Changing reality through the power of words

You can do remarkable things with words. You can even change reality if you put your mind to it.

Normally every Sunday afternoon, the Beaker Folk are set the Community Chores. It has to be Sunday, because that's when most people don't have day jobs. And when they are allocated their chores, everybody grumbles. Nobody likes chores, especially if they include the draining of fields or the sandpapering of balustrades or doing the laundry for the entire Community. And so I've been engaging in some verbal creativity.

From now on, Chores have been renamed "Enlightenments". In this way I hope that everybody sees what they are doing as a step in their spiritual journey, a discipline of submission, a piece of engodliment, if you will.

However I've just seen them come back from today's enlightening, which mostly involved dragging the debris out of a number of ditches. And now I'm going to have to redefine the meaning of the word "enlightened", to mean "exhausted, sweaty and covered in mud."

Monday Morning Programme

8am. Wandering around, mumbling.

9am. Asking how the weekend went.

9.03. Liturgy of the coffee run.

9.30. Cry of 'How long, O Lord?'

10.00. Planning of holidays

10.30. Opening up of the hole-punch.

10.31. Picking-up of Chads.

11.00. Liturgy of the coffee run.

12.00. Going to buy lunch.

12.30. Eating lunch at desk.

13.00. Checking sky to see whether it's worth going out.

13.30. Lunch.

14.30. Liturgy of the coffee run.

15.00. Afternoon tea.

16.00. Catching up on some paperwork.

16.30. Fiddling with a stapler.

17.00. All right, just one last cup.

17.30. Waiting for boss to leave.

17.32. Boss leaves.

17.33. Recessional - Everbody else leaves.

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Poured out as a Drink Offering

I have been busy in the garden all morning, in between dodging the showers.  The Revd Syston Whyte-Plumb seems to have filled every inch of the ground with buried bottles and cans. I am told this was an attempt to hide his "habit". He received his drinks orders from the Tesco Internet service, but was too embarrassed to take the empties to the bottle bank or put them in the recycling bin. So he buried them at night.

After a couple of hours of digging I had a pile of bottles and a pile of cans, each as high as Goliath's navel and probably rather less appealing. And by this stage I was feeling quite tired. I sat down on the bench in the porch for a moment to have a short rest, and must have fallen asleep.

I was woken just a moment ago by two of my chapel members - the ones who saw me outside the Crown and Cushion last Friday night. Maud has rather a loud voice, and what dragged me out of the dreamless sleep of the innocent and godly were the words "No wonder he's asleep - look what he's got through already this morning." To which Elsie responded "Yeah, just the same as the last one."

I care not for the good favour of Man, but at this rate nobody's going to take the slightest note of my sermon on the dangers of intoxicating spirits in a few weeks.