they were changing the height for a particularly 'lanky' athlete. (My neighbour's word.)]

Problems only began to emerge when the competition kicked off. If you're unfamiliar with the process, the idea is that the gymnasts are divided into four groups and they perform on each piece of apparatus in turn. [In between they were ordered to 'march' from one apparatus to another, behind a sign saying 'beam' or 'floor' - presumably just in case they weren't sure what was coming.] This concept means that at any one time a gymnast might be performing Khokina release on the bars [yes, I also know enough about gymnastics to know that it's named after a Russian gymnasts, Svetlana, who competed at 3 Olympics]; a spectacular vaulting leap; an impressive tumble sequence; and a complex beam manoeuvre - i.e. four women, doing four things, in the same room, at the same time.

It is impossible to watch all four simultaneously.

I tried - and failed. It's not helped by the fact that only one of the four is commentated on in the arena. You always know who's doing their floor routine, where they're from and what they've scored because a loud booming voice tells you - and the music for their routine dominates everything else. It's terribly confusing, because you might be absorbed in a floor routine and applauding a particularly good move, when suddenly the person next to you gasps in horror as someone falls from the beam or bars. At one point during the first session I simply gave up and played with Twitter. In the second, it was easier as there were two British gymnasts, so I worked on the principle of simply following them around the room and whooping loudly - they seemed to do fairly well, but occasionally the sparkly-ness of the Brazilian team's leotards distracted me.

The sparkly Brazilians warming up on the vault.

[I believe that in Essex a 'sparkly Brazilian' is something quite different...]

It was certainly £10 well spent - five hours of sporting entertainment and a 2012 First to boot. I almost (almost) don't care about the Olympics ticket debacle because at least I've seen something interesting. If you're interested in something similar sporty and preparatory, there's a diving competition in the same series next month at the Aquatic Centre. I'd highly recommend it - I hear the only multi-tasking involved there is the synchronised diving...

On Christian goats and trolls

2012-01-09T19:13:00.001Z

Something has got my goat in quite a big way - in fact, it got my goat quite a long time ago, but now I actually want to do something about it.

I love social media and social networking dearly. I write a blog(s); I tweet - probably too much; my life is organised via Facebook; heck, I've even spent time teaching people how to use it better. It's definitely a good thing in my opinion, as long as it's used with care and thought. The problem is that we are humans, and sometimes we're not careful or thoughtful.

There are trolls (as they’re known) across the internet. Recently, there’s been a lot of coverage of the hideous comments many women receive on blogs or articles, simply because they’re women – especially if they’re writing on an issue that seems to be ‘feminist’ in nature. But they’re everywhere, from newspaper columns to blogs and random Facebook pages. Oh, and Twitter – there’s nothing like Twitter for a vicious, insult strewn argument…

I’m not naïve, I know that everyone gets annoyed or upset and does things that maybe, if they’d thought more about, they wouldn’t have done. This applies just as much to the internet as it does to the real world. Nor am I perfect – I’ve made mistakes just like everyone else. However, I have higher expectations of good online behaviour from my Christian brethren (perhaps that is naïve?), after all, isn’t the greatest commandment to love the Lord your God with all your heart, and love your neighbour as yourself?

Is bitching about other Christians in a public forum an example of following this commandment?

What about haranguing an individual just because you’re fed up with the (Christian) organisation they work for?

What if the people making the comments are ordained? Shouldn’t they know better more than anyone else? [In every single case that’s recently got my goat, the person concerned has been ordained.]

My goat has been severely got over the last few weeks. Time and again I’ve seen examples of this behaviour and last week it made me so angry that I wrote an original version of this post, just so I could do some cathartic venting. Some good friends read it and said that, once I’d removed the specifics, it might make for a helpful blogpost – so this is it.

In a Facebook thread where some of the worst behaviour was found, came a response that actually proved inspiring:

“To say it's ok to discuss xxxxxxx, as though they are not also a brother or a sister, someone who will flourish best with edification, support and respectful engagement kinda defeats the whole point of battling through a life of faith.

It is not ok to malign people as though they were not human, let alone fellow believers working, to the best of their knowledge, for the good of the Kingdom. There is a marked difference between expressing feelings of dissatisfaction and seeking solutions with like-minded people and aggressively hurling abuse!”

I’d also like to challenge the people making these negative comments.
Would they say these things in front of the people they’re insulting? Have they thought about how people would feel after reading some of their posts? Have they considered how they might feel if they read something similar about themselves?

Ultimately, what is it about social media that people feel gives them permission to behave in a way that they wouldn’t do in ‘real life’? And, how, as Christians do we encourage others not to behave in this way? How do we demonstrate Christian love and relationship in a virtual context?

I don’t necessarily have the answers to these questions, but I thought they’d provoke some thought and possibly discussion. Interestingly, on the day when I needed to vent, a post along similar lines to this was published on the Big Bible blog, so other people are thinking about it too. In the mean time, perhaps the best approach is to challenge behaviour that isn’t appropriate – like my friend above did – and put ourselves alongside those who are being attacked. Oh, and to not press 'send' in haste...

Friday Fun through a pinhole

2012-01-06T08:07:00.000Z

Enough of the festive fun frivolity - it's a new year and time for some serious fun...

Firstly, something that's both beautiful and fascinatingly educational.

This is an image created after a pinhole camera was left in place opposite Toronto's skyline for a year. Utterly amazing - here's how it was done.

Something else that's arty, but manages to involve a regular Friday Fun feature - children, is this project from Australia. It begins with a bright white room, and ends in a cacophony of colour...

Combining art with some TfL geekery (because it's actually been a while since we had some of that on a Friday) and some awesome stats is a new exhibition that opens today at the London Transport Museum. [How up to date am I?? Is it somewhat ironic that this gem was given to me by someone in Brooklyn?] Here are some classic London Transport posters containing stats you never knew you needed to know:

Painting By Numbers is at the museum until March 18th and I think may finally prompt me to make a trip there. Did you know that once you've bought a ticket it's valid for an entire year? That's pretty awesome in my book - so who fancies a nerdy day out?

Finally, we're now in 2012 and in London, that means just one thing: it's Olympics year! I'm staying upbeat and excited about this fact, despite the fact that I still have zero Olympics tickets [but I do have a ticket to next week's pre-Olympics gymnastics, which kind of helps]. In fact, let me take this moment to quote a recent Sue Perkins tweet that I empathised with:
"Dear London 2012 Olympics: please don't take my life savings on the promise of a ticket, then deny me that ticket, then EMAIL ME EVERYDAY"

Anyway, this means that there's all sorts of Olympics fun around, and this week's particular recommendation is the Guardian's 50 Stunning Olympics Moments. Currently they've published eight of them and it was No.8 - Eric Liddell's 1924 victory - that drew it to my attention. I defy you not to be inspired... Plus, it will equip you with some excellent Olympics factoids that you'll be able to pluck out of thin air over the summer, enabling you to look terribly knowledgeable, which is always nice.

A blissful library experience

2012-01-05T23:32:00.000Z

One of the advantages of being a student is the holidays - four weeks off Monday college days. However, the downside is that there are essays to write (and just two weeks off from the church bit of training), which amongst all the excitement of Christmas, is rather arduous.

Thanks to having had a research-based job for the last few years, the return to essay writing hasn't been as much of a shock to the system as it might have been, but that doesn't mean I always have the motivation needed. Combine that with Christmas events at church; choir rehearsals; parties; drinks; present shopping; flat decorating; and visiting friends - there's not that much room for studying. Fortunately, one friend suggested combining their visit from Sweden with a day studying together at the British Library - genius. (It works because you can't chat in the reading room, so no distractions.)

My cunning plan for having a productive Christmas was that I was going to be spending the festive period at a theological college. Sometimes, just sometimes, the fact that my parents live at a college comes in handy - at Christmas when the massive college fridges are very useful; last year when we needed all their urns during the water shortage; and, when I need books for an essay.

Good intentions count for little when there's family to have fun with, but once the fun elements (i.e. sibling & husband - joke, mother!) departed, I settled down to some hard work. What I discovered was the most blissful library experience ever:

I didn't need to go outside to get there and could wear my slippers.
The library was empty - and likely to stay that way - meaning I could listen to music (and, inevitably, sing along).
From my table I had a view, and not just any view - one of vegetation. In London I'm lucky if I get a Victorian lamp-post.
The aforementioned vegetation was mostly my parents' garden, which meant that for part of an afternoon I had a great view of my Dad trying to re-build his arch which the wind seemed determined to decimate.
From my seat, I could also see the window of my parents' dining room. This meant that I could stay studying until the light came on in that room, at which point I knew it was time to offer assistance.
My study breaks included home-cooked meals which I didn't have to pay for. You don't get that at the BL.

Somewhere in amongst that vegetation is my father...

I know the BL's only 10 minutes walk away and King's Maughan library's just 20 minutes, but I have to wear shoes to get to them...

Firsts but not lasts (possibly)

2012-01-04T23:20:00.000Z

According to my list, there are 80 things that I did for the first time in 2011. [The observant of you will notice that I counted 79 in Tuesday's post. I remembered one while writing this one.] In all probability there were more than this, but some would have been too tedious to list (yes, even more tedious than 'drunk a Corona') and some - like my trip to Paris - contained multiple firsts that were too numerous to list in their entirety.

Because I'm still a researcher at heart, I'm going to do a little evaluation and comparison with the 2010 list. Checking the 2011 version of this post, I see that I listed 78 2010 Firsts (in the mysteriously named 'clean' version) and then classified them according to type. So here's an evaluation of 2011's Firsts:

Again, 14 were food/drink related (it seems I am a creature of habit). I did make a point of noting new places in which I'd eaten, which is an excellent pursuit as it means you remember good places to go.
Seven were geographical (i.e. new places - towns and suchlike visited).
Many were cultural (I lost track of what exactly I was counting as 'cultural') - museums, BBC recordings, plays, concerts - actually, it was with the latter that I got stuck. A concert at King's Place was definitely a cultural experience, but was Take That at Wembley?
There were 13 items in my Firsts for 2011 list. I definitely did four of them and kind of did a couple of others. Some were total failures - I didn't have a single driving lesson in 2011, let alone contemplate either of the tests; and I didn't visit a new country (though I did go to France thrice).

2011 Firsts photographically & chronologically

[It took me more time to get those flipping photos in order than it did to write this post.

Yes. I am that anal.]

Like last year, my biggest achievement was dance related. In 2010 I did tap dancing at Pineapple Studios, in 2011 it was ballet in Putney. I loved it and honestly, if the classes hadn't been way beyond my level, in Putney and on Saturdays, I'd have totally been up for continuing. Last term I fully intended to take Beginners' Ballet at the local dance school, but sadly it clashes with my home group night this year. But I still have my shoes (and a growing collection of Black Swan inspired leg warmers) so I'm all set.

Actually, walking the Thames Path was possibly a bigger achievement in terms of physical exertion - never have I been so tired! But it, and the training involved, were definitely a contributing factor to my new found obsession with walking everywhere I possibly can. Friends in the East End find my passion for walking 5 miles to Bow utterly mental, but it's something I've been doing almost once a week lately.

Oh, and then there was Paris! And the rest of the French firsts - which all totally make up for not getting to a new country this year. Who wouldn't have their first sight of the Eiffel Tower on a list of the year's highlights? Not to mention learning how to scaffold in French...

This year's also marked several lifestyle firsts - a first sermon at St Mary's; first job in a church; first term at Vicar School; first Macbook; my first experience of living in King's Cross - none of which I could have put on a list at the beginning of the year.

Like I said the other day, the project's carrying on - in fact, I already have two Firsts booked in for next week - and I'm really pleased to see that other people have taken it up for this year too. Most excitingly of all, it's not the case that the firsts are also lasts, so let 2012 also see plenty of seconds!

So that was 2011...

2012-01-02T18:06:00.000Z

Looking back, 2011 was something of an epic year...
The spring saw me face a big challenge and pass - meaning that the summer involved moving house and the autumn included a new job and a new life as a trainee vicar. Big changes, but good ones.

I don't do resolutions, but it is useful to look back on the year that's ended and look ahead (positively) to the coming one. On Saturday morning I held a (somewhat epic) brunch at which my friend Becki asked the room two questions:
(i) What will you leave behind in 2011?
(ii) What will you take up in 2012?
I like that kind of an attitude to the progression of time. January is a good time to feel free of the things that may have made last year hard, or that we don't want to taint this year; it's also an ideal time to move in to new things. No, I'm not going to share my answers, but suffice to say that the friends in the room were affirming in their enthusiasm for them.

Counting the blessings of the past year is also a much more constructive way to look back. I was really touched to hear via Twitter that my vicar's daughter had included me on her list of 2011 blessings - she and the rest of her family are definitely on mine! Thinking about it on New Year's Day, these would have to be some of the others:

Vicar School friends (and Christmas Jumpers).
New colleagues and friends at my new church.
Staying in touch (and becoming better friends) with ex-colleagues and church people.
The Matroyshka House community.
Living in central London.

Then, of course, there are The Firsts. It's now two years since I came up with the concept, and it's one that's connected with a lot of people. In fact, I discovered last week that my friend's mum had used it as the basis for their family Christmas letter this year! I hope she won't mind me quoting its opening paragraph:

Someone we know keeps a list of firsts in her life; from momentous, I never thought I’d do that occasions, to small events such as visiting a new coffee house or trying a new food. Anne jotted down a few of hers for 2011 and it is easy to remember the more significant events but not so easy to remember the smaller ones. However the recording of firsts has helped her realise how rich life can be in the big and the small. So in 2012 she has resolved to record every first, if the shrinking grey matter can remember if something is indeed a first, but does this matter if the experience is a positive one. Not all firsts are good, and neither are all firsts lasts. Oh dear getting deep now!

It has to be said that reading this has actually made me decide to keep going with the Firsts lists. Other people list every book they've read, presumably partly to keep track of what they've read (or do they just do it to look clever?), so my habit of tracking Firsts will just be my version of that. If it helps me realise how rich and diverse my life is, that can only be a good thing!

Predictably, my next post will be a 2011 Firsts review, once I've had chance to properly evaluate the 79 listed...

Happy new year people! May you leave behind all that you want to in 2011 and feel free to take up what 2012 offers you.

Making Friday Fun of me

2011-12-30T08:10:00.013Z

This is self-indulgent, but it is Christmas, and I am tired. In lieu of genuine Friday Fun, I will instead be making fun of myself (and perhaps poking a little fun at my family too). Trips to Belfast and time with the family often involve a little digging through the archives and prompt some introspection - boxes of old school stuff resides there, as do a lot of photo albums.

It was the re-shelving of my baby photo album that began a last minute retrospection on Wednesday evening. I discovered a couple of albums of photos that I hadn't seen in years, both containing photographic evidence of at least two memorable holidays and assorted other curious photos. (Each album ended with a random assortment of pictures that bore no relation to each other - much time was spent trying to date them, with my father frequently insisting my sister must have been 7 in photos where I knew she was at least 10.)

I ended up having to get copies (poor quality photos of photos, sadly) of some of the classics, which at least amused us briefly. Knowing that other people's photos are rarely that interesting, this post may only interest three people, but never mind. At the very least it should make all of us very grateful not to be living in the early 1990's...

Flicking through these albums, I made a few discoveries. Firstly - and this wasn't so much a discovery as a resurrection of a memory I'd tried to suppress - fashion in the 90's was very, very bad.
Exhibit A: Matching mother-daughter floral all in ones. And I thought jumpsuits were a recent phenomenon?!

We were in Boston, eating Deli sandwiches. The caption said we were eating pastrami & rye, but there's no way my ten year old self would've chosen that as a sandwich filling.

Exhibit B: Dungarees (and paint splattered jeans) were never a good look. [I was also disturbed at how often that neon bumbag featured in photos...]

Another Boston photo. We were there for a couple of months - my outfit is entirely American.

Exhibit C: Mismatched clothing. Oh dear...

Secondly, a discovery that my sister - without fail - did amusing poses in all photos. Or, would try to get into photos that had nothing to do with her. Look closely at the three above and you'll spot comedy faces or arm gestures, typical of the family clown. However, this is my favourite:

Me and my parents studied this picture for a long time and none of us could work out why we stopped in front of a branch of C&A for a photo. It's possible the feature is actually the canal and it's also possible that it's from a trip to the Netherlands in 1994 (this deduction made solely from the fact that I'm wearing a green coat, thus meaning I was definitely at secondary school). Anyway, note the ridiculous facial expression in the foreground. [Edit: a Facebook friend recognised it as Lincoln. Not quite as exotic, but perfectly plausible.]

Thirdly, it seems that I was actually known as 'Lizzy' in public and with people other than my immediate family. I have something of a multiple personality when it comes to versions of my name, which I think I've mentioned before, but I'd been fairly sure that only a very small group of people called me Lizzy. However, two photos from the summer I turned 10 would seem to dispute this:

My 10th birthday cake, clearly iced with 'Lizzy'.

Peculiar, possibly Native American in aim, face-painting with 'Lizzy' across my forehead.

[It was a Vacation Bible School with a pioneer theme. I couldn't possibly explain...]

Fourthly, one word: beard...

I have a friend who's come close to emulating this feat in recent months, but I think even they are beaten by my Dad's 1982 effort. Really quite impressive. [Sobering thought. My Dad was the age I am now in that photo.]

Fifthly, I had always been under the impression that I'd been excited about visiting Mozart's birthplace when we went to Salzburg. It seems I was wrong:

Not a great advert for Mozart, but a potentially great one for Clothkits - that's a matching outfit, right there!

Because I'm a generous individual, if you do find this stuff vaguely interesting, there's a whole album of it.

Speaking too soon

2011-12-29T21:21:00.000Z

Or, in this case, blogging too soon.

The other day I extolled the virtues of sailing to Ireland, rather than flying. At the back of my mind was the thought that perhaps I should save the post until I'd completed my return journey, but in the end I decided to go with it.

The morning after I published it, I got a text from the ferry company informing me that severe weather conditions had put my crossing in jeopardy. Within two hours, it had officially been cancelled. I was automatically transferred to one of two slower crossings - one at 8.05 or 20.55. This boiled down to a choice between a 5am drive to Dublin, or four and a half hours on the platform of Holyhead station in the early hours of the morning. The former - thanks to a generous offer of a lift from my father - won.

A good thing about ferry crossings is that even when fast crossings are cancelled, the slow ones almost always go. It's not like flights where cancellations wreak havoc; it simply means that the massive slow boats (on Irish Ferries, it's the Ulysses, which seems appropriate) become fuller and you're faced with a four hour voyage instead of a two hour one. However, there are fewer crossings - which can mean if the quick ferry is cancelled at the last minute, you have a lot of time to kill in Dublin. [Seven years ago this happened to us on one of the coldest days I've ever known. My mother insists that this has put her off the city forever.]

Anyway, this change of plan basically meant that today, my already epic journey became epic-er. At 5.15am I waved goodbye to my Mum; by 7.15 I was boarding the boat - so far so good. However, by the time I finally disembarked at midday (and endured a ridiculous baggage fiasco) and got a seat on a train that was packed (thanks to the simultaneous arrival of two packed ferries), my patience was wearing very thin. Add to the confusion train announcements that were entirely in Welsh, and by 12.30 I was beginning to unravel. I spent a good while actually believing I was on the wrong train - after all, surely a train going to Cardiff from Holyhead couldn't also be going north to Chester? [Turns out it does - Welsh trainlines are very special.]

All that kept me sane was a serious dose of magic, in the form of Harry Potter 2, 3 and 4, and a picnic breakfast/lunch/tea made lovingly by my mother. Exactly 12 hours after I'd left Belfast, I arrived at my front door. After so many hours travelling (and making it through four different countries), you might have thought I'd have ended up somewhere a lot more interesting...

Sailing home for Christmas

2011-12-27T22:14:00.000Z

A surprising discovery during the Volcanic Ash Cloud drama, was that it's remarkably cheap to travel from England to Ireland via train and boat. For little more than £30, my Dad was able to escape from Manchester and make it back to Belfast in the same day. Last Christmas it also saved my stranded Australian Godsister from a Christmas on the floor of Stansted airport. This Christmas, partly to avoid potential travel chaos and partly because it seemed like a more logical option, I bought a SailRail ticket to Ireland instead of budget flights.

On paper, it does look slightly ridiculous. I exchanged a 4 hour door-to-door journey for a 9 hour one. Flying would've involved a 40 minute train journey, an hour's flight and a 20 minute car ride. SailRail comprised two 2 hour train journeys, a 2 hour ferry crossing and a two hour car ride - that's considerably epic. (Though I'm grateful that getting to Euston only required a 15 minute walk.)

However, there are multiple benefits:
- The environmental damage is less.
- The only luggage restriction is what you can carry - no liquid restrictions or security checks.
- There's a lot more potential for getting work done at tables.
- Chester to Holyhead is a very scenic route.
- You can watch a lot of DVDs (or iPlayer downloads) in 6 hours.
- It's cheaper than flying.

Of course, being me, I had to find my own form of entertainment. I'd been amazingly organised and not only had created a picnic for both breakfast and lunch (when your train leaves at 7.10am, you need to take a breakfast picnic) but had also trawled iPlayer for fun things to watch. Sitting on the train, immersed in the Steve Jobs documentary, I realised that most of my fellow passengers were also en route to Dublin - after all, who else would be so keen to get to Chester at that hour of the morning?

Knowing from previous ferry experiences that electricity is hard to come by on the boat, I had a power-saving strategy too - keep Macbook plugged in on both trains, thus ensuring that I definitely had enough juice to keep me amused to Dublin. Arriva Trains Wales' non-functioning sockets threatened to scupper this, but I managed to find my own amusement for the Chester-Holyhead leg.

An unpleasant encounter with an unreasonable woman with an overly-large bag introduced me to a beardy, bookish fellow. He pointed out to the woman that on a crowded train it was rather off to place a large bag under a table, thus meaning that no one else sat there would have room for their feet. The woman angrily refused offers to move the bag and didn't seem to see what the problem was, so beardy man and I moved away and found alternative seats. Always a fan of beardy, bookish types, I chronicled my adventures on Twitter and in turn managed to amuse some friends too. When you're going to be in a confined space with the same group of people for several hours, there's always scope for making a new friend...

The ferry trip and time in Eire meant that I was out of Twitter contact for several hours. The last friends at home heard of the saga was that I'd spotted what he was reading while we were on board the bus from the station to the ferry. Details of the rest of the trip had to wait until after the Twitter blackout. I did make a friend, but not beardy man - an 18 month old child travelling with her mum who needed an extra hand/pair of eyes at changeovers. It's probably a good thing that I became separated from beardy man onboard as within half an hour of cast-off, I was beginning to turn green at the gills. The fast crossings are a good thing (2 hours instead of 4), but on a moderately rough sea, it's rather choppy. The sight of a small child throwing up into a Waitrose carrier bag almost finished me off, but a festive episode of Never Mind the Buzzcocks took my mind off it till we reach land again.

I'm rather looking forward to my return trip on Thursday - I may even use the time for a Harry Potter marathon. The only niggling worry is that the Irish/British let me out/in. The ferry company said passports weren't needed for crossings and that a driving licence or bankcard would be sufficient ID. However, when your driving licence says you were born in Tonga, it doesn't make for great evidence of your nationality...

Friday Fun with a Festive Twist - Week 4

2011-12-23T14:56:00.000Z

It's Christmas Eve-eve, and still there are fun things to share...

Firstly, in honour of the fact that I joined my family for Christmas yesterday (and the remaining bits of it fly in today), how about some awkward Christmas family photos? I am so glad the family photo Christmas card isn't as much of a thing in this country as it is in America, but at the same time, it does provide a good many laughs. This site brings together the best from a few classic sites - including previously mentioned Awkward Family Photos and Awkward Family Pet Photos - but with a running Christmas theme. Some are just simply hilarious, others go to show that what seemed like a good idea at the time isn't necessarily good in hindsight.

A couple of my favourites related to families who thought matching outfits were appropriate:

Christmas jumpers are always good, but so many and so gender distinct?!

Similarly, I'm all for Christmas PJs, but this is just wrong.

(Incidentally, think about the fact that this was taken in a studio, not their home.)

Being with my family for the festivities also means that I'm occupying a house containing 33 nativity sets (fret not, nativity fans, much more will be made of this after Christmas Day's past), and this provides me with an excuse to share a few more nativity story gems. It's particularly good to retell Bible stories in unusual, captivating ways and with materials found in most homes - so how about a jam nativity?

Yes, it's surreal and ridiculous, but it's a condiment nativity - what's not to like? Slightly less ridiculous is the Sat Nav-itivity (another entry to this year's Nativity Factor contest) - explaining why it was that the Wise Men were so late to the party:

Finally, it turns out you can have fun with Christmas tree decorations too - apparently not everyone takes them as seriously as my family does. I was entranced by the tale of a woman whose grandmother made her Christmas decorations from clothes-pegs every year - especially once I saw the photos. You can create a fun game from the accompanying Flickr set and see if you can work out what the pegs were meant to represent.

I have no suggestions for the one on the left...

Lastly, something that's not so much fun as beautiful. This is what passes for a 'last minute' animation from a fellow Vicar School student and it's stunning. The nativity in silhouette:

May your Christmas be festively fun and special.

A deserving, if dubious, honour

2011-12-22T18:15:00.000Z

The British have an odd Christmas tradition. For some reason, massive importance is attached to the song that achieves number 1 status in the charts during the week before Christmas Day. I really don't get it - especially when you look at the list of songs that have acquired this honour and realise just how much dross it includes (I offer you Exhibit A: Mr Blobby and Exhibit B: Bob the Builder.)

When thinking about this post, I was fairly sure that I'd only ever contributed to one Christmas number 1 (and even then, when I say 'I', I mean my sister bought the tape from Woolworths) - that being the Christmas classic Stay Another Day by East 17. (It is Christmassy because the band wore fur edged parkas in the video and there's some nice tubular bell work, and that is all.) However, looking at the list reminded me that I'd also bought the 20th anniversary recreation of Do They Know It's Christmas (don't judge - my Godson was born they day they recorded it and I was feeling sentimental). Anyway, the point to this post is that I think I've probably just bought this year's too...

No, not Dominick The Donkey (though it has been a Christmas highlight for several years and I was tempted), but the Military Wives singing Wherever You Are. If you'd told me a month ago that I'd do this, I wouldn't have believed you.

If you’re reading this on the blog itself, on the right-hand sidebar you’ll find a list of my most popular posts. Number 1, by a long way, is a four year old post about Gareth Malone, specifically, the amusing ways in which people had googled him, resulting in their landing upon my original blog about his second TV series. Every time he reappears on our screens my stats spike – in fact this has become almost my default way of discovering what he’s up to (well, that and his Twitter feed). For a little while this blog was almost the top entry if you googled his name – terrifying. Anyway, as much as I dislike what he does for my stats, I do love him and his work. Watching him bring people together in singing is utterly inspiring and I think his passion for community singing is infectious.

However, his latest series had me conflicted – in fact, I didn’t begin watching it until it had finished. (I know that doesn’t make sense, but that’s the bonus of iPlayer.) This time he was working with military wives and it was the ‘military’ bit I had an issue with. Being a pacifist, I find the media’s obsession with the military difficult. I don’t believe that we ought to have troops in Afghanistan and I think that the waste of human life is atrocious. But, I read brilliant reviews of the show, so thought I’d give it a go.

What I discovered was three hours of the most moving TV I’ve seen in a long time. Military life is by no means glamorous and those left behind by soldiers serving overseas have a miserable time – often left on bases miles away from their families, with little support. Moving bases regularly also makes it difficult to build any kind of community with the other families, even when you're all going through the same hideous experience of having loved ones fighting in a war zone. The show captured this perfectly and I was moved to tears on more than one occasion. Think I'm a sap? [You'd probably be right.] What about this clip of the women and children welcoming the soldiers home:

Plus, the project also demonstrated just how transformative singing can be. Several of the women featured didn't believe that they could sing, or that they had anything to offer to the choir - but through Gareth's determination not to let them give up, and ensure they felt valued, they realised that they did have worth. Take Sam, for example (she's the lady with the tattoos in the above video) - she was amongst a minority of wives who had previous choral experience, yet genuinely didn't seem to believe that she had a voice worth hearing. Any time she sang on her own there was a flurry of apologies as she felt she was messing up, it was heartbreaking to watch. In an amazing triumph over adversity (nerves, low self-esteem and family illness) she came to sing the solo in the choir's Royal Albert Hall performance - a performance that I defy anyone to sit through dry-eyed.

The song they sang had been written by Paul Mealor (he's the John Rutter of the 21st century), based upon letters written between them and their husbands. It's simply beautiful and in the best tradition of choral singing. Within minutes of the final programme finishing I was humming the melody to myself. Thus, when I discovered it was being released in time for Christmas Number 1 I was actually pleased - this song, more than almost any other (except the original Band Aid single) deserves the strange honour, and so does the lovely Gareth Malone. Yesterday's mid-week chart had it at Number 1 and I suspect it will stay there, an excellent antidote to the dross of previous years.

Things I've learned from Rev

2011-12-20T22:04:00.001Z

Last year, a new sitcom rocked my world. Last time I wrote about it (2 episodes into the first series), I was undecided as to whether it was a good thing or a bad, mainly thanks to its depiction of 'my kind' of church. By the end of the series it was a firm favourite, and major excitement resulted from spotting Revd and Mrs Smallbone at Greenbelt just a couple of months later.

It's still a little controversial. Some church friends hate it and only watch it because it's classic Water Cooler chat at their Vicar School; others think it presents a very one-sided view of the church; others think it perfectly captures the strains, stresses and hilariousness of vicar life. My family have weekly discussions around every episode, with my sister saying just the other day "I thought I'd had a normal childhood yet it seems to make an excellent BBC sitcom..." - I couldn't agree more.

When series two finally showed up last month, a lot of things had changed in my world. As I said on Twitter as episode 1 began, "Last time I watched Rev I was a normal individual & it was fun; now I'm a trainee vicar...it's terrifying". Tonight, the last episode of the series (and Christmas special) aired, and I've finished my first term of training. In some ways, Rev has taught me more* than a term of Vicar School has...

Episode 1:

Never have a meeting with your Archdeacon in a sauna.
The Church of England would be a much more exciting place if all bishops were in fact Ralph Fiennes.
Anything worthy in the church (like going on a day trip) involves a lot of paperwork.

Episode 2:

I now aspire to be a hot, intellectual and intimidating curate. According to my father, all I need to do to achieve this (aside from making it to ordination) is improving my piano playing skills.
There needs to be further debate in the church over the public versus private baptism debate. Colin should have been baptised in front of the rest of the congregation (as Canon Law dictates).

Episode 3:

All dioceses do actually have diocesan exorcists. (But it is ok to do the odd house blessing yourself, should the need arise.)
I am finally thankful for my traumatic viewing of The Exorcist some years ago, as it meant that I got all the jokes and references in the episode - other wannabe vicars should go and do likewise.
Cassocks aren't useful clothing during heat waves.

Episode 4:

Football is not a good forum for conducting inter-faith relations.
The Dragonfly story is apparently the only acceptable way to explain heaven to primary school children. [Just before Adam began to tell it, I had a sudden flashback to being told a weird story about dragonflies when someone died at school - hadn't thought about it in 2 decades - so was rather surprised that the BBC used the exact same story!]
Cycling vicars (clad in all the appropriate safety gear) do nowt for the reputation of the clergy.

Episode 5:

Don't steal from prospective parishioners - even if they're stoned, loaded, or Richard E. Grant.
Archdeacon inspections are, in fact, a bigger deal than I realised. [Within days of this episode our parish's forthcoming inspection became a big deal.]
"Pray quietly Vicar!" is something to bear in mind at all times.

Episode 6:

Not everyone finds the BAP (Bishop's Advisory Panel) acronym as amusing as my friends and I do. I couldn't believe the BBC didn't make any reference to it...
Those who don't get through the aforementioned BAP should be kept away from church roofs.
There are parishioners who like nothing more than to cook delicious meals for their clergy.

Christmas Special:

It's unwise to postpone visits to elderly parishioners, just in case...
Midnight communion in Shoreditch looks like rather more fun than my Tewkesbury Abbey/Gloucester Cathedral experiences.
Sharing a nervous breakdown with a congregation via The 12 Days of Christmas is possibly the best use of that particular Christmas ditty, and something to put on the bucket list.
Never cancel a planned waifs & strays Christmas dinner. [Incidentally, love that the BBC used exactly the same name that me and a colleague used to refer to it today. We love a good waifs & strays Christmas.] It will ultimately unite your entire parish and solve all family traumas.

The series will stay on iPlayer for another week, so catch it while you can (handy hint: if you download it, you'll have a month in which to watch it, if the next 7 days are somewhat hectic for you). Here's hoping there'll be a series three, and in the mean time, I think I'll need to stock up on the boxsets for future formational guidance.

*When I say 'more', I obviously mean 'different'. Obviously, I have learned tons of things that 3 and a half hours of a BBC sitcom couldn't possibly teach me. [Disclaimer endeth.]

Friday Fun with a Festive Twist - Week 3

2011-12-16T08:15:00.000Z

This week has been the week of the carol service - services in fact. One last Sunday, one on Tuesday (featuring Rupert Everett, *swoon*) and the final one this Sunday, when the children of the parish will get involved. Children are, of course, a crucial element of the Christmas festivities - the birth of Christ cannot be celebrated without at least one tea-towel clad shepherd...

Plus, the involvement of children lends itself to fun, of varying qualities. Friends down-under are particularly good at utilising their children well. Last year I featured their Christmas Story, this year they've made a prequel featuring some Old Testament classics. Personally, I think the Bible sounds particularly good when read in a Kiwi accent.

Then there's the humble church nativity complete with tinsel and very enthusiastic children. The following video comes courtesy of my sister who probably felt a sense of comradeship with its star - I'm sure she may have done something similar in her youth. This is a brilliant example of why the words "sing up" should be used with caution around small people:

You will now have "Ohhhhh yes, believer!" in your head for the rest of the day. I do not apologise for this, but to help you remove it from your brain, I give you this - a Christmas Medley from the end of a central London carol service last Sunday. A few tears were shed at the weekend as this was the first year (in 6 years) that I wasn't part of this extravanganza, and things just weren't the same. But thankfully several people did a lot of videoing and thus I can experience all the best bits via YouTube.

Oh, and just to show that they did perform some religious music, here's O Holy Night (it didn't have quite the effect on me that last year's version did, but that's because there wasn't a hot bearded man singing the solo...):

Festive films to love?

2011-12-15T21:04:00.000Z

It's not Christmas without some decent feature-length festive entertainment, so I've decided it's time to dust off some classics in preparation for a girly night in next week. When I proposed the concept last week (it's a simple one - girls, possibly clad in PJs, drinking hot chocolate and watching classic Christmas movies) there was much discussion as to which films should make the shortlist. I was shocked that some I felt were mandatory were vetoed, but I'll watch them anyway, and share them with you for posterity...

Most shocking of all, was a negative reaction to Love, Actually. It's been compulsory annual viewing since its release in 2003 (in fact, I babysat a child while its entire family was at the film's premiere - jealous much?) and it's a favourite for festive train journeys. However, it seems that there's a sizeable number of people who hate it, actually - as the comments on this fabulous Hairpin article demonstrate hilariously. [Though it seems that even those who try to hate it end up loving it secretly and no one can resist the charm of "Eight is a lot of legs David".] I may be slightly hardcore in my passion for this film - not only do I watch it throughout the year, but I usually watch the deleted scenes too, after all, Richard Curtis would want me too. Then I play this scene over and over and over...

Similarly, The Holiday is a film I can (and do) watch throughout the year. In fact, I tend to forget that the 'holiday' element of it is Christmas, despite the ridiculous quantity of snow in the English storyline. Just a few weeks ago I spent a happy Saturday night in watching it for the umpteenth time and couldn't be bothered to turn the DVD player off when it finished and discovered that this meant that the movie would start again from the beginning - no matter, I thought, and watched the first half again. For me, this is a motivational film - I've done a version of Kate Winslet's gumption speech twice now with two different men - and I'll often watch it just for her storyline, skipping the Jude Law/Cameron Diaz scenes. Yes, it's a chick flick and yes, it's only tenuously Christmassy, but I adore it.

But what is Christmas for if not for watching films that make you feel like a child again? I suppose it's no surprise that my other favourites all came out in the late 1980s/early 90s when Christmas was still a magical time for my innocent heart...

Home Alone and Home Alone 2 are both coming into their own as Christmas classics (we don't speak of the third instalment), but controversially, it's the second that's my personal favourite - after all, it stars New York, and who wouldn't love to be in NYC at Christmas? Plus, it has a lovely soundtrack (John Williams, quelle surprise) and the moment when the family's reunited in the Plaza melts me every time. Oh, and it features a massive toyshop - what else does it need? [The first film features a church service, so it's not as if it's completely blasphemous!] Oh, and it's got Tim Curry in it - although sadly it doesn't involve him singing.

Also starring New York is the remake of Miracle on 34th Street. I've long preferred this version over its black and white predecessor, but probably because this was the version I saw one Christmas and the version we then owned on VHS and watched annually. However, it turns out that Mark Kermode also prefers the Attenborough version, so I feel justified. Cute children, cute lawyers and some legal drama - what's not to like?

Finally, back to London, but in the company of some Americans, for the utter classic without which Christmas cannot be complete - The Muppet Christmas Carol. It has much going in its favour. For a start, my Dad adores the Muppets, so this was truly a film for our whole family. Plus, the year it came out on video was the same year that my sister and I were in an Am-Dram production of the classic Dickens' tale. To this day, I think we could still recite the script in full (as we used to do, to our parents' joy, on long car journeys). I was overjoyed last week to discover that the soundtrack is on Spotify and that it includes a song glaringly excluded from the DVD release (the scene wasn't in the theatrical release, but was in the video, I still can't believe they cut it). The whole thing is a joy from start to finish, but the real star is Rizzo the Rat, who has all the best lines - some of which are still firm fixtures in our family vocabulary:
"Hoity toity Mr Godlike Smarty Pants!"
"Light the lamp not the rat! Light the lamp not the rat!!"
Oh, and I defy you not to cry when the Ghost of Christmas Future takes Scrooge (Michael Caine - see, it's a gem!) to the Cratchitt house after Tiny Tim's death. Heartbreaking.

Clearly, there must be classics that I'm missing (though my mother does the entire family's duty of watching It's a Wonderful Life every year without fail), so what should I add to my collection?

The meaning of Christmas (decorations)

2011-12-13T12:40:00.000Z

It's becoming something of a annual blogging tradition to chronicle additions to my (rather extensive) collection of Christmas tree decorations. It could be tedious, but it's more for my benefit, so I can remember where they came from when I am old and senile.

To explain the premise:
My family (well, my mother began it...) has a delightful tradition of collecting Christmas tree decorations that mean something (this was a family tradition before the Nativity set obsession began). They could be meaningful because of who they were made by, where they were from, or what they symbolise. It's my favourite thing about the Clutterbuck Christmas and I can be a total bore at parties when my Christmas tree is complimented. Ask one question and you get a very long soliloquy in return...

That's this year's tree - the fake monstrosity of past years didn't make the move to KX, so I did some foraging again and recreated last year's Christmas Twigs.

This year, there are three additions to the collection and when I looked at them, I realised that they symbolised three big features of this year - gosh, how I love a good bit of symbolism!

Firstly, some rather lovely wooden hearts bought in Harpenden:

I can't remember the name of the shop (Jenni, you may need to help me out here) but it's on the High Street, just a few doors away from the Methodist Church. I bought these in the January sales (Christmas decorations top tip: buy them reduced after Christmas) when I had some time to kill before a meeting at the church.

The church was one of my case studies in the Missing Generation research project I was consumed with in my old job. For nearly three years it was the main focus of my professional life, until the summer when I got to present it to Methodist Conference - where, thankfully, people seemed to get rather excited about it. In fact, if the absence of people aged 25-40 is an issue you're interested in (especially if you're Methodist), why don't you ring up the good people at Methodist Church House and ask what's happening with the implementation of the report's recommendations...

There's nothing I like better than handmade decorations, so I was really pleased to discover that the women at the Marylebone Project had made some with Sweet Notions. I bought a few (as did lots of other people, meaning that they pretty much sold out) and spent a afternoon last week making my own versions for Christmas gifts.

This time last year I was aware of Sweet Notions and their work, but hadn't quite been sucked into its world until the middle of this year. You know you're properly involved in a project when you find yourself baking cakes at 11pm (and having cake failure tantrums) and can be found loading transit vans outside swanky hotels late at night.

Sweet Notions works with the women of the Marylebone Project, teaching them how to make jewellery (and assorted other things - recently I witnessed a great bath bomb/bath scrub workshop), and this jewellery then gets sold at boutique events that occur sporadically. I discovered the project through quite a random coincidence - one could say that God really wanted me to know about it, ensuring that two people I already involved told me about it separately. I don't often get to spend time with the women, thanks to work, but I love it when I do. What I especially love about these decorations is that I know who made them - the blue ones above were made by Adele, who only makes blue jewellery. We had a great chat about the decorations before I bought them and she taught me how to make my own. The other two in my collection were made by Cathers, who I can credit with getting me properly involved in Sweet Notions in the first place.

It was quite a while before I fully realised that Sweet Notions is just one part of the larger Matryoshka Haus, which the fabulous Shannon Hopkins heads up. Getting to know Shannon has definitely been one of the year's highlights - little did I know that one invitation to Thai food would result in a trip to France to build a house; my social life hub moving to the East End; a host of new and interesting friends; and involvement in an incredibly exciting missional project. In October, I found myself in Chichester with other members of the community, where I bought this beauty in a little art shop:

It seemed appropriate to mark the importance of the Matryoshka Haus community with the ultimate accolade - a place on my Christmas tree. Thus, in years to come when my grandchildren ask for the story behind the heart shaped glass bauble, I'll be able to tell them about the strange collection of great people I lived life with in my early thirties. [God help me, that's the first time I've ever referred to my 'early thirties'. Terrifying.]

An evening with the stars and the moon

2011-12-12T21:12:00.000Z

There's nothing quite like a quintessentially geeky Saturday afternoon pursuit to make your weekend - like going to the Planetarium to watch a film about the Life of Stars. The Observatory at Greenwich is now home of London's only Planetarium, which seems appropriate, what with its long history (and excellent vantage point) of looking into the sky...

It's worth the trip, for a whole host of reasons. Firstly, at the moment it's home to an exhibition of the 2011 Astronomy Photographer of the Year 2011 competition - turns out you can enter with photos taken with very normal cameras and without the use of a telescope. Who knew? This was my personal favourite:

Then there was the film itself. The whole thing was infinitely relaxing - comfy, reclining seats; notices given by a fantastically calm and soothing voice; film narration by Patrick Stewart; pretty dancing stars...in fact, the only thing that could have enhanced the experience was a can of G&T (or, I've heard, some unorthodox substances). It was a good job it was relaxing, as a less calm person might have started to panic over the fact that our sun is likely to die in x billion billion years. [It was so relaxing that I took in very little of its precise facts.] It's fortunate that this event is also:
(i) A very long way off.
(ii) When it does happen, it will be beautiful in a pink and purple way.

If you do go, choose the last showing of the day (at 3.15pm) as you'll emerge just as the London skyline is disappearing into the sunset. This would be a beautiful sight most days, but on Saturday, it was as if the nerd friend who organised the trip had also managed to sort out a few natural phenomenon too...

1. An utterly fantastically mesmerising sunset.

2. A partial lunar eclipse.

Ok, it won't win me Astronomy Photographer of the Year 2012, but you get the idea.

3. A brilliant winter moon.

If only one of us had had a butterfly net with us, this could have been my entry...

All this excitement AND I got to travel home by boat. What a simply superb Saturday.

Friday Fun with a Festive Twist - Week 2

2011-12-09T09:34:00.000Z

The avalanche towards Christmas is gathering momentum, but with it has come a veritable blizzard of comedy Christmas offerings, of which the following are just a small selection...

Firstly, because I love a good diagram, here's a Christmas themed Venn that you may have already seen - I thought it was highly original when I first saw it on Twitter, but it's now made it to Facebook. I guess that's the problem with only posting fun at the end of the week!

As you know from Monday's escapades, Christmas Jumpers have become a rather big thing in my life, thus a link to 'The 12 All-Time Ugliest Christmas Sweaters' was irresistible. Honestly, there are some hideous creations in that list - including a 3D baby Jesus...gobsmacked!

I vote next year's Vicar School Christmas Jumper day is a competition for the ugliest and tackiest one...

There's a rather good YouTube contest on at the moment (in fact, I think voting closes today) giving creative religious types the opportunity to tell the story of the Nativity in a new way - the Nativity Factor. There are some seriously good entries out there (I'm a big fan of the local King's Cross entry), but there are others that are slightly more ridiculous - like a beatboxing vicar:

If my friend Jo was writing this post, I'm sure she'd also want to direct you towards the HMS Ocean rendition of All I Want For Christmas Is You, but military personnel miming Mariah Carey really doesn't do it for me...

Festively baking & boozing

2011-12-08T09:51:00.002Z

It really isn't Christmas without a party, and without a party there is no (real) excuse for festive baking or, more importantly, festive boozing. Our flat's having one such party tomorrow night, courtesy of our Germanic part-planner who sadly leaves the Big Smoke next week. In preparation, I spent last night trying out a new Christmas cookie recipe [baked while watching Love, Actually to get me in the mood]. Having sampled some of the results I can testify that it's worth sharing, so here it is:

Discovered via googling 'cinnamon biscuits' and landing here, I amended slightly to suit my cinnamon fetish tendencies...

Christmas in biscuit form

150g (5 oz) self-rising flour

150g (5 oz) plain flour

4 teaspoons ground cinnamon

125g (4 ½ oz) butter

100g (3 ¾ oz) sugar

1 egg beaten

Caster Sugar & cinnamon - for sprinkling

1. Set oven at 160 degrees C (Gas Mark 3).

2. Sift flours and cinnamon into a large bowl.

3. In a separate bowl, mix butter and sugar until smooth. Add egg and mix well.

4. Stir in the dry ingredients and mix into firm dough. Lift on to a lightly floured board, knead until smooth.

5. Roll to 5mm thickness and cut into shapes.

6. Sprinkle sugar & cinnamon onto a plate and coat biscuits before placing on baking sheet.

7. Bake in the preheated oven until light golden colour, 10 to 15 minutes. Let cool and harden.

As an afterthought, this morning I decided to add a drizzling of cinnamon icing - not too much, just enough to make them even sweeter and even more cinnamony [as I said, it's an obsession].

For all parties, it is obligatory to have booze. At Christmas, this is often of a spiced, mulled and hot variety, but why not branch out and go cold? So cold, that it actually involves ice cream. You may recall that at my first ever Thanksgiving the other week, I had my first ever egg nog - I now have the recipe, so I'll share it with you:

D's Holiday Egg Nog

(It's an American holiday so obvs, it's an American recipe.)

(Also, it sounds lethal, but it's yummy - honest!)

12 eggs - separated

1 cup sugar

1 tsp. Salt

2 tbsp. Nutmeg

2 cups bourbon

2 oz. Rum (The Booze is optional! Most of the time he makes a mixture of bourbon, rum, and brandy.)

½ c. powdered sugar

4 cups heavy cream

4 cups milk

½ gallon vanilla ice cream

1. Beat egg yolks until creamy; beat in sugar, salt, vanilla , and nutmeg. Beat in bourbon and rum slowly.

2. Whip egg whites until stiff peaks form, beating in powdered sugar. Add cream and milk to yolk mixture; fold in egg whites.

3. Then use beater as you add ice cream. (The ice cream makes it cold and frothy).

[The mixture can be made ahead and refrigerated for several hours - then add in the ice cream.]

Pour it into a classy glass, grate some nutmeg - et voila!!

Did you know that nutmeg is a hallucinogenic?

(Turns out you'd need to eat an awful lot before it took effect though...)

The gift of new music

2011-12-07T21:48:00.000Z

It's great to be able to have fun for free and, fortunately, London provides more opportunities than you might think for such things. I'm a particular fan of free musical experiences, which often come courtesy of friends (or friends of friends) who happen to be in bands, or write music, or are just rather talented.

It's especially good when free music turns up on your doorstep without you being required to make any effort in experiencing it. A couple of weeks ago my Tuesday afternoon at the church office was accompanied by the sound of a talented young man making a music video. [For one occasion only, I was able to use "I'm sorry, I can't answer your phone call, there's a music video being filmed in the church" as an excuse.] Such a scenario could have been awful, had the music been rubbish, but luckily it wasn't - probably owing to the fact that he writes his music with our worship leader and my wise friend's husband. Genii, the lot of them. One of the videos he filmed is below (both were covers), but there's lots more of his material on his YouTube channel. I think the church looks rather good in them too...

I also rather like it when good music is in cahoots with a good cause. The Lorelles are fab and lovely generally, but the fact that they're giving all the proceeds from their single Riot in Your Heart to the Ignito Project [for whom I walked the Thames Path earlier this year] is brilliant. I urge you to buy it...

Then there's the joy of discovering brand new music while at the same time having a cracking night out and catching up with friends unseen for far too long. Monday was such a night, courtesy of MoRo's launch of their debut album Slow River. They're an interesting combination of Motown and rock (I'm beginning to see where their name might come from...) and also the performers of the best cow bell interlude I've ever witnessed.

Consider these recommendations an early Christmas present from me. You're welcome.

Christmas Jumper Day

2011-12-05T18:59:00.000Z

Today was a special day...
not because it was the first essay deadline of my Vicar School career;
nor because it was the last day of my first term;
but because today was officially designated 'Christmas Jumper Day'.

I've never owned a Christmas Jumper before, but have on several occasions bought one for my sister (it's an essential component of her Christmas list). Early on in life at Vicar School, Christmassy jumpers became something of a theme - enough for there to be a little group of jumper wearers while we were in France. At our last residential, more jumpers appeared and there was much discussion over Twitter as to who was acquiring jumpers and from where. [Obvious displacement activity during essay writing time.] I acquired mine from *cough* Primark *cough* and went for the jumper-dress option, just to be different.

It's become something of a craze amongst the 1st years - I suspect the rest of the college are looking on longingly thinking "just you wait, this time next year life won't be so carefree...". A 3rd year commented to me this morning that it was "very cute" to be able to recognise the 1st years (not at all patronising!).

Anyway, a photo opportunity was essential - though sadly three Christmas Jumper wearers were missing at this moment. Here are the results:

To quote a comment on Facebook - 'Gap Christmas advert 2012'

- I reckon vicars-to-be would be perfect models for Christmas apparel!

Yep, these are the people that'll be running churches across the country in a few years time. Terrifying thought, isn't it?

Friday Fun with a Festive Twist - Week 1

2011-12-02T10:36:00.000Z

It seems inevitable that for the next few Fridays, the Fun will have a Festive twist. I don't have the energy to resist it, so if you're unhappy about it, simply leave these posts until closer to the big day...

Firstly, a wonderful song about gifts and the importance of pants. Folk On were a Greenbelt discovery and they really are rather delightful - what's not to like about a Christmas song about underwear? [Warning: contains elements of nudity, therefore may not be suitable for office viewing.]

Secondly, something that is definitely a family favourite - well, in the Clutterbuck clan at least. You may be aware that my mother has something of an obsession with nativity sets, so it's unsurprising that a blogpost entitled '27 Worst Nativity Sets' caught our attention. To be fair, I think the author might be a little harsh - I'm rather keen on a couple of the food-based ones, particularly the Smores one (less so the one made of meat) and I particularly appreciate the skill involved in creating this cupcake based one:

The author is still receiving submissions, so the total's gone over 27 now. Based on its current content, I reckon my mother's Inuit Nativity stands a chance...

Finally, an excellent example of Puppet Ministry and spurious use of Queen songs - the Bethlemanian Rhapsody. (Guess which Queen song it uses?) Cheesy, but utterly fabulous.

Happy Advent

2011-12-01T10:06:00.000Z

The season of Advent is upon us - or, at least, the uncomfortable gap between the beginning of liturgical Advent (i.e. the first Sunday of Advent) and the day Advent calendars begin (December 1st) has been bridged. This means that it is finally time to unpack and unveil my brand new Advent calendar...

...yes, I am aware that most people have new calendars every year (unless they close up the doors carefully so it can be used again), but mine is both new and eternal. In past years, my mother has sent me and my sister and Advent calendar - since Divine started producing Fair Trade chocolate, religious-themed calendars. [Until that point, chocolate ones were verboten because they were never religious.] This year, a mysterious parcel appeared in late September, and I was a little surprised to discover that it was a nativity themed reusable Advent calendar. [My mum, being sensible, ordered ones as soon as she spotted them, in fear that they'd sell out. Wise move - I can't link to the product because it has, indeed, sold out.]

So on Monday night I spent some time preparing the calendar for me and the Norwegians. (Amusingly, I was a day ahead of myself, thinking that it was the 1st yesterday and knowing that Tuesday was busy. Ho hum.) The basic premise is that there are 24 felt Nativity characters, with 24 pockets in which to place them. Each day a new character is added to the stable scene above - with the added bonus of a Terry's Chocolate Orange Segment in the pocket too. Simple concept, but I spent a not inconsiderable length of time pondering how it was going to work.

The inspirational catalogue image. (It's from Lakeland, if you're wondering.)

First issue - what character should go in #24? The obvious answer is of course Jesus, what with it being his birth that we're celebrating, but the Biblical scholar in me was stuck on the true chronology of things - after all, the Wise Men didn't meet Jesus until some time later. However a tweet from my previous Vicar's wife assured me that Jesus was always the answer (as indeed it is in the under 6's group we led), so into #24 Jesus popped. Then there were the Wise Men themselves - I appeared to have four:

I was puzzled and consulted Twitter. Not one but three friends responded with the glaringly obvious information that three had crowns and one didn't. *Blushes* Anyway, the calendar is done, the Norwegians are excited, and it turns out Popping Candy Segments are rather fabulous.

Ready for the off.

In case you're after some further Advent edification, I have two top recommendations:

1. The 24-7 Prayer podcasts. There's a video released every day throughout Advent with a different focus for prayer. I used the first one (below) with the students on Tuesday and it worked really well - they especially liked the moment Pete Greig created a large ball of fire. Goes to show that we all have an inner pyromaniac...

2. The Swingle Singers Yule Songs EP. Released, appropriately, on Advent Sunday, it includes a beautiful version of O Come, O Come Emmanuel which also has an interesting video accompaniment. Plus, there's the utterly gorgeous arrangement of O Holy Night that captivated me when I heard it live last Christmas and some new compositions. An appropriate addition to anyone's Christmas playlist.

Happy Advent!

Thanks where thanks is due

2011-11-30T14:14:00.002Z

I think there's a general feeling of bitterness among the British that, during the last week of November, the Americans get an extra holiday - specifically, an extra food-based holiday. As Jimmy Carr put it on Twitter:
"It’s Thanksgiving today. Long story short it’s where Americans give thanks to the English for inventing them. You’re welcome."

Before my American friends assault me, yes, I'm being glib. I'm also deliberately avoiding the thorny issue of the fate that awaited the Native Americans who so kindly assisted the first settlers...

Anyway, this year I was very pleased to welcome the holiday (albeit a day late) into my life. On Friday, a community of 40 people gathered in Mile End to celebrate and give thanks - and to eat a vast quantity of food. I am very thankful indeed...

Firstly, I have to be thankful for college giving me permission to skip an evening of #VicarWeekend in order to be there. [All I missed was a Church History lecture on the Middle Ages - nothing happened then, right??]

I am thankful that a professional chef (and his wife) flew in from Texas to cook for us. [I am less thankful that the Turkey was named Millicent on Twitter prior to eating - my pseudo-vegetarian sensibilities mean that I'm not so keen on eating named animals. But the fact that Millicent, once cooked, had to be transported from Bethnal Green to Mile End in a taxi rather makes up for it. Comedy.]

The Mash Mountain (& accompaniments) and Millicent, in the oven...

I am thankful for the opportunity to use a fiercely powered blender (and learn some new skills). My black-bean hummus may have looked grim, but it was delicious. If someone could send a blender my way, I'll be knee-deep in hummus before I know it! [The less said about the fantastically gross activity that was squeezing cloves of roasted garlic, the better...some people have very dirty minds.]

I wasn't sure that I'd be particularly thankful for eggnog, but it seems that it is actually the alcoholic beverage of the Gods (at least Shannon's Step-Dad's recipe is). Yum. Yum. Yum.

First ever eggnog, which was closely followed by a second.

(And then followed by a pint of water.)

I'm less thankful for the invention of American Football. The ball is a stupid shape, meaning that it doesn't bounce/travel through the air in the way that one would expect it to. This means that one looks like a total idiot when one tries to kick it in the air, only for it to return to earth narrowly missing one's head...

I'm especially thankful for the presence of a 5 day old baby (no name yet) at Thanksgiving. I'm thankful for his safe arrival; his intense adorableness; and the fact that I got to hold him for a few blissful minutes. Honestly, there are few ills in the world that can't be put right by a cuddle with a newborn. [I actually have a theory that there would be fewer wars if world leaders spent more time holding babies...]

Most of all, I'm thankful for Shannon and the Matroyshka Haus community. For Shannon, who had the idea in the first place; and the community that's gathered around her - both of which are now very special fixtures in my life. A year ago I barely knew most of the people I spent Friday with; now, I see them most weeks and have just booked my second trip to France with them.

I believe Thanksgiving is all about family, and I'm really pleased that I got to experience my first one with my London brothers and sisters.

When the Spirit moves through Jenga

2011-11-28T16:14:00.001Z

A compulsory component of college residentials (aka #VicarWeekend) is the Saturday evening fellowship group meetings (also, cynically, known as forced friendship groups). These groups are a way of helping us get to know students from other years and other centres (of which there are two in addition to the one I go to). Nice idea and generally a nice concept - it's just that the unnatural, forced element of it is always there.

Last Saturday our fellowship group leaders had two options for our time together:
(i) Play Jenga
(ii) Pray for each other
Being a holy huddle, the conclusion was to "play Jenga and see where the Spirit leads us". It led us to a fairly unsuccessful first game and an incredibly successful second game - possibly the tensest I've ever played.

In case you're not familiar with the concept, Jenga basically involves a lot of wooden bricks assembled into a tower. The aim is to remove bricks from the tower and place them at the top until the tower falls down and it's great because there's basically no winner - just one loser. (Handy for competitive types like me.) You can - as I discovered on Saturday - also up the tension by playing appropriate music as a soundtrack. O Fortuna from Carmina Burana (the X Factor judges' music) worked rather well; while some tinny Christmas music simply made the situation more ridiculous than it was already.

Such fun!

Friday Fun with molluscs

2011-11-25T09:17:00.000Z

Last Saturday, I sat on a sofa with a group of friends and watched a couple of YouTube videos on TV. [This in itself is still something of a novelty...] There was much squealing and ahhhing, followed by impressions of the lead character over dinner. Instantly I knew what the next Friday Fun would have to be...

The first Marcel the Shell with Shoes video came out over a year ago, but I only discovered it last weekend when a friend who was already a fan discovered that a second one had emerged. They're beautiful shorts, about a little shell called Marcel who wears shoes - he drives a bug (though he can't control where it goes); he sleeps in bread; has a raisin for a couch; and is petrified of a pet dog. Watch both, you really won't be disappointed!

Interestingly, when asked how my friend first discovered Marcel, it turned out to be because it's Josh Groban's favourite YouTube video. [Not that she'd asked him, you understand - it was a question in an interview.] Mentioning Josh Groban and YouTube in the same sentence allows me to also feature this genius video which combines two of my great loves - Groban and Twitter...

I feel Josh Groban is often mis-labelled as simply an easy-listening, beloved by grannies, singer. In fact, he's utterly hilarious, willing to make fun of himself at the least opportunity - witnessed in his Glee appearances and his legendary hosting of Never Mind the Buzzcocks. Love him. [And for this reason am insanely jealous of one of my oldest friends who got to meet him at his recent Birmingham concert - no fair!] Could someone get me him for Christmas? Cheers.

All of a sudden, I'm a feminist...

2011-11-22T17:00:00.002Z

Recently, I’ve found myself thinking more about the fact that I’m a woman than I have done for a while - or ever, in fact. [No, I haven’t been under the misapprehension that I’m a man in a rather feminine body...] I’ve never labelled myself as a feminist, but I have a sneaky suspicion that I’m now leaning in that direction more than I have done in the past.

Previously I’d been happy with my self-labelled post-feminist nature, however lately it’s seemed that this doesn’t quite cut it. An early indication was my violent reaction to misogyny on a building site (a site on which I was working, I’m not talking wolf-whistling builders). [In fairness, ‘misogyny’ might be a tad harsh, but I strongly disliked the assumptions made as a result of my gender.] Now, I find myself training for ordination in a church that’s divided on whether women can hold senior leadership positions and within a tradition that has a history of restricting women’s roles.

Over the last week an online discussion on the role of women in the church has erupted. It’s always an issue that bubbles under the surface in certain church circles and last week all it took was a Twitter debate (some of it decidedly ungracious in my opinion...) to get it going again. Subsequently, Krish Kandiah wrote a post on the subject, to which Jenny Baker responded, resulting in my being moved me to do something I rarely do - write a serious (and in all probability, very long) post on a contentious issue on my blog...

I don’t intend to get all biblical and recite all the reasons why believe that women have as much of a right as men to lead, but what I do want to do is to share my story and explain why even those who feel this is now a ‘non-issue’ actually do need to care about it.

My church background is Methodist - my parents, yes, both of them, are ordained presbyters in the Methodist Church - and until the summer I worked for the Methodist Church as a researcher (and had a few other jobs with them prior to that). But since 2005 I have worshipped in an evangelical, charismatic Anglican church and, as of September, am now an ordinand in the Church of England.

Growing up in the context I did meant that I saw women taking an equal role in the life of the church - women have been ordained as presbyters in British Methodism for decades. It was something of a shock to me when (while a pupil at a rather conservative CofE primary school) I discovered that not all churches allowed women to be ordained. For secondary school I was shipped off to an all-girls CofE comprehensive that is still known in London as being fiercely feminist - we had ‘Her-story’ classes when ‘History’ was deemed too masculine! This was in the early 1990’s when the ordination of women was finally becoming a realistic prospect. I vividly recall the day a member of staff interrupted an RS lesson with the news that General Synod had voted in favour of women becoming priests - it was a moment of rejoicing for the whole school - and I suspect I (naively) thought this was the end of the battle in terms of equality in the church.

My entire secondary education was spent in all-girls schools where we were urged to reach beyond the glass ceiling, but honestly, as far as I was concerned, I couldn’t see why there should be any problem in breaking through it. In fact, we saw it as a bit of a joke - would feminism really be needed in the 21st century? We didn’t think so.

At university I had my first encounter with a Christian woman who didn’t believe that women should be ordained - I was stunned. It was another black mark against the Christian Union and I labelled them as crazies and assumed they weren’t particularly common.

Then I had my spiritual transformation. [I jest, slightly. It wasn’t a road to Damascus experience, I simply found a church that was unlike any I’d ever experienced before and felt at home there.] I found myself in a church where I couldn’t take peoples’ views on women for granted - yes, the vicar supported women in leadership and spoke on the issue a number of times, but it couldn’t be assumed of everyone. After the vicar spoke to the men and women of the church separately on the subject, I found myself in the pub after church defending my beliefs (and, what was now emerging as my calling). One man even said that he wouldn’t want a woman leading his church because he knew a lot of stupid women. You know what? I know a lot of idiot men who shouldn’t be vicars, but it doesn’t mean that the whole gender should be banned from leading!

As I’ve pursued my calling to ordination, I’ve faced some interesting questions and conversations. One of my closest (female) friends belongs to a New Frontiers church and doesn’t believe in women holding leadership positions in church - but, she supports my calling. There have been friends in the Methodist Church who have questioned my move into a church where women currently can’t be bishops, to whom I’ve responded with a belief that things will change and that things certainly can’t change if women like me decide to avoid the very places where change needs to happen. Very recently I was at an event where someone asked “why do you feel called to ordination?” and I quickly realised that she wasn’t asking out of interest, she was asking because she believed women shouldn’t be ordained - it made me angry, but I answered rationally and truthfully.

Now I find myself in a place where I have to keep asking the “where are the women?” question. Not because my parish isn’t supportive - it very definitely is; and not because my theological college isn’t - it clearly is too; but because there just still aren’t enough women around. Yesterday I was bemoaning the lack of women on a list of ‘ordinand consultants’ [the staff were also bemoaning this, and asked for suggestions] - the one woman featured specialised in children’s work, thus confirming a typical stereotype. I am actively seeking out women who are in my line of work and who I feel I could be inspired by and who could inspire others. I am battling feelings of despondency when I look around the room at meetings and see that all the other women are vicar’s wives. I’m not going to stop asking the question until those situations change.

While I’ve been writing this, someone on Twitter has suggested that women in leadership is an ‘irrelevant’ issue - a (female, ordained) friend concurred and I weighed in with my opinion that for the sake of women where this is a relevant issue, we need to all keep fighting. Both the tweeters are Methodists and I agree, in Methodism it’s irrelevant. While conducting my Missing Generation research project last year, gender was never mentioned as an issue, something my Quaker research assistant found extraordinary - there are people in Methodism who like to think that it’s a massive issue, but honestly, it isn’t. Yes, you need to make sure that there is an even gender-representation at all levels of the church (and yes, there is currently just one women in its senior management team), but seriously British Methodists, you’ve got it pretty sorted! [Just please, please, please lay off the gender neutrality in liturgy/hymns issue!] It turned out that the tweeter actually meant that the issue of male/female equality was irrelevant to modern society - but I don’t agree there either. For as long as Iceland persist in using ‘That’s why Mum’s gone to Iceland’ as a slogan, we are not a truly egalitarian society!

To throw my own opinion into Krish’s theory that there can be a middle ground - I don’t believe there can be. As Jenny points out, such a middle ground requires a significant number of women to be denied doing what they believe God is calling them to do. What we need to do is to keep talking; to not get angry, defensive or abusive; to listen to differing opinions; and, ultimately, for people to be enabled in following their vocation.

Parental tweeting goes Gaga

2011-11-21T21:51:00.000Z

This post is very late in its writing, not because of my own shortcomings, but because (like any good, non News International) journalist, I needed to corroborate the facts before sharing and my mother and I have been incommunicado for the last fortnight...

Two weeks ago, I took a sneaky look at Twitter during my Monday morning theology lecture [I say 'two weeks ago', obviously I regularly take sneaky looks at Twitter during lectures...] and nearly burst out laughing. My mother had tweeted the following:
"The woman on the desk tells me the exec lounge is full of celebs. I am totally underwhelmed, no idea who anyone is!"

My mother was at one of the Belfast airports, travelling to London. The day before, Belfast had hosted the star-studded MTV Europe awards - possibly the most exciting thing to happen in the city for quite some time. I'd been aware that this was happening, but was fairly certain that my parents would have been oblivious, unless it resulted in local road closures and significant airtime on Radio Ulster. Obviously, all these (non-Irish) celebs needed to leave the province and flying is the logical way out...

What many who follow my mother on Twitter may not have realised is that the 'woman on the desk' told her about the musicians in the Executive Lounge because she is a regular user of the Executive Lounge - it's the best use of frequent flyer points when you fly frequently. Thus, I was particularly amused when the following Twitter conversation emerged between Mum and my friend Jo:

Jo: "The lady wearing odd hats is likely to be Gaga. The person whom everyone is gaga over is likely to be Justin Bieber..."

Mum: "Thanks that's really helpful. Woman in funny hat with big shades might be Gaga!"

Jo, until I had brunch with her later in the week, was utterly unaware that my mother had taken her tweet seriously - not realising that she was genuinely sat in an exec lounge, watching the curious celebs around her. When I finally spoke to my mother, she said that Jo's tweet was really helpful, as otherwise she'd have had no idea who these people possibly were. Bless them both.

To think, when my mother first joined Twitter I was worried it might be a bad idea...

Eclectic Friday Fun

2011-11-18T07:31:00.003Z

I'm not even going to attempt tenuous links between today's offerings - they're all utterly unrelated, but their diversity should provide you with some entertainment, even if your taste in fun doesn't precisely match mine...

First up is a bit of culture. Earlier this week, the Hairpin linked to a gallery of Life magazine's most boring covers, which proved to be much more entertaining than you might imagine it to be. (Surprisingly, many of them were Christmas editions.) Then it emerged that there was also an o nline gallery of famous magazines' first covers - very intriguing. The two galleries will probably divert you for at least 5 minutes, so that's a decent Friday morning distraction.

That's Vogue and National Geographic - both have come a long way since they began.

Picking up the ever amusing subject of cats on the internet, I also offer you Louis Vs Rick, the story of what happens when a man teaches his cat to IM - delightful. Here's a sample of their conversation to whet your appetite:

LouisTheCat:	THIS IS AMAZING
LouisTheCat:	WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME THIS BEFORE
RickDickens77:	Well, it's not really.. I mean, you can use it for certain things, but usually people don't use it because it looks like yelling.
LouisTheCat:	I KNOW ITS PERFECT
LouisTheCat:	CAPS LOCK IS HOW I FEEL INSIDE RICK
LouisTheCat:	ALL THE TIME
RickDickens77:	Well keep it to yourself, I'm trying to get things done so I can bring you dinner.
LouisTheCat:	ITS GONNA BE A WHOLE NEW ME RICK

Thirdly, it wouldn't be Friday without the opportunity for some frivolous dancing, so I offer you an interesting take on the 'choreographed first wedding dance' thing, this time with the Father of the Bride burning up the dance floor...

It also wouldn't be a proper Friday of Fun without some singing - or, given the end of last week's fun, some Lady Gaga. How about a group of older people singing Bad Romance in a Chinese dialect, accompanied by Beijing's Crystal Orchestra? It's both sublime and ridiculous!

I'm beginning to wonder if I should make Gaga a regular Friday feature - there appears to be enough random interpretations of her work on the internet to keep this blog full for quite some time to come...

Have a delectable Friday!

Call me Klutzerbuck...

2011-11-16T22:23:00.000Z

I seem to go through phases of ridiculous klutziness. Weeks, if not months, can pass with only minor walking into furniture incidents (it's normal to regularly have unexplained bruises, isn't it?), then all of a sudden I'll have a run of utterly idiotic accidents. The last week has been one such season...

Last Wednesday, I was walking from the gym to the office - a journey that takes under 10 minutes - and managed to bump into three fellow pedestrians. Yes, it was a busy road; yes, I was carrying not one but three bags; but still, it's somewhat excessive. One would be unfortunate, two is unusual and three is downright idiotic.

That evening I suffered an even worse knock to my body (and my dignity). After a marvellous gig at Cadogan Hall, I paused in Sloane Square to admire the Christmas lights and check my messages. I went to sit down on a nearby bench and...missed. My bottom made contact with the ground rather than the comfort of a wooden bench. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice and I seemed to be fairly unscathed - able to go on a little stroll along the King's Road for frozen yoghurt subsequently. It prompted me to found a new #LizFail hashtag on Twitter, little expecting that I'd have cause to use it just four days later...

See, pretty Sloane Square!

It turns out that my delightful MacBook can injure when provoked. Those of you on Twitter may have heard the explanation of my MacBook mishap, but I didn't divulge it on Facebook - merely mentioning that it was its fault that I had a fat lip on Sunday night.

Picture the scene: It's 9.30pm on a Sunday night and I'm in bed, catching up with the weekend's Graham Norton show. [Yes, I was in bed by 9.30pm - Sundays are busy and Mondays are even busier, don't judge me. I do realise that only 3 months ago I would only be arriving at the pub at that time on a Sunday evening, how times change!] Because it was a tad chilly, I had my arms under the duvet - one doesn't usually need their fingers when one is watching TV online. At some point, I moved my legs, disturbing my MacBook and sending on a trajectory towards my face. My arms couldn't emerge in time and I could do nothing to stop in from hitting me - which it did, right in the centre of my top lip.

For a good few minutes I lay in the dark with tears streaming down my face, tentatively checking that my front teeth were still present. (Praise the Lord they were!) Then I noticed the blood - I had managed to inflict actual bodily harm upon myself thanks to my favourite Apple product. Utterly ridiculous.

It's at this point I have to thank the Tweeter who responded to my sheepish "My Macbook has just given me a fat (& cut) lip - don't even ask how that happened... #LizFail" with "did u insult it & ask it if it could run windows 7?" [sic]. Tres amusant.

Thing is, do you what's not good with a cut lip (especially in that particularly position)? Laughing, or even a wide grin. Monday morning saw me regularly holding my lip in an effort to prevent it splitting when ever amusement overtook me. Quite ridiculous. You know what else isn't good? Vinegar. What on earth was I thinking by eating bread dipped in vinegar when I had a hole in my mouth?! Ouch doesn't even begin to describe the agony. Fortunately, the mouth heals quickly and three days later there is definite improvement - I just still can't afford a sudden burst of hysterical laughter.

What have I learned? That MacBooks should be handled with much care and that I definitely shouldn't consider getting my klutz trousers out of my wardrobe any time soon. Oh, and perhaps I should change my surname to Klutzerbuck...

The dangers of surprises

2011-11-15T18:13:00.000Z

Surprises are tricky things. Some people just don't like them - like my Dad (it's a good job the last surprise I sprang on my parents was aimed more at my mother than him...), and other surprises have to be done in the right way in order for them to be appreciated properly. For example, when surprising me with a weekend in Paris, my Mum & sister sensibly gave me a month's warning so that I could plan my trip (I love surprises, but I like planning travel itineraries even more). I adore surprises - it's why I have an Amazon wishlist, so people don't have to ask what I want as a gift (yet still ensuring that it's something I actually want). Surprises are definitely something I'd love to have more of in my life.

Birthday surprises are particularly tricky. Make it a total surprise and you run the risk that the recipient will think that everyone's forgotten them and make most of their special day utterly miserable. A recent addition to the 30 Club was given a surprise of this variety, but luckily they'd twigged that something was up - otherwise I'd have feared for the consequences. This past weekend saw another 30th surprise, but I was worried for a different reason - the birthday girl seemed very keen to ignore the day, what if she resented the sudden appearance of several of her closest friends?

In the end, it was a fabulous day. The plan was well orchestrated by birthday girl's sister - all we were doing was joining her family on an already planned day out involving the Lord Mayor's Show and fireworks. (Well done London for putting on such a spectacular event in honour of Jenni's 30th!) Jenni was suitably shocked and there were squeals and tears - all in all, it had the desired effect.

Should you ever be in London on the second Saturday of November, I highly recommend catching the Lord Mayor's procession. It's a eccentric bit of London history (it's taken place for over 800 years) and involves all the classic bits of English pageantry that tourists assume happens all the time - marching military bands, people in odd clothes, gold carriages, plenty of horses (also in odd clothes), floats carrying scantily clad women, oh, and Stephen Fry...

To quote Gill (whose Dad took this photo): "IT'S STEPHEN FRY"

(He heard, turned round and waved - bless him.)

We were rather late to the party, passing through the Strand as people began relax after the parade, but passed the Royal Courts just as the Lord Mayor arrived so got a glimpse of the main piece of action. We also caught some of the procession on its return, as we made our way to Pizza Express and phase two of the birthday celebration. On our way to surprise the birthday girl, we also came across a surprising roadblock:

Did you know the MET have regulation board shorts?

The other element of the Lord Mayor's 'thing' is a fireworks display over the Thames. Unlike the New Year's display, you can get an excellent viewing point simply by turning up an hour before it kicks off. We were right in the middle of Waterloo bridge, meaning that we had a totally unobscured view of the fireworks exploding from a barge in front of us. There are a few things you ought to be aware of though:

Coffee places near the bridge get very busy immediately prior to the fireworks. Nipping off for hot beverages 45 minutes before the display may sound reasonable - in actual fact it means you'll get stuck in an abnormally long queue and then get prevented from crossing the bridge due to the crowds that have congregated in your absence.
Old ladies can have very sharp elbows and few manners. While trying to preserve space for the beverage-getters, we had to see off a few potential invaders. In most cases the 'saving space dance' and loud talk of the returning friends "who were here first, but have gone to buy tea" sufficed, but one particular lady could not be deterred. She pushed, poked and prodded - nearly knocking over Jules in the process - and was generally rather annoying. [We weren't utterly heartless though. Once it became clear that they weren't coming back, we let her in - but she could have asked nicely and said thank-you though.]
Standing on a bridge leaves you rather exposed to the elements. It was windy and this meant that not only was it chilly, but the fireworks were blown in our direction - slightly nerve wrecking.
Birthday biscuits are an excellent firework accompaniment.
People will always get carried away with taking photos of the sparkly things, especially if their camera has a firework setting...

On the left, my firework setting; on the right, Gill's 'proper' photo.

The loss of the beverage-getters had one advantage, it enabled them to purchase something without which no birthday would be complete: champagne. (Ok, so it was cava, sue me...) Of course, for al fresco champagne drinking, one needs appropriate receptacles and what better than some Starbucks red cups?

It looks like I was a little dubious of the ethics of the situation...

(Or, wondering if anyone would notice that I'd somehow acquired two cups.)

Happy birthday Jenni!

Friday Fun in a flash

2011-11-11T09:29:00.000Z

The flash mob is a wonderful thing, as long as it's done well. Fortunately, this week I have a couple that were done extremely well and are probably almost as fun to watch as they were to perform...

First up is one that was emailed to me by a friend's mother who actually participated in it. Annoyingly, I could have experienced it in the flesh as it took place at St Pancras' Eurostar terminal, but ironically, I had departed to vicar week from the very same terminal just a few days previously. I defy you not to do some air conducting as you watch it - it is quite literally a classic flash mob... (Though I imagine the orchestra was something of a give away.)

Because I like to show off my connections, I also know someone in the next flash mob - one that I believe went viral while I was in France. One of the singers is my sister's best friend from uni (her partner in crime for many an inappropriate comedy routine - never go out in public with the two of them) and it's quite honestly one of the most beautiful things ever to have happened on a train to Watford. [Plus, I am consistently amused that the acronym for the Adam Street Singers is ASS - did they think that through?]

On Wednesday I had an awesome evening with the Swingle Singers, a group who have become so famed for their involvement in flash mobs that they actually worked their set around them. (I am inordinately jealous of the woman who became the centre of attention during a flash mob rendition of Hello by the loveliest Swingle...) Although I know I've mentioned it a few times, I don't think I've ever properly featured their original flash mob, so here it is:

And, while we're on the subject of award winning a cappella vocal groups which involve people that I know, this is an appropriate moment to mention The Songmen, who won not one but two awards at the Tolosa International Choral Contest last week. [No, I hadn't heard of it either, but this is apparently a big deal.] I highly recommend becoming their fan on Facebook and acquiring their forthcoming album - it has one of the most beautiful renditions of Bright Eyes on it and is generally rather lush*. There's no video of that track yet, but here's their interpretation of Mr Bojangles:

*In no way has my brother-in-law paid me to say this. It is purely my own opinion.

As far as I'm aware, The Songmen haven't been in a flash mob, but it's probably only a matter of time...

Finally, as we're on the subject of interesting musical performances, how about a Lady Gaga fugue played on a 250 year old organ? I'm laying that one down as a challenge to church organists everywhere.

Bravery in music & blogging

2011-11-09T17:24:00.000Z

In life, there are many things about which I am insecure. One area in which I'm trying to be a lot more confident is my taste in music...
I love musicals. Fact.
I'm not averse to quite a lot of classical music. (Except opera - I feel that this is as unlikely to change as my attitude to seafood is.)
Christian soft rock gets played at church, I like singing it, thus I own quite a lot of it.
90's Indie music will always have a special place in my heart and so will the music of my parents (well, my Dad mostly) - especially Simon & Garfunkel, Ella Fitzgerald, Joni Mitchell and the Beatles.
Sometimes, all you want from life is a Celine Dion singalong.

Despite my attempts at confidence, it makes me a little nervous when I let people into my world of music. Attempts to keep my Spotify account 'respectable' failed quickly - though I do keep a lot of my playlists hidden from general view, publicly listing only those into which considerable effort has gone. With my CD cases now in boxes, it's difficult for people to see my 'real' music collection as it mostly only exists in my iTunes library - something that generally, isn't accessible to anyone but me.

So, it was with a sense of trepidation that I recently handed over my iPod, containing my entire iTunes library, to a friend who had been iPod-less for quite some time. It was just a short term loan, prior to them acquiring an iPhone, but I was very conscious that my music taste was about to become very exposed. Thanks to my own iPhone and Spotify account, little by way of music has been added to it in the last year, but I'd kept it purely for the fact that, unlike my phone, it holds my whole collection. I needn't have worried though - the next time I saw this friend it emerged that they'd been quite impressed with my taste. To quote: "Well, you did have four Blur albums." (No similar comment was made about the four S Club 7 albums, for example.) [Btw, I used 'quite' as a qualifier in the sense that they weren't that impressed, but somewhat surprised at the number of pleasant discoveries they made.]

Phew. However, there were other issues that I hadn't fully considered...

Firstly, exposing your library of albums is one thing, but playlists are another. I know for a fact that I am not the only person in the world to create playlists for specific situations - I'm not talking car journeys or parties, I'm talking emotional turmoil moments. [How do I know I'm not alone? Because I was once given a copy of a mix-tape a friend had made as a tribute to some random guy she was mad about - I can but assume that other people do likewise.] It was only after handing over my iPod that I ran through the list of playlists in my head and, sure enough, there was one such item. If I share that it included Breaking Free (of High School Musical fame), Will Young's Leave Right Now and the Destiny's Child classic Survivor, you'll appreciate just how high calibre it was. [Incidentally, I'm not sure what it is about me, Beyoncé and emotional moments - my current motivational song is Best Thing I Never Had.] *Cringe*

Within minutes of relinquishing the iPod, I had a terrifying realisation. (Yes, more terrifying than possible judgement on musical tastes.) There was a strong possibility that the pod contained tracks with me singing on it. In fact, I already knew that it definitely did - the three albums I've recorded were on there. [Just dropping that in there - did you know I'd recorded three albums? Obviously they're not just me, and you can't actually hear me on any of it - bar one track on the third album - but I'm on them all the same.] There was also the live concert recording that includes one of my most embarrassing moments. But none of these things were what had terrified me, it was the fear that some of my iPhone 'voice memos' were on there.

I'm not sure what most iPhone users use this function for, but in my world it comes in particularly useful at gospel choir rehearsals when you need to record parts for between rehearsals practising. Occasionally, one might want to use it to record an exciting moment at a gig, or an amusing bit of conversation. But the other primary use in my little world is for recording karaoke.

Shameful confession: Sometimes, when I'm all alone in the flat, I play karaoke tracks/YouTube videos and sing along - ok, that in itself is not shameful. What is shameful is that I record myself (on my phone) in order to monitor my progress and analyse my performance. How sad is that?! So, you can imagine my concern that an entire playlist of that dross might have ended up in the wrong hands! Fortunately, those particular tracks hadn't made it onto the iPod - when I checked there was a recording from the Matthew Morrison gig and assorted bits from summer gospel choir rehearsals - all fairly uncringeworthy.

So that's got an awful lot out into the open:
I'm not so ashamed of my taste in music, and I've divulged two potentially shameful habits that I won't be ending any time soon. Who needs therapy when you have a blog?

Treasures in Tewks

2011-11-08T21:38:00.001Z

It's great having siblings that know you well. Over half-term (how great is it to have half-terms again?!) I paid a flying visit to the shire, [well, I say 'flying', First Great Western got my there fairly speedily by train] and as a special treat, my sister had saved an exciting activity for us to do while I was there...

Tewkesbury, on the surface, is a fairly sleepy town. You can walk round it in 20 minutes. It doesn't have a wide range of shops (its M&S closed down over a year ago), it does have an ancient abbey. The most dramatic thing to have happened there was the Battle of Tewkesbury in 1471 (part of the War of the Roses) - until 2007, when the town was over-run with water:

Thus, the thought of a exciting activity based in the town was rather intriguing - even more so when I discovered it was part of a fundraising activity from church (which in her case is the aforementioned abbey) - but my interest was truly awakened when I realised it was a competitive quiz:

That's the quiz sheet - a collection of 30 images involving parts of the town (in a defined geographical area) and the abbey. Our mission was to locate them all and we only had a morning. Joyful. I love a good mission and a random adventure!

Luckily, she'd already identified a few of them (like number 25 - the West Window of the abbey photographed from below) so the task was slightly less daunting. Off we headed to the abbey, where we certainly did not use Verger contacts in order to get a head start... We foolishly assumed that #16 was part of a stained glass window - more fool us, how did we not realise it was a roof boss? [Who knew 'roof boss' was the official term for those things on the ceilings of abbeys/cathedrals?] However, it was once we left the abbey that things got really exciting.

In addition to the super-exciting quiz, Mim also took the opportunity to show me hidden nooks and crannies of the town. As we ventured up one alley, we unexpectedly found #11, quickly followed by #5 and #23. The next alley yielded even more - and our shouts of excitement with each new discovery were getting louder. As we paused for a breather (and to write down further answers using a bin as a desk) we spotted another three. Within an hour and a half of starting, we'd crossed off the majority - leaving just a few for Mim to finish off with some younger friends.

But the treasures of Tewkesbury did not end there. In the summer, I had an unexpected phone call from my mother, asking me questions about Chalet School hardbacks thanks to a discovery in the town's second hand bookshop - it yielded me a copy of The Chalet School Goes To It. Clearly, I needed to make my own visit, though there were serious money implications. Within seconds of stepping over the threshold, I spied a shelf of familiar spines. My sister likes to help other people spend their money and she soon had me convinced that the two first editions and fully dust-jacketted hardbacks I held in my hand were veritable bargains (they really were, but it still came to quite a lot of money). Then, I glimpsed the cabinet...

...I think most Chalet School fans covet a few particular titles owing to their dust-jackets (it isn't just me, is it?) and I would suspect that a highly sought after one would be The Chalet School Reunion, as its jacket features a collection of characters, with a key as to who's who. As I approached the till to pay for my discoveries, I spotted three CS books in the cabinet - and there was an immaculate Reunion. (Plus two immaculate Coming of Age of the Chalet School. All three were first editions.) One of the books cost the same as the three I held in my hand, but I was tempted. At least I have now held those books, and that's something.

Joey Goes to the Oberland, A Genius at the Chalet School & Shocks for the Chalet School

Go, visit Tewks! (Just don't buy the Chalet School books I left behind.) Or, if you can't be bothered, devise your own photographic treasure hunt and invite your friends along for a competitive afternoon of random object hunting. Fun for everyone.

Who said ordinands were meant to be responsible?

2011-11-07T09:32:00.003Z

I was under the impression that only mature, responsible individuals entered the priesthood (yes, I realise that I am not necessarily in that category - but perhaps I'm the exception to the rule). However, after a week in France with 100 other vicars-to-be, I have discovered that this is definitely not the case. It seems that in fact, many of the students find it all to easy to connect with their teenage selves...

One can understand how childish games might become fun in a foreign monastery with free-flowing red wine. Boo Yeah! was a discovery on our first residential and it's on its way to becoming a firm favourite. [It's like Hot/Cold, but with yells, screams and humiliating actions.] Then there's Guess the Kitchen Implement? - never has an extractor fan been so hilarious. How would you mime such an object? [That game is immensely simple - you mime the action of a kitchen implement. I suggest beginning with a corkscrew and getting progressively more complicated.] My personal favourite was miming one of those egg timers that changes colour in the water.

Anyone ever played spoons? It's a classic youth group game - enough spoons for all but one of the group; a pack of cards; when the first person gets a set of cards, they reach for a spoon and everyone follows; person left spoonless is out. Sounds fairly tame, but it's vicious. It's not often that I participate in games that involve pre-match rules on which areas of the body to avoid (we specified faces and specifically those wearing glasses). Despite this, the end of the first round saw me prostrate on a table, devoid of glasses and with an elbow in my cheek. Actual blood was shed before I went spoonless (nails dug into fingers) and one player damaged their nose. Ah, the hilarity! It didn't end there - how else should such competitions be settled than by a Chariots of Fire style quad race (at 11pm)? A race in the dark, round slippery floored cloisters, clad only in socks. It's a miracle no bones were broken. (An alternative version involving blankets and towing girls was proposed the following evening but never took place.) Oh, and it couldn't be left with one race - there was another, this time a 4 person relay version. Men...

Poor quality due to darkness and speed, but you get the idea - this was during the relay.

It was the childish pranks that were more surprising. People who follow a certain worship leader on Twitter, may have noticed a reference to a discovering a frog in their bedroom. It turned out this wasn't a natural phenomenon, but a plant by an intrepid ordinand. Retribution was to follow, in this form:

That is no ascetic monastic bedroom, that is a bedroom devoid of all possessions and beds. Genius. No idea how long it took or how many people were involved, but I am impressed. [Note to self: be careful who you play tricks on in future...]

Just in case you think it was only the 'young & trendy' students who were getting up to high jinks, two of my favourite quotes came from students of more advanced years. One opened an act of worship [a boat/ocean themed agape meal] with the sentence "In the words of the Village People..." and proceeded to quote In the Navy. Another, in response to a request that we shout out words of praise and thanksgiving, kicked off the shouting with "Rum punch!" - something that we should always be praising God and thanking Him for. [It was the cocktail deemed most appropriate for a boat based activity...]

[An aside: the 'young & trendy' reference was actually a high point of my week. On the first morning a lecturer came over to the table I and my fellow younger students were sat eating breakfast and said "Spot the young & trendy table" to which one of the group replied "Wow. We've made it." - perhaps we had, but I had to observe the reality: "It's sad that we had to come to theological college for that to happen.". Still, I'll take that - I finally have an area of my life in which I'm cool, that's enough for me.]

Perhaps it's three years at theological college that turn irresponsible wannabe teenagers into mature priests? Evidence from our staff would suggest otherwise. Who got over excited during the bonus University Challenge staff round in the pub quiz? The Assistant Dean and Principal. Who demanded more wine when their answer was considered wrong? A leading, respected theologian who may or may not be married to an Archbishop. It seems there is little hope for the Church of England...

French Fancies

2011-11-05T21:25:00.000Z

Je suis retourné.

It was a week of hard work, early mornings, late nights, free-flowing vin rouge and a surprising amount of fun with people I'd never met two months ago. There's probably a lot to say, but for now I'm sticking to the most important thing - food.

When one discovers one is going to France, one is likely to get excited at the gastronomic opportunities. My week at Chateau Duffy in the summer was notable for its culinary delights - from the simple pleasures of fresh croissants and baguettes daily, to huge quantities of cheese and an orgasmic beef bourginon. (Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I think about that beef...) However, combining the prospect of Francophone cuisine and a Christian conference centre led me to fear the very worst.

On our first evening, my fears were confirmed. Shark steak in curry sauce anyone? My dinner that day consisted of two bowls of soup, 3 slices of white bread (honestly, I don't think I have ever consumed so much white bread in so few days) and cheese. There was always cheese. Every day the lunch (four courses) and dinner (four courses) menus appeared on a screen that changed colour every few seconds. Part of the excitement was working out what the words actually said or meant, the rest being the anticipation of whether it would be edible...

I'm not sure what dessert actually was, but it definitely didn't involve cottage cheese.

Tuesday was a good day (except for my fellow vicars-to-be who got stuck in Lille thanks to a feast day bus time-table) - the kitchen for some inexplicable reason went Flemish. As I am Flemish by descent (a long descent, but the Clutterbucks were once Cloiterboicks who wove wool there) this was a potentially exciting prospect - even more so when I realised that beef and frites were involved. Hands-down, it was one of the best meals of the week. Oh, and it was concluded with this:

Not sure what it's called, but it tasted like a Krispy Kreme. Evil, but goooood.

A major excitement of any overseas trip is shopping - especially food shopping. For many Brits, the word 'Carrefour' is the holy grail of French holidays - a source of exciting biscuits, jams, cheese, and all sorts of other diversions. Merville may not have had one, but it had an Intermarche, the next best thing, so we dutifully went and stocked up. In amongst the chocolate and toys was an unusual discovery:

Yes, that's an advent calendar for cats. It begs a lot of questions:

- Why wasn't there one for dogs too?

- Is there a whole tin of food at the end?

- Is it just a lump of cat food behind each door? Is it wrapped?

- What kind of a cat might want an advent calendar?

- Why?

In answer to the penultimate question, we have a possible candidate - another sighting during our short jaunt through the town of Merville:

That's special, that is...

Oh, and you shouldn't trust everything you see, it's not always what you think it is.

This is not a real cake:

One final thing. Men, when buying last minute presents for your wives from French supermarkets, try to choose things that show some thought and aren't available in the UK. Fizzy cola bottles - even when extra large and with 'extra acid' (assuming this meant they were extra sour) - is not a romantic or thoughtful gift. Just saying.

Some alcoholic, childish Friday Fun

2011-10-28T10:04:00.000+01:00

First up is something that isn't fun of itself, but that in the right hands and filled with the right liquid could be a huge amount of fun - I love handbags and I love wine, so these would be simply awesome:

That is the 'Baggy Winecoat' - a bag in which you can tote a box of wine. I'm assuming everyone's been in a situation where they've thought to themselves "gosh, life would be so much easier if I had a bag for my wine box", I know I have. It comes in a variety of colours, but sadly you have to provide the win yourself. Actually, over the summer I was thinking that in my future life as a vicar, a hipflask might be an important accessory - you know, just for those emergency, alcohol involving pastoral situations? But perhaps the wine bag would be easier to get away with? Something to ponder...

Try-hard segue time: you know who liked lots of wine and probably would have invested in their own Baggy Winecoat? Ally McBeal. Ages ago I found something which I added to my Friday Fun file, but hadn't so far found a suitable outlet for - now, given what will be book-ending this feature, I feel it's finally appropriate. I appreciate that not everyone will remember the great late 1990s TV series as fondly as I do, but the fact that someone had captured her facial expressions so perfectly made me chuckle a lot:

More Ally McBeal faces here. You know what else Ally McBeal liked, besides wine and making weird faces? Dancing babies. You know what I spent a not inconsiderate amount of time watching last night? Videos of dancing children (they're pre-schoolers, so not strictly babies, but it's still cute as).

Who isn't going to have their morning brightened by watching super cute twins dancing (and doing a bit of singing) in front of their TV? A hard-hearted mean person, that's who!

Keep your eyes on the boy on the right - he's a right little mover and is definitely the one with rhythm. If you're really in need of cheeriness, I highly recommend also watching Who Let The Dogs Out and Kung Fu Fighting - super cute! Watching these has also reminded me that I've got a copy of Just Dance for the Wii knocking around that I've never played with, so if anyone fancies emulating the twins, let me know...

Also, just to warn devoted readers that blogging may be light/non-existent for the next week as I'm off to France. No, not to play with scaffolding (sadly), but to have vicar school en Francais for a week. I don't go to France for fourteen years and the I end up going three times in four months - typical!

The challenges of friendship - a photostory

2011-10-26T21:08:00.002+01:00

I have loved getting to know the group of friends I spent last weekend with. It's great to have people with whom you can completely be yourself and who understand the eccentric ways in which you tick. It pleases me that my introvertedness is understood to the extent that I was offered a car ride in France just to have some time-out from the masses and that when conflict looked set to dampen my mood on Sunday morning, I was whisked off for a tour of Chichester.

All such groups have their own dynamics and quirks. A common theme with this particular gathering is never knowing where everyone is at any one time. A cursory glance at my texts reveals four or five messages along the lines of 'where are you', 'do you know where X is?', 'I've been left behind', and 'Don't forget X - she's in the pub'. Sometimes I think it's a miracle we ever get anything done!

On Sunday, we took a walk along the beach at West Wittering. It was beautiful and just what was needed for blowing away cobwebs and having a bit of meditation time. However, in typical fashion, we arrived in two separate groups and it took a while for us to be reunited - despite clear directions to the missing pair that all they needed to do was walk to the beach and turn left...

Looking out for our missing companions

Note the holding of phone to ear.

"We're waving at you...there's three of us...we're waving...we can see you, can you really not see us? We're right in front of you..."

"We're still waving..."

Finally, they spot us.

Hugs aplenty.

(Who'd have thought they'd only been missing for half an hour?)

"How did you manage to lose us?"

Honestly, I've no idea how we'd function without mobiles...

24 Frames per second, or 5 films in 24 hours

2011-10-25T19:24:00.000+01:00

As briefly mentioned yesterday, I spent the weekend (well, Friday night and all day Saturday to be precise) at a film festival. My very first film festival in fact. L'Abri is a retreat centre that holds a special place in the hearts of several of my friends and their annual film festival provided an ideal opportunity for a group of us to experience its wonder. A weekend of good friends and good films - what's not to like?

I did wonder if I'd take well to the format of watching a film and discussing it immediately afterwards. It usually takes me a while to process things I've watched - often I'll sit in a post-film discussion (as in over drinks, not a formally facilitated one) quietly pondering and only coming up with my own arguments 24 hours later. Highly frustrating. However, the first two discussions were led by someone who understood the ways of the introverts (I suspect because he himself is a performing I) and encouraged discussion in pairs or quiet thought before the floor was opened to general debate.

Watching a film with a large group of people who are thinking carefully about they're watching was something of a novelty too - there was no need for Wittertainment's Code of Conduct in Greatham Village Hall (although I did take my boots off at one point...) - people didn't talk and generally sat enraptured by the screen. [Except for the dear old lady sat in front of me during the first film who exclaimed "For goodness sake!" at some violence done to the hero - I liked her tone and her engrossed-ness.]

Anyway, it would be pointless to talk about the festival without making some comment on the films themselves. Writing about them on the train yesterday proved that it was difficult to be succinct, but I'm going to try. The bottom line is that I think all of them are worth watching if you haven't seen them already...

Cool Hand Luke (1967)
A prison film starring Paul Newman, highlighting the life of the roadside chain-gang and the misery of a life behind bars. One the first things several people asked me when I mentioned that I was going to a film festival at a Christian retreat centre was how they managed to find enough Christian films to show. Because of course, we all know that Christians only watch Christian films and there can’t possibly be any point in discussing any other kind of film... Though I might jest about resurrection theology in Harry Potter, I’m actually not a fan of the trying hard to find Christian imagery school of theological film watching; thus, I got a little wary when, part way through the first film of the festival, a clear nod to the crucifixion appeared.

The discussion revolved around whether Luke was a Messainic figure - certainly there were lots of Biblical references and faith in God was a key component of the plot, but suggesting Luke was Jesus would be pushing it. Ultimately, there was no redemption through Luke - although his story is propagated as one of hope to a new generation of prisoners at the end of the film, he doesn't actually achieve what they're claiming he has. How can this be similar to a belief in a resurrected Christ? [Although, as my deeply cynical friend pointed out on the drive back to the Eco Barn, I believe a story that is seen as being just as untenable to many people.]

The film's currently a West End play and I'm not sure how well it translates to the stage, so watch the original if you can. (By the way, turns out that Paul Newman in 1967 = hot. Who knew?!)

Of Gods and Men (2010)
Easily the film which clinched my attendance at the festival - the opportunity to have an extended discussion of it was something not to be missed. I'd wanted to see it for ages, but as is usually the case with foreign language films, a bigger screen and a large audience was going to help my motivation. I'd heard nothing but praise for it and I wasn't disappointed. It's a beautifully moving film telling the real-life story of a monastery in Algeria threatened by Islamic terrorists in the mid-1990s, shot with a speed that seemed to reflect the steady pattern of the monastic lifestyle, and illustrated the stark contrast between beauty of the location and the ugliness of the violence taking place within it.

The main theme of the film is the relationship between the monks and the Islamic community they lived within. It is clear that they had a huge respect for the religion and it’s this understanding and sensitivity that helped save them from death in their first encounter with the terrorists on Christmas Eve. The tension and fear builds and builds as the monks debated whether to stay or go - I couldn't help but reflect that at a time when the Catholic church and those living in a monastic tradition are judged with much suspicion by society, the film really captures the sense of sacrifice and vocation that the monks believed themselves to have and their passion for the people they were called to live alongside.

The discussion was perhaps a little too facilitated and I took exception to our facilitator's opinion of the Last Supper scene (he hated it; I adored it) - never have I been so moved by Swan Lake (though it did bring back some unfortunate Black Swan memories). But it did lead me to wondering whether it's right to try and read so much into films based on true events? Why should we analyse the playing of Tchaikovsky if we know that that's what the monks chose to play? It's fact...

Restrepo (2010)
I would never have paid to see this film and I don't think would even have considered watching it had it not been part of the festival, but on one level I'm kind of glad I did. This is a documentary filmed over a US army's 15 month deployment to the Korangal Valley in Afghanistan - one of the conflict's most dangerous areas. I'm a pacifist and I'm not convinced at the validity of the conflict, but that doesn't alter the fact that it's happening and that it's good to understand as much as we can about it.

Ultimately, this film shows just what a chaotic and pointless war it is. Soon after the film was made, the troops were withdrawn from the region - so all the 'progress' made during it was essentially wasted. The style of filming, with handheld and helmet cameras, lends the film a disorientating and upsetting visual - but reflects well what the soldiers were experiencing. I wonder if I would have felt differently about the film had the troops been British, not American. I wonder if the British troops approach their dealings with the local population in a different way? (Would they give out Capri Suns to local elders during their weekly, utterly spurious, meetings?)

War films are a major genre and I’m not averse to them - Band of Brothers and Jarhead rank highly in excellent films depicting real events in which the acting is very moving. However, this was real and the emotions you see are being experienced by real people. In a scene where soldiers discover their sergeant’s been killed, you see the overwhelming grief that encompasses one soldier in particular - there is howling and screaming and it’s painful to watch. I’m not sure I’ll be able to watch an acted war film in quite the same way again.

The Social Network (2010)
I confess, I drank port instead of watching this on Saturday night - but in my defence I had already seen it twice. There's not much more that needs to be said about the Facebook film, but what intrigued me was the revelation during the discussion that the film's impact upon the viewer's opinion of Mark Zuckerberg was divided. When I first watched it, I was surprised at the level of sympathy I felt for Facebook's co-founder - and I knew that several friends had felt the same way. However, when asked, it turned out that although half the l'Abri audience felt the same as me; the other half felt less enamoured towards Zuckerberg.

Catfish (2010)
If ever you find yourself at the l'Abri festival, make sure you watch at least one of the late night films. Shown at the Manor House and accompanied by hot chocolate and popcorn, the smell as you enter the kitchen is practically orgasmic - in fact I'm seeking to recreate the sweet chocolate and salty popcorn ambience in the flat very soon. Yes, it takes dedication to watch a film that begins at 11pm having spent the previous 24 hours watching films, but it's worth it...

Undoubtedly, this was the film I enjoyed the most - Of Gods and Men was beautiful and moving, but this was light-hearted (albeit dealing with a truly bizarre and rather weird subject). Although billed as a documentary, there is controversy over whether it really is. My extensive online research has drawn no final conclusions, but I don't think it really matters.

If you've ever wondered if online communication could ever be genuine, this film will give you plenty of ammunition. The subject develops a relationship with someone he thinks is a 19 year old girl, but discovers a whole web of lies and deceptions that he's unwittingly been drawn into. Honestly, I sat open mouthed as the fiction was uncovered, it was massively weird and hugely concerning. I don't want to spoil it, so won't say much more, but seriously - be careful what you get hooked into online!

*******

Apologies, this is very, very long (but it was either this or a week of posts in which I'd have rambled unnecessarily about each of the films in turn). Ultimately, not only was it a good weekend, but it's inspired the possibility of a regular London gathering in which we can continue the discipline of watching and discussing, which can only be a good thing (especially as I've now worked out how to process films in a speedier fashion).

Eco Barns, Bean Bags, Films and an Organathon

2011-10-24T19:37:00.001+01:00

There really is nothing like a weekend out of London, with friends, with a purpose, to blow away the autumnal cobwebs. Last weekend, several of those who'd been to France (and an extra) travelled to the depths of Hampshire for the annual l'Abri film festival in Greatham. More will be written of the film watching anon, but the real highlight of the weekend was spending it with fun people in an, erm, interesting location...

For a start, it involved driving from the East End to the middle of nowhere. This is always fun, especially on the first Friday of half-term, on the M25, and with a time limit (i.e. the beginning of the first film). We needn't have worried though, because we had Radio 2 for company - joyous, especially between 5 and 7pm when it's Simon Mayo's All Request Friday. We felt assured of some cheesy tunes and some mindless banter - which we got, and more... It's been days, but I'm still ridiculously amused by the featuring of a request on behalf of three organists at Winchester Cathedral who were engaging in a 24 hour sponsored organ playing. Or, as the Cathedral billed it, an 'organathon'. Or, as Simon Mayo emphasised it, an 'organathon'. Tee hee.

Because we are a caring bunch of people (with little money), we chose to stay in an Eco Barn for the weekend. On paper, this sounded like a good(ish) thing - sustainable living; no unnecessary energy use; beautiful location... However, an unheated barn is not the best place for sleeping in late October (as possibly indicated by the fact that it closes for the season at the end of the week). It was beautiful, but it was flipping cold. So cold that I dared not remove any clothing on Saturday morning, so remained unshowered. So cold that people began talking about returning to London late that night instead of freezing.

See, it's beautiful, no?

Fortunately, we were destined to be saved and in quite a pleasing, warm and fuzzy (literally) way. One of the group had stayed in Chichester on Friday and brought her host with her to Saturday morning's film. On hearing of our predicament, she offered her flat (she was going away) and thus, unexpectedly, we awoke in Chichester, not the Eco Barn, on Sunday morning. This was definitely a good thing - I'd had 10 minutes in Chi last year and now finally, I got to explore it. [I did, however, end up sleeping on a giant bean-bag - which was both crunchy and slightly difficult to roll over on.]

There's shopping of a type similar to that found in Cheltenham, Bath and Windsor; lots of interesting, quirky shops; and a cathedral...

But the best thing about not being near Guildford, was that we were near the beach. Hello West Wittering!

Country pubs and Sunday lunches aren't to be sniffed at either. It's perhaps more indicative of a banging headache that had afflicted me all weekend (and the streaming cold it developed into) that I found the following exchange funny, but seriously, could you keep a straight face and ask the following?
"Can I have half a badger please?"
"Can I try a bit of the badger please?"
God bless British real ale...

Further Friday Fun of an a cappella nature

2011-10-21T00:33:00.002+01:00

Discovered on Tuesday, via a colleague's hysterical laughter, is a video gem that is doubly fun because it includes comedy outtakes that are longer than the original feature. My colleague was whooping, shrieking and nearly crying with laughter, so of course I had to ask what she was watching. Soon I was shrieking too and let me tell you, such noises echo when you emit them in the balcony of a Georgian church. It's good - really good - though you might not expect something entitled 'a capella dubstep' to be that funny:

Turns out Tuesday wasn't the first time my colleague had seen this beauty - it's so good that the funny just keeps giving!

If that's a little too crazy for you, or you want something calmer as you get your breath back, how about some lovely Peter Hollens? A friend of the Swingle Singers (and previously featured in Friday Fun), this is actually less calm (and certainly an assault on the eyes given the amount of neon clothing featured) than I may have initially suggested, but it's definitely fun...

Any friend of the Swingles is a friend of mine... [Incidentally, they have a gig in London next month - anyone want to join me?] In fact, another musical gem is their performance as backing vocalists for Labrinth & Tinie Tempah on Radio 1's Live Lounge yesterday:

[Ok, yes, I may still have a teeny-tiny Swingle crush...]

Earlier this week the Swingles also posted a special 'Welcome Back' video for troops returning from Afghanistan (including one of the Swingles' brothers) which I only just got round to watching as I wrote this post. It's rather lovely and also includes a brief glimpse of a couple of friends from church, which is always slightly exciting. (In fact, the presence of my wise friend's husband Juan would suggest it was recorded in their studio which I'd have visited a couple of weeks ago were it not for a small car versus motorbike incident that wise friend got us involved in...)

If none of that musical fun floats your boat, how about a complete tangent and some photos of dogs in Star Wars costumes? It made me giggle heartily, and long to own a dog that agrees to dressing up. Megan the Labrador has sadly always considered herself above such things - she removes the bow I place on her every Christmas with enormous haste. Spoilsport.

For Christmas I would like...

2011-10-20T21:24:00.001+01:00

...some hot librarians please.

You know how much I adore books? You know how my Oyster card wallet contains a veritable top trumps of library cards? [I see your 1 year Bodleian card and raise you a 3 year British Library ticket...] You know how much I long for an intellectual, bookish, beardy yet hot man? You know how much I love utterly inappropriate calendars? [Perhaps not, but wait & check my archives.]

Christmas came early with the discovery of Men of the Stacks - a 2012 hot librarian's calendar.
Be. Still. My. Beating. Heart.

Actually, don't get your hopes up, they're not all that promising. Personally, I'd buy the calendar and leave it on Mr January for the rest of the year:

At my office farewell in the summer, the Strategic Leader designated to give a speech decided to highlight the appropriate-yet-inappropriate calendars that C and I had had for two years running (it's lucky that I've known him longer than I've worked with him, else I could have felt very convicted by the speech). Much amusement was derived from the Calendario Romano, aka 'the hot priests calendar' - I'm just sorry we never acquired the Mormon version (see above link too)... You can only buy the hot priests in Rome and my mother was mortified when requested to acquire the 2010 version on a trip there - I'm sensing that she wouldn't be up for purchasing the librarian version for me.

Anyway, it's for charity - obviously - so much good should come out of it, plus the fact that it shows librarians not to be the old lady with cats stereotype that's been perpetuated for decades.

The power of a ranting be-quiffed man

2011-10-19T15:40:00.000+01:00

Last month marked my one-year anniversary of becoming a fan of Wittertainment - Radio 5 Live's flagship film review programme, hosted by Simon Mayo and Mark Kermode (or, 'the good doctors'). I'm eternally grateful to the person who, one evening in September, sent me the link to Kermode's review of Eat, Pray Love, suspecting that I'd be won over by his grammatical pedantry. Won over I was, and the weekly podcast is now something I savour.

The beauty of Wittertainmet is that it creates its own community, akin to a secret society whose members recognise each other not by a secret handshake, but by sly comments relating to 3D films; the addition of words to film titles (the aforementioned Eat, Pray, Love becomes Eat, Pray, Love, Vomit); the Code of Conduct; or unexplained references to that week's podcast (I once had a text from one such friend which read - apropos of nothing - "while we were sleeping, someone changed the spelling of dilemma..."). Just last weekend a couple of fellow students were discussing at which age their sons could be introduced to 3D films - one was surprised that another's 3 year old had coped with the glasses, my question was "how did he cope with the 40% light reduction?" and was greeted with a "ahhh, a Kermode fan" from the other father.

You can listen to Kermodian rants on the radio, via podcast and his video blog - and now there's a whole book of them. (Well, in fact there are two. The first is his autobiography It's Only A Movie...) This is possibly the first ever book I've pre-ordered - though this was mainly because it was released a week after I moved house and I was buying it as gifts for two of the people who helped me move, two people who happen to be the person who introduced me to Wittertainment and the person who took me to their Christmas special. There was obviously an ulterior motive to bestowing the book upon friends, and helpfully one of them finished it in record time and passed it on to me - where it's taken me four weeks to finish it (thanks, return to academia) and another week to get around to writing this post.

The Good, the Bad and the Multiplex (hereafter referred to as TGTBATM) doesn't require a film studies degree or a subscription to the Wittertainment podcast in order to be understood or enjoyed. I can quite honestly say that I have never smiled so much while reading a book before. In fact, it led to a rather embarrassing scenario on a tube where an eligible bachelor (no pets) on my course was sat across from me as I was reading it, and probably wondering why on earth I was choking back giggles and grinning like a maniac. It's not just me either, it seems to have the same affect upon others - I took it with me on our staff retreat last month and the vicar requisitioned it one evening, sitting on the sofa for over an hour, utterly oblivious to everything around him and chuckling, no, shrieking with laughter at regular intervals. [The good Doctor K also got referenced in a sermon recently - the vicar reckons that should Dr K retire, he could replace him. Personally, I think he's not quite the ranting type, which is a good thing as ranting vicars can be a bit of a nightmare.]

It's the rants that make Kermode the excellent reviewer that he is. It's not their length, their passion and the sheer brilliance of the language used within them, but the fact that (most of the time) they're based upon well grounded facts. Surely he's well-justified in ranting (continuously) about the scourge of 3D - there are the ridiculous glasses (that discriminate against those of us with our own glasses), the reduced light, and the fact that retro-fitting isn't even 'real' 3D to name just a few. The book's introduction is entitled 'Would the last projectionist please turn off the lights...' and is a moving account of how projectionists are being done away with across the country (by which I mean fired because cinemas don't 'need' them; not that a projectionist serial killer is on the loose). There's brilliant detail in the history; moving personal stories; plus a good dose of humour and brilliant language.

Kermode writes as he speaks. In fact, whole chunks of the book will be familiar to Wittertainment fans - I'm sure most of us can recite much of his rants on SATC 2 and Transformers 3 - but it's not an issue and is in fact a reflection of how well he speaks. Mid-way through their reading of the book, my friend sent me an email simply entitled 'quote':
"Opinions are like arseholes: everyone's got one, and everyone thinks theirs is the only one that doesn't stink."

Beautiful.

The etiquette of tweeting and following

2011-10-18T08:11:00.003+01:00

Rather frustratingly, the weekend's fun and frolics in a former convent meant that I had to miss an event that dominated my Twitter timeline for most of Friday night and all day Saturday (once the rugby was over) - the Christian New Media Awards and Conference (#cnmac11). All day (while not concentrating extremely hard during 5 hours of Church History lectures) I saw tweets between friends old and new; ex-colleagues; long-standing Twitter buddies yet to have been met in the flesh and total strangers. It was like watching a party I hadn't been invited to through a closed window...

The good thing about the tweeting was that it enabled me to hear when the Methodists - represented by the fabulous Jo in even more fabulous glittery red shoes [Jo, I now have some nail varnish that would match perfectly!] - won an award for Tell, Show, Be. It also meant that I could witness some of the post-conference discussion and some of the blogposts that are being generated by it.

By all accounts, the Digital Nun was rather popular. Her post, the 10 rules for online engagement, is a summary of some of what she said, and I have to say it makes a lot of sense. In brief, there are 10 key words (click through for the full explanation, it's worth it):
1. Pray
2. Listen
3. Respect
4. Encourage
5. Spend time
6. Share
7. Be Welcoming
8. Be Grateful
9. Be Yourself
10. Love

One that might need expanding upon is one I feel very strongly about - #6: 'Share: not only what you are doing, but also what others are doing. This particularly applies to Twitter — don’t use it just for self-advertisement!'. I'm really not a fan of people who re-tweet compliments sent to them, unless they're amusing or it's for something really special. Occasional sharing of such things is fine; too much and it looks big-headed. Also, one of Twitter's qualities is that it's an ideal platform for sharing things with lots of people that they might not know about, but might be interested it. It's how I manage to distract myself for far too vast a chunk of time!

Another outcome of the conference was a brief tweet chat with Becca who had been there on Saturday. She had tweeted: "does limiting who u follow on twitter create exclusive groups that become counter productive? Is fb not better 4 developing relationships?" [sic]
To which I replied: "Think I've developed much better relationships on Twitter - am much more restrictive about fb connections. 'Real' friends only!"
[As a sidenote, Becca is a 'real' friend, though in a slightly bizarre way - I know her parents, siblings and husband better, but I feel like we've bonded over the years thanks to our virtual contact.]

It needed further dissection, so more tweets followed and I concluded that it was far too complicated a question to adequately discuss on Twitter, so felt a blogpost was brewing. Essentially, I had four points:

1. I don't mind casual acquaintances (or total strangers) following me on Twitter - but I wouldn't accept their friend request on Facebook. Twitter is public and I know that, so I tweet accordingly (though it may not look like that sometimes!). Which connects with...
2. I choose what I put on Twitter. Interestingly, this includes links to every post I write on here - which is not something I do on Facebook. On Facebook I tend to protect my world more.
3. Facebook is for actual people in my life - I choose who I want to be there.
4. Twitter's helped me get to know some strangers or friends a lot better, especially colleagues and co-students. It's also created groups of people that I can connect with about specific things, but don't feel at all cliquey.

It's this last point that's the most important (or interesting - as far as I'm concerned). Twitter is far less obtrusive, I don't often hesitate about following someone in the way I might hesitate about sending a Facebook request. Take today for example: I was lunching with fellow vicars-to-be at college and we chatted about Twitter, resulting in the sharing of names - we're now all following each other. We haven't had a similar chat about Facebook, but that relationship will in all probability come later - it's a different level of intimacy.

In the run up to starting my new job, several of my new colleagues started following me and I reciprocated - it meant that they knew an awful lot more about me (perhaps too much?!) by the time I started work. In turn, I knew a little bit more about them and felt very supported during my summer of transitions. It's also helped to maintain and grow relationships that began in human interaction - like a few of the people I holidayed with, who I can now keep up with via Twitter. Generally, I feel that Twitter relationships are better quality than Facebook ones. There's a quality of communication and feedback (particularly on blogging) that I really appreciate and that I find very encouraging.

Something else Becca mentioned was a stat relating to followers and reciprocal following. ~~My understanding (though I may be wrong) is that we are generally only followed by 10% of those that follow us [please correct me if I'm wrong!].~~ It seems I had got it a bit wrong - in a comment below, Becca says it's more to do with our capability to have meaningful relationships with 10% of those who follow us.

Interesting, but I'm not sure that I care. Sure, I'd be annoyed if an actual friend didn't reciprocate, but I follow who I want to follow because I want to hear what they say. Who am I to impose my own thoughts upon other people who might not want to hear me? Watching a fellow Tweeter complain recently about people they followed who hadn't followed them back irked me considerably - it is your prerogative who you follow and people shouldn't get offended by it.

My general rule of thumb when unknowns follow me is that I'll check out their profile and establish if they seem to tweet stuff I find interesting - if so, I'll follow them back straight away; sometimes I'll wait a while and check again when I'm sorting through my followers for bots; other times I'll follow back after a couple of @ mentions that get me involved in an interesting conversation; sometimes I won't follow at all - and I don't feel guilty about it. Life is too short for following too many people. My feed becomes cluttered (and yes, I know I could move to lists via Tweet Deck, but I prefer everyone in one) and it gets unusable - especially if I'm out and about and can only check in infrequently on my phone.

So, those are my thoughts. Maybe next year I'll get to #cnmac12 and can share them in person (though, knowing my luck, it'll clash with another residential). In the mean time, I suggest you reflect upon Digital Nun's thoughts and ponder upon whether you ought to make some changes in the way in which you engage online.

When theology meets boarding school

2011-10-17T20:02:00.002+01:00

Anyone who's spent any length of time as a Christian in Britain - especially if you've worked for a church - is likely to have spent a certain amount of time at Christian conference centres. There are many of them, of varying qualities, but the more time you spend at them, the more adept you get at dealing with their eccentricities - of which there are also many.

Such places are either as hot as an old folks' home, or as cold as a polar bear's bedroom. There is never a happy medium. They frequently have interesting bathroom arrangements - particularly challenging when they involve scampering down cold corridors clad in nightwear hoping not to bump into the virtual strangers with whom you're sharing the facilities. Sometimes their bedrooms are time warps - taking you back to a time when mains electricity wasn't frequently available. On one memorable occasion, my room had no plug sockets and neither did the rest of the corridor - after much logical thought I concluded that the carpet in the corridor must need vacuuming, thus requiring power, and hunted high and low for a socket. I was successful and located them above every other bedroom door. [Hair had to be tried in next door's room while standing in the doorway...]

As part of my training, I get to spend six weekends a year in such establishments (and a week in a French monastery, but more of that anon). This past weekend was residential #1 - at a former Catholic convent in the middle of nowhere (yet remarkably close to the M25) - and a venue I'd not yet experienced. In some ways, I'm rather sad that it's closing down at Christmas and that we'll only get one more trip there. It's rather lovely, with an impressive chapel (lit with beautiful chandeliers rather conspicuously involving energy saving lightbulbs); beautiful quadrangle garden; excellent (compared with other places) food and plenty of eccentricities...

It was excessively hot almost everywhere, except places where you have to spend prolonged periods of time (like the chapel and lecture room). Mentions of the chapel on the schedule were met with with scurrying trips to bedrooms to pick up extra layers, and I rued the absence of my arm-warmers on several occasions.

All my lectures took place in the Great Hall, cue much Hogwarts comparison - though sadly the only wearing of robes took place during Sunday's eucharist. My first glimpse of my cell, sorry, bedroom's leaded window brought back memories of The Worst Witch, while the arrangement of North, South, East and West corridors was rather Mallory Towers-esque. [I may have resorted to using the compass in my phone in order to re-find my bedroom on Friday night.] All in all, it was rather like being at boarding school.

Sunset from my cell

You'd expect an ex-convent to have plenty of religious art and icons, but there were also odd extras in certain rooms. In fact, it was because of an odd extra that the room my fellowship group met in was chosen. (For 'fellowship group' read: 'forced social time with people who are not in your year or not at your centre', there was alcohol, it wasn't so bad.) In the corner was a bizarre little feature - a tiny hand sticking out of the wall that seemed to do nothing. I may have been in a group of virtual strangers (actually, I wasn't - two of my group are people I already know well), but that didn't stop me from doing the inevitable. Obviously, I had to find out what its purpose was...

I touched it - nothing happened. Then I tried turning it, and it moved! I screamed. I think my head had become so full of fictional boarding school excitement that I half expected it to reveal a secret passage. Sadly absolutely nothing happened, other than it moving to this position:

Disappointing. If anyone could offer an explanation as to what this interior design feature is for, I'd be most grateful.

Forget TfL - use feet!

2011-10-13T07:40:00.001+01:00

Taking away my 45 minute daily commute, my monthly travelcard and my extortionate gym membership; replacing it with a 15 minute commute two or three days a week, a 45 minute commute one day a week, two or three days a week of flexibility, a pre-pay Oyster card and a desperate need for exercise has resulted in one thing lately: an awful lot of walking.

I'm a big fan of walking in London - after all, I did spend two days walking 42 miles of the Thames Path back in May. It's just that often I've not had the time to do much of it. Training for the Thames Path challenge resulted in a few walks to work, but that also required some very early starts to make it in on time. Now, time is something I have a bit more of, but (oddly frustratingly) many of the places I need to go are just a short walk away.

When I discovered I'd be moving to 'proper' central London, many people said that I'd be able to walk everywhere. I scoffed at this, thinking it a massive generalisation. Yes, trips to Marylebone, Oxford Street, Waterloo and Angel would be massively doable, but what about college in South Kensington - surely that would be a bit of a trek? I presumed the same would also be true of my friends in the East End.

However, the combination of no gym membership [I've been blessed with a bargain Groupon for 10 day passes, but I'm trying to use them wisely] and Google maps on my iPhone has spurred me into action. Awakening a tad hangover on Friday with nothing planned but a trip to Bow to visit a friend's new place, I typed the postcode into Google and discovered it was exactly 5 miles away, and, according to the computer, just 1 hour 40 minutes away. Perfect exercise on a beautiful day! It was a good walk - I got a couple of chores done; timed the precise journey time to favourite karaoke bar; stitched together Shoreditch and Bethnal Green; and discovered that the Roman Road is a flipping long road. The walk was so good that a few hours later I walked home again, varying my route, just to keep things interesting.

Using the same app tactic, on Monday I pondered walking home from college - again it hit the 5 mile mark and I figured this would be an excellent antidote to a day of intense concentration. I was enticed by the fact that a considerable chunk of it involved Hyde Park - an excellent place to walk on a crisp autumnal day. It was immensely pleasant - I listened to Wittertainment, caught up with a friend (that multi-tasking thing again) and managed to route my stroll through Selfridges Food Hall where I purchased special offer Cholla bread. Good times, and definitely something to be done again. (Though the purchasing of items in Selfridges rather negates the saving of money in not taking the tube.)

Apologies for the wonky Albert Memorial...

Yesterday, I found myself in Wapping, so checked my phone on the off-chance that a walk was possible. It told me I could be home in 75 minutes - only thirty more than if I took the tube or a bus during rush hour. I had the time, so got going. It turned into a highly entertaining adventure given as it passes through The City, where many streets have amusing names...

Stop that giggling right now!

Plus, you get very close to some iconic London landmarks:

For the uninitiated, that's the Tower of London (and the Shard) and a glimpse of St Paul's.

In the last five days I've walked 19 miles on this mission - I don't think that's bad going at all. It's rather fortunate that my Dad's recently sent me CDs via which I can learn Greek grammar by song, soon I'll be able to walk and become familiar with participles while singing Old MacDonald... That, my friends, is perfect multi-tasking!

Noted

2011-10-12T09:57:00.000+01:00

I love Wednesdays - it's the day when my week starts to calm down and the studying overtakes the office/church working. (It also follows a 12 hour working Tuesday, which is all kinds of exhausting.) To ease myself into the day, I spent 11 minutes this morning watching an utterly delightful video. I was tempted to add it to Friday's list, but actually, it's not really 'fun' in the Friday sense of the word.

Have you ever wondered exactly what went into printing sheet music before the invention of computers? I can't say I have, but after watching this film, I'm utterly in awe. Basically, (and many of you probably know this) it involved engraving the notation onto metal sheets, from which prints could be made. As anyone who has studied musical theory can tell you, notation is a pain in the backside to get correct - so imagine engraving metal?

Much of this video is in German, but it has subtitles and is hypnotising. My favourite moment is when the engraver is asked what happens if he makes a mistake and he replies "but I don't make mistakes" - so they ask him to demonstrate what he would do if someone else made a mistake. [Surprisingly, it doesn't involve throwing the whole metal sheet away and starting again - lucky, that.]

For me, the most ridiculous discovery was that musical directions had to be stamped letter by letter. When you think of how many 'allegro', 'allegrando' and 'tuttis' there might be in even a short piece, that's got to be a pain.

So, Sibelius fans, don't take what you've got for granted. Be thankful for Herr Henle Verlag and others like him for turning notation into the artform that computers had to emulate. (And fans of handwritten notation - just be grateful you're writing on paper, not metal.)

For lovers of beverages...

2011-10-11T11:43:00.002+01:00

Returning to studenthood has begun a quest for perfect studying spots. I'm a great believer in getting out of the house to work (rather like those 'job' things other people have) and avoiding quiet libraries unless I need the books held within them.

During our bizarre heatwave, the British Library courtyard became a favourite place, but with the advent of autumn proper, that will no longer be tenable. Starbucks are ok, as are Neros, but they often lack atmosphere and life...

London is awash with independent coffee houses and in my new neighbourhood I'm discovering more and more of them. But last week's newest discovery is a little further afield. Working on my multi-tasking ethos, I did a few chores on Oxford Street, while toting Greek notes and theology articles in my bag so I could have an impromptu study session when my feet were weary.

One of my more local 'discoveries' (I knew it existed, I just had to have a reason to go there) was the Department of Coffee and Social Affairs, on Leather Lane in Holborn. A couple of weeks ago, its owners opened Speakeasy - an expresso bar off Carnaby Street. Finding myself weary and in the vicinity on Wednesday, I thought I'd pay a visit.

As you may know, I'm not a coffee fan, so I can't comment upon its brews, beans and filters. However, I can tell you that these guys love their coffee and do everything in their power to do it well - and to teach you along the way. I'm a tea drinker and they do that well, so I'm happy. Teapot, tea leaves that you place in the pot & you takeout when it's brewed sufficiently - that's excellent tea etiquette.

In some ways I preferred Speakeasy to DCSA - it seemed lighter and more open. Plus, downstairs in the filter room are two shelves of books - books of a variety that I adore. Penguin Great Ideas series - check. Virago 'pretty books' - check. Persephone books - check. Orwell - check. Plenty about New Zealand - check. Actually, the quality of their book browsing section is down to the fact that my good, bibliophile friend Katie was responsible for choosing them and she did a great job. The staff are friendly and enthusiastic and the tables are an excellent height for studying. One could say it was an oasis of calm in the manic West End.

At the end of the day, it's just nice to be somewhere without banging and shouting; where staff aren't simply trying to get you to buy a tasteless muffin; and where the aim is to ensure that you get the best beverage and drinking experience possible.

A pot of Earl Grey is perfect accompaniment to the task of creating Greek vocab flashcards.

Postscript:

I wrote this post on and off yesterday, intending to finish it off last night - but I got distracted. Kind of lucky (and really only vaguely 'kind of') as this morning I experienced another joyous beverage experience during a pre-work coffee. [Yes, I managed a social engagement BEFORE work - this is all kind of impressive and not at all to do with the presence of workmen in my flat at 8.15am...]

The Espresso Room is just across the road from Great Ormond Street hospital and is exactly what it says it is - a room that serves espresso (and other coffee based drinks, plus tea and rather yummy looking pastries). It's tiny but has wooden stools and benches out on the pavement that are perfect for perching on and watching the world go by. Its proximity to the hospital is deliberate, and the owner hopes to open similar establishments near other London hospitals, which, given what I've heard about hospital cafeterias is probably an excellent plan.

On reflection, I should have had the teapot in the foreground.

It was eminently functional, with an in-built strainer. Delightful.

Friday Fun with confident musical dinosaurs

2011-10-07T09:17:00.000+01:00

I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I'm quite a fan of musicals and singing in general. Obviously, there are hours and hours (in fact months) that can be whiled away in musical pursuits, but some are more fun than others. My first piece of Friday Fun for this week is an old skool game - it involves no computers or phones, just honest-to-goodness musical skill and a similarly skilled friend.

The 'sing alternate words' game was taught to me by Morv (my companion in deeds of spectacular musical geekiness) and I have no idea where she found it. It's very simple - one person sings the first word of a song [if you're really on the ball, the other half of the pair will have to guess the song from its first word and notes] and the second person sings the next word - so on and so forth until you tire of the ridiculousness (or you forget the words). You can play with more than two people, but it gets very tricky. Personal favourites (unsurprisingly) for playing this game with include For Good and Defying Gravity from Wicked - though the latter can get quite confusing given that many of its lines are similar, yet subtly different, making it very easy to get lost.

Somehow, I ended up sharing this game with a colleague at work. She caught on very quickly and we were soon singing I Have Confidence with much mirth. Afterwards, she shared a video with me which had me in awe - if you're a lover of The Sound of Music (which of course is where the aforementioned song comes from, if you didn't know that, shame on you!) this will amaze and inspire you:

Yes, that is the Captain's house; and yes, she's running (and singing) up the same road that Maria runs up while singing that particular song. I particular love the rucksack standing in for a guitar case and Hannah (my colleague) running backwards, trying simultaneously to film and not laugh. Impressive. Unfortunately, the girls were trespassing (and luckily got away with it) which means it may be difficult for others to emulate. But, on the off chance that it's possible, who's up for a trip to Salzburg?

In case you're not at all interested in musicals set in the Anschluss, how about some dinosaurs? In fact, how about some animated, singing dinosaurs on the banks of the River Thames? I think you might agree that this video is genius in all kinds of ways:

One final piece of fun. You might be aware that the Rugby World Cup's currently being held in God's Own Country. If you're really up with your rugby, you may also be aware that France (possibly Europe's best team at the start of the tournament) were beaten last Saturday by the 'Ikale Tahi - the Tongan team - 19-14. I was very proud (and gutted that it was on while I was asleep). Sadly, France qualified for the quarter-finals over Tonga on points scored (but will be beaten by England this weekend), but I was very proud of my national team. In their honour I share a flash-mob haka - and before you point out that a haka is a Maori war dance, let me point out that all Polynesian tribes have their own version of this, including the Tongans. How scary would it be to suddenly find yourself in the midst of this?!

The beautiful things about Jobs

2011-10-06T16:18:00.000+01:00

This post has been brewing for a couple of weeks, in fact, I nearly wrote it last night. However, at just before 1am this morning, it suddenly became incredibly apt that I hadn't written it yet. A post in praise of my brand new shiny toy with a piece of fruit on the front of it deserves publication on the day that Britain woke up to hear that Steve Jobs had died.

There's no question that Jobs' creations have changed computing, phones, film and music beyond recognition. (I think to say that he changed the world is possibly a bit of an exaggeration given how much of the world's population need simpler things to enhance their lives - like food or healthcare.) Being something of a technophobe until recent years, Apple had very little impact upon my life until three and a half years ago. In fact, I went through a phase of deliberately avoiding owning an iPod because of its ubiquity - that ended when a gift enabled the purchase of a beautiful silver music playing device. That year, I needed a new laptop and I toyed with going to the Mac-side, but chickened out and played safe.

Buying an iPhone was always going to happen and sure enough, nearly a year ago (after at least three prophetic iPhone dreams) I succumbed. It may sound ridiculous, but that's changed my life - I don't get lost nearly as often as I used to; I can instantly prove myself right (or, occasionally, wrong); and, most importantly, it helps me fall asleep (programmes on iPlayer) or restores my sanity when I have insomnia. Ironically, it was in this last state that I heard the news about Apple's co-founder - a quick look at Twitter on my iPhone in between attempts to sleep just before 1am showed a tweet from Gizmodo. Within seconds Twitter was ablaze with tributes - including one which noted:
"It's crazy to think about how many people are sharing the news of Steve Jobs' death using devices he invented."

There will be countless tributes printed to Jobs' undoubted genius, his passion for creating products that were intuitive and were what the public wanted - before they even knew they wanted them. My own personal tribute is the fact that I'm writing this post on a computer that's the most expensive piece of technology I've ever bought, but that I chose to spend more on because I had confidence in it as a brand and a product. (Plus, obviously, I thought it would make me look cooler at college. I'm not sure yet if it does, it seems my typing skills are impressing more people...)

A friend was visiting when the package arrived - I told her she'd be impressed with the packaging.

She was.

What can I say? It's shiny, it's beautiful, it's intuitive. By the time I next used a PC 10 days later my brain had switched to Mac-mode and I became frustrated at its inability to be smooth and efficient. (Not making that mistake again, darling Macbook now comes with me on office days.) I'm still getting the hang of it, but fortunately, I seem to be living with a Norwegian techy genius and have plenty of friends who have already crossed over to the 'dark side'. (There was a Twitter debate last week as to whether it was dark or light, we concluded dark, I think...) I need to make a decision about Office for Mac versus iWork, but I'm currently undecided - Pages is beautiful and I love it, but I can't help thinking that essays might be easier in Word (thoughts - anyone?).

Steve Jobs, thank-you. We have much to be grateful to you for (not least the fact that with an iPhone, one need never be bored again) and it's terribly sad to think of what might have been, had your life not been cut short.

Credit

The strange things that happen in London parks

2011-10-04T23:06:00.000+01:00

Us urbanites have to get our grass and tree fixes where we can. For most Londoners bereft of gardens, this means public parks (unless you're super swanky and live on a Notting Hill-esque enclosed square), of which there are many. Space amongst the green is at a premium whenever the sun comes out and last week's hugely bizarre autumnal heatwave brought the sun worshippers out in droves.

After church on Sunday I headed to Brunswick Square to make the most of the sun and to simultaneously catch up with the parentals (it's that all important multi-tasking again). As I've mentioned, my mother always asks where I am/where I'm going at the start of the conversation and Sunday was no exception - except that she shouted me down as I began with "I'm sat on the grass in Brunswick Square with sandals on and no sleeves...". It seems that those across the Irish Sea have not taken well to all the talk of British heatwaves when they're sweltering in temperatures of 14C as opposed to London's 29C...

As we chatted, my eyes were drawn to two film cameras that had moved into view, seemingly about to film something happening beneath a large tree. I looked around trying to work out what was going on and spied a group of fairly non-descript people gathering with a sense of purpose. I hoped against hope that I was about to witness an awesome flash-mob in the league of the Welcome Home T-Mobile ad or the fantastic Improv Everywhere, so I watched eagerly and gave my mother regular updates as to what was occurring.

The group assembled under the tree and a gong rang out...

So far, not terribly exciting. Then the gong rang again:

And again:

Then someone came round with a flyer as an explanation. Turns out it was modern dance, only 'dance' in a 'change your position once every 90 seconds' context as opposed to 'interpret music in a visual way' context. As far as I could gather, the troupe were basically making their way from 'very big tree' to 'very small seed' via gongs...

From a distance it looked as though this guy was doing a plank.

I'm rather disappointed that on closer inspection, his arm's on the ground!

The fantastic news is that this isn't a one-off! Should you like to witness this yourself, you can - this weekend in fact - they'll be in Brunswick Square again, as well as Queen Square, Woburn Square and Gordon Square. Entitled 'Square Dances' (do you see what they did there?!), "audiences will be able to encounter recurring moments of fleetingly beautiful dance performed by 200 Londoners of all ages...".

I mock, but seriously, this is what I love London for. Its quirky, public, free to watch events that appear as if from nowhere. Spend more time in parks - you never know what might happen...

The joys of multi-tasking

2011-10-03T23:04:00.000+01:00

Now that I'm living a new life with all sorts of new jobs and time pressures, I'm more and more drawn to the benefits of multi-tasking. As a woman, I've been blessed with this particular skill and always put it to use in various ways - learning choir parts while baking would be a particular favourite, as would utilising long(ish) walks for phone calls to family members (my mother's first question on answering the phone is now "where are you going?").

However, I've learnt that there are certain things that one cannot do at the same time as something else...

On a very basic level, I find it very tricky to do complicated choreography (clapping rhythms and anything more than basic swaying from side to side) while also singing - I blame a familial disposition to mild dyspraxia for that one.
You can't read and walk. This ought to be obvious and I haven't been guilty of attempting to do it for ages, but other London commuters don't seem to have realised it yet. You cannot expect to go at the required commuter pace in a tube station if your nose is stuck in a book. If I see you doing this, I will glare and tut loudly.
As someone pointed out at prayer training this evening, you also shouldn't pray with your eyes closed while walking along the road - kind of obvious that one, but sometimes you can't help how the spirit moves you...
I can't read and simultaneously listen to a podcast/spoken radio. My mind will only take in one set of words at once. I often forget this on the tube and waste valuable minutes of The News Quiz or Wittertainment because I've picked up a Metro and idly begun reading its drivel. It was particularly idiotic of me to try reading Mark Kermode's The Good, the Bad and the Multiplex on the tube while listening to that week's Wittertainment - I lost out on two high quality things.
You should never, ever, try and multi-task if it involves a heated hair styling implement. Last Friday I tried to eat lunch, check email and curl my hair simultaneously. None of the three things went well and had I simply done my hair first I might actually have finished it, instead of having to leave the house with it half done - in fact, with all three things half done and a half-clean bathroom that I'd begun cleaning while my lunch was cooking. It was an epic fail of multi-tasking.

Having said that, there have been some excellent successes:

It is possible to be in charge of PowerPoint and a sound desk while working through a chapter of New Testament Greek. Simply lay your exercise book over your muted channels and voila! Ok, so I may have accidentally turned the speaker down once, but I don't think anyone noticed. [However, I have discovered that it's impossible to start playing a video clip, get the PC levels up and turn the house lights off at exactly the same time - but usually the job isn't being done single-handedly.]
Writing blogposts on the bus courtesy of the new, free and rather fabulous Blogger iPhone app. Finally, a decent blogger app! My commute's gone from 45mins twice a day to virtually nothing (and mostly walking) but the odd bus journey can be utilised well - though I did discover last week that highlighting theology articles can be tricky on a moving vehicle...
Catching rays during our marvellous autumn summer while also learning Greek [you may notice a recurring theme here] - the British Library's courtyard is a total sun trap. Glorious.
Epilating while watching films. It's the perfect pleasure/pain combo, plus the noise of the movie helps drown out the (potentially dodgy sounding and high volume) noise of the epilator.

If anyone has any other top multi-tasking tips, they'd be gratefully received. At the moment, what I think I could do with is some form of gadget that would dry my hair for me while I dressed/applied make-up - that would save me a whole heap of time every other morning!

Friday Fun can be educational too

2011-09-30T09:18:00.000+01:00

Three things for today...

1. Something to make you laugh (and hopefully teach you something):

I have it on good understanding that if you're currently suffering from beginning of academic year sniffles (or freshers' flu), watching this will make you feel heaps better. In the mean time, I'll be on the look out for a vicar with a spinning head...

2. Something educational, crafty and really rather fabulous. Ever wanted to learn how to knit a pigeon?

(In my head there's a brilliant link between those two videos, but no one else would understand it, so I'll keep quiet.)

3. Something geeky, mathematical and utterly hilarious:

Ahhh, Mr Cosby - a wise, wise, man. [I will admit that my tired, not very mathematical brain took about 30 seconds to work out this joke when shown it last night.]

I know I said I had three things for you, but in the course of writing this post I've found a bonus item. Courtesy of a face to face connection and a Twitter introduction, I've discovered a rather lovely blog about New York's public transport. Public Transit Adventures is a combination of photography and the all important random public transport encounters - an excellent place to while away a tedious Friday morning.

History on a tea towel

2011-09-27T21:48:00.000+01:00

A photo challenge for you - can you identify me (and my sister, for those that know her) on the tea towel below:

In case you're wondering, that's a tea towel with a self-portrait of every member of my primary school in the 1990-91 academic year. It's one of those things primary schools produce at Christmas which are then bestowed upon beloved relatives as gifts - relatives who probably smile sweetly and then put it away in a drawer.

Unless, it seems, you are my grandparents. I received this photo this morning from my mother who (presumably) had just been washing up in my grandparents' kitchen. I reckon it's in pretty good condition for a twenty year old towel...

Oh, and in case you can't find me, I'm on the fourth row from the bottom, second from right. (For Mim fans, she's five rows down from the title, fifth in from right and has a very big head.) I'm rather impressed with the level of detail a 9 year old me includes - down to the crest on my sweatshirt and my bunches. The only downside (and I suspect this irked me at the time) is that we had to use black pen to draw our pictures, thus meaning that my hair was depicted a lot darker than it naturally is.

Developing a Tenko mentality

2011-09-26T18:12:00.000+01:00

Regular readers will know that I have (possibly unhealthy) tendency to fall into black holes in which I'm lost for days and days at a time - perhaps it's an indication of an obsessive personality...

It often occurs with TV series, in which hour upon hour is invested in something gripping - the dawn of the DVD boxset is particularly responsible for this. It's the knowledge that there's always one more episode, one more series. I suspect the main reason I haven't yet begun The West Wing is that with seven seasons to consume, I could easily lose several weeks of my life. [Though, if anyone has season 1 to hand, I would love to borrow it - just don't let me near it if an essay deadline's looming.]

This past weekend was lost in a blur of prison huts, rice rations, medical crises and Japanese soldiers. Somehow (honestly, I can't remember what I'd typed into YouTube) on Friday evening I discovered that entire episodes of classic 1980s series Tenko were now online. The ridiculous thing is that this isn't the first time I've locked myself in my room with a load of internees - around 6 years ago I borrowed my Mum's DVDs and watched the whole thing over a few weeks, trying to ration episodes in between the arrival of boxsets from across the Irish Sea in the same way that the prisoners rationed their vegetables.

Like Jewel in the Crown, Tenko is brilliant period drama. It lacks the stunning vistas of JiTC, as (apart from the first couple of episodes set in Singapore) it was filmed in Dorset. [This raises two questions: 1. How did they get so many days of sunshine in which to film? 2. How was it warm enough for the actors to look so hot in so little clothing?] You really wouldn't know it was Dorset though, honest. It's brilliantly acted, with a virtual who's who of 1980s actresses (personally, I love that one of the best characters couldn't appear in the third series because she was already committed to Bergerac) - thank goodness for Wikipedia helping me make connections!

When you think about it, it's incredible that such a riveting drama could be created in a context where the characters never leave the confines of a small camp. The story begins before the Japanese invasion of Singapore in 1941, with three episodes setting the scene and introducing the characters - it's a little like the start of an episode of Casualty where you begin to get a feeling of foreboding as you see a dangerous situation emerge. Series one ends with the women moving to a new camp; series two is set entirely in a camp run by a despotic female interpreter; and series three chronicles their transition back into society after the war. I think one of the reasons why it's so addictive is that you truly buy into the characters and want to know if they survive and what happens to them in the end. God bless its producers by filming a reunion special set five years after the war so that we're able to achieve a level of closure!

Tenko holds a special place in the hearts of the women of our family and I've no idea why. My sister and I were too young to watch it originally, but I think Mum talked about it a lot - certainly it was something we looked out for on DVD for her for quite a while. For a while it was shown at lunchtimes on the History channel and my sister would occasionally taunt me with texts during school holidays because she was watching it. My Dad is so aware of the addictive nature of the programme than when I mentioned I'd found it online last night, he groaned and asked how many episodes I'd watched.

As I write this, episode nine of series two is on - so that's the 19th episode since Friday night. That's rather excessive. The worst thing about the addiction is that you start developing what I like to call a 'Tenko mentality' - watch too many episodes in one go, alone in your bedroom and you start believing that you too are interned on a Sumatran island. Suddenly you have an overwhelming urge to eat rice and make hats out of grass. You know you need to stop watching for a while when you've eaten rice for more than two meals in a row.

So, if you'd like to know what the fuss is about and lose 1500 minutes of your life, here's episode one:

Niche and childish Friday Fun (Updated)

2011-09-23T11:07:00.001+01:00

Having been on retreat for most of the week, my exposure to things of an internet based, fun nature has been limited. I did discover Draw a Stick Man, but so did most of the Twittersphere and Facebook. If by some chance you haven't stumbled across it, it's a genius five minute distraction (and absorbed me while I was finding a viewing of Source Code less than captivating).

If you're a fan of classic girls' school stories, you can indulge in 30 minutes of immense fun by listening to a programme on the Chalet School on iPlayer - God bless Radio 4 for commissioning this. Guests are quizzed throughout the show and anyone in the vicinity of my bedroom last night would have heard cries of "Emerence Hope you dumkopf!' [excellent use of Chaletian German slang I feel] and a frantic yelling of eleven names - "Len, Con, Margot, Steve, Charles, Mike, Felix, Felicity, Geoff & Philippa!" [the Maynard offspring] It also included revelations such as how to pronounce 'Chaletian' and 'Elisaveta' (neither were pronounced the way I've been saying them for two decades). Anyway, it was a lot of fun for me, but probably only fun for a minimal number of blog readers...

If you're a Greenbelter and/or friends with me and the folk I go to Greenbelt with, you might find my friend Jenni's video of this year's festival fun:

Jenni's recently become passionate about creating videos, which can be a tad disconcerting when you're out and about with her (I've actually just remembered that she filmed some of my birthday, must find out what happened to that...) but produces really quite impressive results. The best thing about this video is that it captures the essence of our Greenbelt - Pie Minister, the French sausage stall, sitting around in our PJs under the gazebo, singing and the obligatory eating of cake in the beer tent. Beautiful.

All of the above is either niche, or not particular new, so I feel as though I'm letting the Friday Fun side down. So as a final attempt to make you laugh this morning, I present you with a series of boyish pranks that really go to show, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again...

Attempt one at the pulling the table cloth away trick:

Attempt two:

Attempt three:

And finally, attempt four:

Yes, it's obviously not quite the disaster it appears to be, but I do rather like the concept. Plus, it made me laugh out loud and this morning that's got to be a good thing.

WAIT! It's not over yet...
You know what's also childish? Sesame Street and my passion for Glee. Thus it is utterly awesome that Sesame Street has parodied the now exiled on Sky tv show. Appropriately for a song about the letter G, this is g-g-g-genius:

How to freak out your flatmates...

2011-09-22T23:42:00.000+01:00

...via social networking.

Officially, I've inhabited my new flat for four weeks. Officially, 'the Norwegians' have inhabited it for three weeks and one day. Despite the potential difficulties of one male & one female 18 year old sharing their space with a 30 year old female, we're getting on well. A colour-coded cleaning rota has been established (and we've all skipped at least one job), meals have been eaten together and various community issues have been faced together. [i.e. We join together in ensuring that repairs/continued modifications to the flat happen. There is now a series of Google docs for this purpose...]

Given our hectic schedules, we don't actually cross paths that often, but inevitably their presence in my life has resulted in some Norwegian themed tweets, beginning on their very first night:

I think there are now Norwegians in the flat. Their bags are here, but I can't see them...

Have found the Norwegians. Turns out they were out buying rye bread & I fell asleep before they got back.

Obeying my usual social media rules, I will not be sharing their personal information via Twitter (or blogging), nor will I be venting my frustrations or anger - it's not the done thing. It's especially not the done thing when more than half of the church staff team follow you on Twitter. That would include our Office Manager, the Administrator, Worship Leader, Prayer Coordinator and the Vicar's wife.

What I've discovered is that people talk about what they read on Twitter, meaning that this tweet: Delighted to hear Norwegian flatmate singing along to Wicked - would suggest a logical excuse for viewing number 4 of my favourite musical! resulted in our Office Manager - apropos of nothing - telling Female Norwegian that she'd heard she sang and liked Wicked. FN was rather confused and didn't seem any the wiser when Twitter was mentioned. For all I knew, she could have thought that I was sharing her every move with the world!

Today we returned from three days on retreat with the other staff in an idyllic countryside location. We've bonded a bit more and had a long chat tonight about the new dress code and their evening pursuit of paying home visits to families and children in the church. On FN's list is the vicar's family and she paid them a visit today, during which the vicar's wife offered her some toilet paper - cue confusion as to how she could possibly know that we needed some! This is how she knew:

No toilet paper in flat - bad. Post containing unexpected windfall from elderly relative - excellent.

I've decided that there's only one solution to this potential housemate issue - FN (and MN, if he's particularly bothered about it, which I suspect he isn't) will simply have to join Twitter and participate in the conversation. Simple.

[The other bonus of this solution is that she'd also be able to join in with the under-current of office banter that exists both during and outside of office gatherings. It's an excellent form of bonding and occasionally a fantastic way of baiting people - like when I tried (and failed) to prove the worship leader wrong on a simply ridiculous claim that cow feed affects the ability of milk to be frothed...]

Belated birthday brilliance

2011-09-20T07:03:00.002+01:00

My 30th birthday has really been the birthday that keeps on giving. In the last couple of weeks I've acquired two birthday gifts that are quintessentially me - I have excellent friends.

The first of these was actually a bonus birthday/moving house gift from the lovely Annabelle. Ordered months ago, it had arrived late so she'd given me a lovely baking themed present instead. But the tardy present was (is) genius...

What are things I like? Well, jewellery would definitely be up there, especially earrings. What else am I passionate about? Punctuation. Can you combine the two? Why yes, it seems you can:

If you'd like your own punctuation, you can buy them from Nerd Goddess on Etsy.

Those, my friends, are mix and match punctuation earrings - semi-colon, question mark, speech mark, exclamation mark and...the all important apostrophe. Now whenever I have the urge to correct someone's apostrophe usage, all I have to do is place my earring in the correct location. Marvellous.

The second gift arrived on Sunday, when my favourite Gloucestrians paid me a flying visit en route to helping their eldest move house. For weeks we'd been trying to fix up a meeting as they were very keen to give me my present, which intriguingly couldn't be posted. When I was handed the parcel it was soon clear why - it was large and picture frame shaped, so presumably cumbersome and delicate. Unwrapping it, I discovered this:

In case you can't read it, it says:

Lizzie likes... [Yes, they count as family, thus I'm "Lizzie".]

Singing with the choir. [That's a given.]

Yummy cupcakes. [Ditto.]

Chalet School books. [But of course.]

Travelling. [Hell yes.]

Flip Flops. [True, but now they kill my ankles.]

Church on Sunday. [And any other day.]

Glee. [Well duh!]

Paris in July. [Paris whenever really.]

The Greenwoods. [Like is an understatement.]

Ben Fogle. [Ahhhhh....]

Wishing she could still be a Brownie, even though she's 30. [Running in-joke.]

How impressive! Turns out they'd only had to consult family on two items - favourite food and favourite celebrity crush. (My sister apparently suggested Colin Firth initially, which is odd as I don't think I've ever professed an ardent liking of him - not that I'd say no, obviously. Ben Fogle is genius and true, the only alternative would've been Alan Rickman.) They really are the best gift givers on special birthdays - on my 21st I received a film poster style painting of my life ('The girl from Tonga'...) - and they put a lot of thought and effort into it. Bless them.

So, once I finally get some special picture hooks later this week I'll be able to adorn my new room with my new art. This and my specially commissioned Dave Walker cartoon will obviously have pride of place.

Beachwear is not appropriate

2011-09-19T07:49:00.004+01:00

Lately, I've been thinking rather more than usual about what I should wear and when. It's partly because, with the arrival of a new job and a new life as a student, I'm meeting a lot of new people; and partly because I have a new status as 'ordinand' or church leader, which means I have to think a little bit more carefully about how I'm perceived.

I think I've always liked a bit of structure to my apparel. Growing up, there was school uniform and then there was non-uniform - the boundaries between the two were pretty clear. (And I was the kind of geek who never customised their uniform with anything more daring than a Prefect badge...) Over the last few years I'd developed a pretty good working wardrobe, with 'presentation' dresses (for important occasions), regular working dresses, skirts and the odd indulgence in a denim Friday. All of a sudden, that structure's gone...

In America, the pressure of first day of school outfits is well documented - with this Hairpin article from a week or so ago showing that even with the passing of the years, people can remember how they tried to make a good impression upon their peers. It's a good job that I had a uniform at school, because quite frankly, there's no way I could have stood the pressure! But last week, I had my own first day of school and the pressure was on. What does one wear to their first day at vicar school? [One can safely assume that a dog collar would be too much, as would a nun's habit...]

The welcome day was easily sorted - it was a Saturday and I had a social engagement to head to after the day ended, thus the outfit needed to be both respectable and socialising friendly. The induction day was trickier - a smaller group of people and, if other people's memories work the way mine does, a potential to remembered in the first outfit I was seen in for eternity. [The second week of class is going to be interesting as presumably everyone will have changed their clothes and I will no longer be able to connect a yellow t-shirt with a church plant in Kentish Town. Curse my visual memory...] Jeans were the logical answer, but I don't really like wearing them much; the denim shorts/tights combo would probably be a tad risque; a dress, though comfortable, might look a little over the top - what's a girl to do? Ultimately, jeans won, I fitted in and looked perfectly normal. They will be fooled for now...

A more complicated question was what to wear while being introduced to my new church community. Last year, I discovered an interesting difference in church styles - I say 'interesting', it's merely the effect of having worshipped in an uber trendy church for nearly 7 years. I've been conditioned into dressing for church, it being a good (and usually safe) place to try out new outfits and get affirmed. It's also nice to have a place that you know you can dress up for, because dressing up's fun and sometimes life doesn't provide enough opportunities for it. What I realised last year is that not all churches are St Mary's, in fact, only St Mary's is St Mary's. In most churches, young adults wear jeans and hoodies. All of a sudden, I'm 'most churches'.

S'ok though, I no longer need to seek clothes boundaries for work - I've been given a sheet with them on. At my second staff meeting, we were issued with a church dress code. [There are so many new staff/interns that our office manager decided we needed a policy - fair enough - and so she took one from another big church whose initials may include B, T & H as a template.] I read through the document confident that I hadn't fallen foul of it that morning, then reached its third paragraph and sniggered. The sniggers soon became near infectious laughter as the curate and worship leader reached the same point and joined in with my giggles...

"In other words, beach wear is not allowed - strappy tops, vest tops, shorts, crop tops, and flip-flops, bikinis, burkinis etc."

Yes, that word before 'etc' is 'burkini'. I am banned from wearing a burkini to work, gutted. Turns out our American colleague hadn't understood the word and assumed it was slang for Birkenstocks [we'll leave aside why anyone would want to ban Birkenstocks from a church - half the congregation would have to leave]. She was floored when we explained it was an islamic swimming costume. It also makes me wonder two things:
(i) Had anyone ever tried to go to work at our sister church in a burkini, thus meaning that they felt the need to specifically mention them?
(ii) Did anyone ever go in wearing a bikini? Surely even the most empty-headed church worker would realise that such clothing is unacceptable in any workplace other than (potentially) a surf club?

Perfect office wear...

Anyway, I'm sure I'll figure it all out in due course. Who knows, maybe I'll delight in the ability to hide in hoodies for a few years before the horrors of clerical clothing manifest themselves?

Friday Fun from the archives

2011-09-16T00:54:00.000+01:00

Friday Fun is getting political. I know we're nowhere near an election (unfortunately), but I spotted a real gem courtesy of John on Twitter and it amused me so much that I had to share. It tickled me for several reasons:
1. It's a public information film from 1949 - there is always humour to be had from such things.
2. Much of it (if you're of left-leaning sympathies) will have you laughing hard at the Conservative party, which is a great thing in the current climate.
3. By the end of it, you will actually have learnt some useful political skills that may stand you in good stead for future life.

The film in question is 'The Personal Touch' from the Yorkshire Film Archive and was made by the Conservative party to teach its members how to canvass effectively in the run up to the election that eventually took place in early 1950 - this being the election following Labour's landslide in 1945. (In case you're unfamiliar with the concept, canvassing is a means of establishing who votes what in which neighbourhoods and is also an opportunity to plug your party's cause. The British seem to be obsessed with it - not sure if it actually happens in other countries.) As the film itself states in its introduction:

Very true. Dated, but educational - for a whole host of reasons...

Many of its lessons do still ring true today. For example, the film tells us not to assume that someone is a socialist just because they live in a small house. The opening dialogue involving a Tory canvasser and an innocent occupier of a small house is delightful:

"Most of the people on this street are socialists. I assume from your house that you must be one too..."

[She declared that she wasn't. Neither was she a Tory.]

"If you're not a Socialist or a Conservative, I suppose you're a Liberal. I'll put you down as an 'L' - look! It looks like you're a learner! You've got a lot to learn if you're a Liberal..."

[She wasn't a Liberal either. We never do find out who she intended to vote for - I'll bet it was the Monster Raving Loony Party.]

Also, one should pay little attention to the party broadcasts from the opposition. There's the usual scaremongering about how society will continue to deteriorate under a left-wing government (what with the awful things they initiated, like the NHS) and what disasters will occur thanks to the pressure of the Trade Unions...the familiar right versus left stuff.

Plus, there's a whole lot of legal rambling about what you can and can't do during canvassing and how this changes during an election. Knowing the way the British political system works, this is probably still the case now - we love having rigorous election rules. (We just aren't so keen on having the fairest voting system...)

Anyway, do watch and enjoy. It's long (over 20 minutes) but well worth it. If that wets your appetite for a little more archive film amusement, I highly recommend 'Journey by a London bus' (buses are so simple to use that even Africans from 'Keenya' can use them...) and 'Growing Girls' (a terrifying insight into how 'gals' in the 1950's grew up) from the BFI YouTube channel. Both have been mentioned on the blog before, but they stand up well to multiple viewings - trust me.

If this is all far too educational for you for it to be fun, then spend the next four minutes being mesmerised by a Japanese water fountain - you'll be serene for the rest of the day.

Model London

2011-09-14T18:35:00.000+01:00

Last week I finally had the opportunity to explore somewhere featured in a Friday Fun from back in March. The '10 Quirky London Places' video inspired me to seek out a few places I hadn't heard of before, including one that I knew I'd passed several times before, but hadn't realised I could freely explore...

The first stop on their speedy tour around London is the Building Centre on Store Street - a street that runs between Tottenham Court Road and Gower Street. On the ground floor of this building is a truly amazing construction, a scale model of London, showing all proposed building projects - like the Olympics and CrossRail. Last week I was passing and grabbed the opportunity to take a peek. It was utterly breathtaking and totally mesmerising.

This is what you find inside:

Impressive, no?

And, it's obviously obligatory to try and find your home (and other personal landmarks) on the map. My old Bermondsey home was just off the map, but the King's Cross residence was there - and I think this photo shows it, but it's rather difficult to tell!

Blink & you'd miss it, but there's a faint red circle where I think I live...

At this point I should probably warn friends that this delight is but a short walk from my abode/workplace, so I can take you to visit with great ease - it'll be fun, promise!