Afraid it's bad news regarding this morning's Worship Encounter.
During the night some bats looking for a roost managed to get into the roof of the Moot House. Somehow their intrusion has confused the heating system, so it's -3C.
The Moot House is so horrendously cold the tea lights won't light, there's droppings all over the place and - given the temperature - the Beaker Quire have refused to play so we're resorting to Arnwulf playing a harmonium with fingerless gloves. It's not often you find a harmonium with fingerless gloves, so we'd better make the best of it.
I wasn't expecting to, but it looks like this morning's worship will be in the Anglican tradition.
Monday, 5 December 2011
Sunday, 4 December 2011
A Damp End to the Oncoming Winter Festival
It was such a cold, crisp day that we thought it would be a great time for our Oncoming Winter Festival.
So we took the brassieres out onto the great lawn, filled them with burning charcoal, tried to roast chestnuts on them - then realised our spelling mistake and went back to the garage to get the braziers. Set it all going for later, and then wandered off for the great Liturgy of Kicking Through the Leaves.
Of course the weather turned. Oh boy was that rain cold. And heavy. And wet. Kicking your way through sodden leaves when your hair's soaking wet is no example of joyful worship to set for anyone. We staggered back across the lawn, past the sodden braziers - although, to be fair, the brassieres were still burning well.
We're now freezing cold, the fire won't light (although the underwear on the lawn's even now still going), the heating's packed up, we've had no chestnuts and we're not feeling very keen on winter at all. Roll on Spring, I say.
So we took the brassieres out onto the great lawn, filled them with burning charcoal, tried to roast chestnuts on them - then realised our spelling mistake and went back to the garage to get the braziers. Set it all going for later, and then wandered off for the great Liturgy of Kicking Through the Leaves.
Of course the weather turned. Oh boy was that rain cold. And heavy. And wet. Kicking your way through sodden leaves when your hair's soaking wet is no example of joyful worship to set for anyone. We staggered back across the lawn, past the sodden braziers - although, to be fair, the brassieres were still burning well.
We're now freezing cold, the fire won't light (although the underwear on the lawn's even now still going), the heating's packed up, we've had no chestnuts and we're not feeling very keen on winter at all. Roll on Spring, I say.
Who's New in Heaven - John the Baptist
| Enter Angie the Recording Angel (a chat-show host) with a “This is Your Life” style book | |
| Angie | Hello, good morning, and welcome to “Who’s New in Heaven”, where every week we meet a new arrival and find out what they got up to on earth. I’m Angie the Recording Angel, and this week I’ll be opening up the Book of Life with a very special guest. Here he is - ladies and gentleman, it’s John the Baptist. |
| Enter John the Baptist, carrying a guitar, accompanied by the riff from “Smoke on the Water”. | |
| Angie | John the Baptist. Welcome to heaven. Great to have our first saint on the program. |
| JTB | Thanks very much, Angie. It’s good to be here. |
| Angie | And nice to see your head back where it belongs. Helps to keep the guitar on, I bet. Now, St John. Some people are saying where did it all go wrong? A promising start to your career, then cut cruelly short |
| JTB | Yeah, in more ways than one. |
| Angie | Quite. But in the early days, you just seemed to explode on the scene. |
| JTB | Yeah, people talk like I came from nowhere. But you’ve got to realise I paid my dues, out playing the provincial gigs before the crowds started to arrive. Years of hard work, learning the craft, out in the desert. |
| Angie | And I believe that times were hard, then. |
| JTB | Yeah. Locusts and honey. That’s all I had to eat. Though you could make the locusts taste better by dipping them in the honey. And the honey tasted even better if you didn't eat the locusts. |
| Angie | But it was during that time in the desert that your wrote your first big hit? |
| JTB | Absolutely. “Repent for the Kingdom of God is at hand”. Went to number 1 in Judea. |
| Angie | So the crowds packed in. Biggest draw in the Decapolis. You must have felt on top of the world. |
| JTB | Yeah, and the hits rolled out. “Give your coat to someone who doesn’t have one.” That was the follow up. We were rocking all over the known world. |
| Angie | And what would you say was the pinnacle of your career? |
| JTB | Had to be the time when I worked with Jesus. I remember the first time I saw him - I just stood there and said “Behold the Lamb of God”. |
| Angie | Of course, that was your next hit? |
| JTB | Oh yeah. “Behold the Lamb of God” was huge. |
| Angie | And it’s going to be covered for the next two thousand years. |
| JTB | Cool. I knew I was in the presence of the Master. I wasn’t fit to change his guitar strings. |
| Angie | But Jesus’ arrival on the scene caused some disruption for you, musically? |
| JTB | Well, some of my backing musicians joined his group. Peter, and Andrew, and Nicodemus. Best horn section I ever had. But then, we were part of a real vibrant scene, I had plenty of others wanting to join the band, and let’s face it. He was the best. At that first gig – I saw the Holy Spirit fall on him. He was the Son of God. |
| Angie | So why did you split up? |
| JTB | Artistic differences. There was no doubt about it, if I stayed with Jesus I was always going to be singing backing vocals. And I still felt like I had something to offer – somewhere to develop. |
| Angie | But it was your protest songs that upset Herod? |
| JTB | Well, particularly upset his wife. And of course she got him to have my head cut off. |
| Angie | That must have been the lowest moment for you. |
| JTB | Wish you'd stop making gags about it. But oddly enough, not really. I mean, it was bad, but it brought me here. Thinking back, it was when I was in prison, wondering whether Jesus was really who he said he was. That was the real darkest time. |
| Angie | You doubted if he was the Son of God? |
| JTB | I did. I mean, I’d thought the Kingdom coming in would mean we were on the Stairway to Heaven. I thought, Nothing’s Gonna Stop us Now. |
| Angie | Instead you’d ended up on the Road to Nowhere. |
| JTB | Yeah. And doing the Jailhouse Rock. |
| Angie | So, looking back – was he the Son of God? |
| JTB | It’s like the man said. The lame walked, the blind could see, the deaf could hear and the dead were raised. Course he was. |
| Angie | Now, John, nobody leaves the show empty-handed. So we’ve just got time to show you a few things that you’ll be remembered by on earth. You get two feast days. Most saints will only get one, if they’re lucky. [Hands over “Feast Day” cards from his book]. You get your own symbol – the Lamb and Flag. [Hands over inn sign] – there’ll be a few pubs named after that. |
| JTB | Bit ironic, seeing’s I didn’t even drink. |
| Angie | And every year, during the days of Advent, people all over the world will light a candle to remember you – the man who recognised the Son of God, and stood firm in his witness to the end. |
| JTB | Nice. |
| Angie | John the Baptist, thank you very much. Join us next week, when in a specially shortened program we’ll be hoping to have a word with Lazarus. Till then, it’s goodbye from John the Baptist; |
| JTB | Goodbye |
| Angie | And goodbye from me. [Exit both] |
Saturday, 3 December 2011
Chrome all the Way Down
Hearing heart-rending sobs from Burton Dasset just now, I found him reading a blog post about comparative browser usage. It would seem that Chrome has overtaken the Firefox so belonged of geeks, programmers and other assorted people with no social skills.
This sort of thing sent me rushing to Google Analytics of course. Or, in fact, it sent me rushing to Young Keith who looked the stats up for me. Turns out that Chrome is the browser of choice for visitors to the Beaker Folk, weighing in at 25% of all visits. Firefox is just behind with 23%.
Interestingly, Internet Explorer barely clings onto third place - 20% compared to Safari's 19%. I can confidently say that the Beaker Folk is one of the least beholden blogs around, either to Microsoft or the hippies of Apple. Although given our use of Google Anaytics, the Chrome Browser and my new-found love of an Android device - I'm starting to think a new Microsoft is looming in our midst. Tell you what, to be on the safe side I'm going to boycott Google+.
By the way, I note that in the last month I had 7 visitors using Blackberry. You've got to admire their guts.
This sort of thing sent me rushing to Google Analytics of course. Or, in fact, it sent me rushing to Young Keith who looked the stats up for me. Turns out that Chrome is the browser of choice for visitors to the Beaker Folk, weighing in at 25% of all visits. Firefox is just behind with 23%.
Interestingly, Internet Explorer barely clings onto third place - 20% compared to Safari's 19%. I can confidently say that the Beaker Folk is one of the least beholden blogs around, either to Microsoft or the hippies of Apple. Although given our use of Google Anaytics, the Chrome Browser and my new-found love of an Android device - I'm starting to think a new Microsoft is looming in our midst. Tell you what, to be on the safe side I'm going to boycott Google+.
By the way, I note that in the last month I had 7 visitors using Blackberry. You've got to admire their guts.
In the Midst of Death
They've a lot to teach us, the species of the genus Acer.
Take this sycamore. The leaves are dead - yellow and blotched and diseased-looking. They're clinging on to the tree, but the next breath of wind will take them off. A sign of death and despair - the year dies by a Midlands by-pass.
The Market Don't Like It
A couple of things that I've been musing on.
Firstly a comment from raconteur and atheist-about-town, Gurdur on Twitter that "the Market gives you what you think you want, not what you need". And secondly a remark on the BBC that the central banks were intervening to sell cheap dollars as, if each American bank were left to lend, they'd not do so to protect themselves and that, while each bank individually doing that might be sensible for each bank, if every bank acted like that the whole system would crash to a halt. Which, whatever you think about capitalism, would be a bad thing if it happened. I reckon if you want to smash the system you should do it slowly - maybe by sitting in a tent in the cold. But the point is that, by lots of people making small rational decisions, the Market makes large irrational ones.
It was the mythical concept of the "market" as an entity in its own right that nudged me. I say "mythical" not in the sense of "untrue" or "imaginary" so much as "expressing truth in a vivid way". And in this Advent season, where better to look than the book of Daniel?
"So he said, “Do you know why I have come to you? Soon I will return to fight against the prince of Persia, and when I go, the prince of Greece will come; but first I will tell you what is written in the Book of Truth. (No one supports me against them except Michael, your prince." (Dan 10:20-21)
You don't have to believe in angels, good or otherwise, to understand the concept - the "prince of Persia", expressed in angelic form, could be taken as the spirit of the Persian people and so on. But maybe the "Market" can be seen in the same way.
The governments of the world, of course, bow down to the Market. It is said you can't buck it. You must prove yourself strong to be trusted. For if you cannot feed the Market with the debt repayments it deserves, it will not pour out its bounty upon you with lower bond rates. If you cannot impress the Market with your country's virtue, your currency will decline or - if you are in the Euro - you will be required to cut the size of your state. Democracy is no defence - if you cannot meet the Market's ravenous demands then it will install a new leader for you - one who understands the ways of the Market.
The Market is no being in its own right. Like the deities of the ancient RPG of Runequest, it gathers its strength from those who believe in it. It is made up of the behaviours of millions of shareholders, dealers, pension fund savers, and beyond those - through the companies whose value is traded in The Market - the consumers who feed the beasts and are fed in turn. The Market has delivered much to those who believe in it - where once we had the choice of two kinds of instant coffee in supermarkets, today we can have half an aisle of filters in a variety of countries of origin and strengths - decaff or full-caff or, for all I know, passed through the digestive tract of a civet. But it has done it at the cost of corner shops, of lives and livelihoods. But it is to the Market that we look to keep us in our old age, to give us somewhere to save our money, to provide funds when we need a new car or house.
It's a beast to be sure, is the Market. It consumes people and governments alike. On the whole I hope it's mythical. Because if it's anything else, it's a scary old thing. Best to keep on the right side of it. Anyone want to buy some bonds?
Just after writing the above I read this in the Guardian. It's obviously the trendy metaphor.
Firstly a comment from raconteur and atheist-about-town, Gurdur on Twitter that "the Market gives you what you think you want, not what you need". And secondly a remark on the BBC that the central banks were intervening to sell cheap dollars as, if each American bank were left to lend, they'd not do so to protect themselves and that, while each bank individually doing that might be sensible for each bank, if every bank acted like that the whole system would crash to a halt. Which, whatever you think about capitalism, would be a bad thing if it happened. I reckon if you want to smash the system you should do it slowly - maybe by sitting in a tent in the cold. But the point is that, by lots of people making small rational decisions, the Market makes large irrational ones.
It was the mythical concept of the "market" as an entity in its own right that nudged me. I say "mythical" not in the sense of "untrue" or "imaginary" so much as "expressing truth in a vivid way". And in this Advent season, where better to look than the book of Daniel?
"So he said, “Do you know why I have come to you? Soon I will return to fight against the prince of Persia, and when I go, the prince of Greece will come; but first I will tell you what is written in the Book of Truth. (No one supports me against them except Michael, your prince." (Dan 10:20-21)
You don't have to believe in angels, good or otherwise, to understand the concept - the "prince of Persia", expressed in angelic form, could be taken as the spirit of the Persian people and so on. But maybe the "Market" can be seen in the same way.
The governments of the world, of course, bow down to the Market. It is said you can't buck it. You must prove yourself strong to be trusted. For if you cannot feed the Market with the debt repayments it deserves, it will not pour out its bounty upon you with lower bond rates. If you cannot impress the Market with your country's virtue, your currency will decline or - if you are in the Euro - you will be required to cut the size of your state. Democracy is no defence - if you cannot meet the Market's ravenous demands then it will install a new leader for you - one who understands the ways of the Market.
The Market is no being in its own right. Like the deities of the ancient RPG of Runequest, it gathers its strength from those who believe in it. It is made up of the behaviours of millions of shareholders, dealers, pension fund savers, and beyond those - through the companies whose value is traded in The Market - the consumers who feed the beasts and are fed in turn. The Market has delivered much to those who believe in it - where once we had the choice of two kinds of instant coffee in supermarkets, today we can have half an aisle of filters in a variety of countries of origin and strengths - decaff or full-caff or, for all I know, passed through the digestive tract of a civet. But it has done it at the cost of corner shops, of lives and livelihoods. But it is to the Market that we look to keep us in our old age, to give us somewhere to save our money, to provide funds when we need a new car or house.
It's a beast to be sure, is the Market. It consumes people and governments alike. On the whole I hope it's mythical. Because if it's anything else, it's a scary old thing. Best to keep on the right side of it. Anyone want to buy some bonds?
Just after writing the above I read this in the Guardian. It's obviously the trendy metaphor.
Friday, 2 December 2011
News at the Occupy Protest
Much outrage down at St Paul's.
Apparently among the tent sales people, flash-mob choristers, unemployed canons, plain-clothes police and undercover reporters, they've found a genuine protester. Everyone's livid.
Apparently among the tent sales people, flash-mob choristers, unemployed canons, plain-clothes police and undercover reporters, they've found a genuine protester. Everyone's livid.
The Irresistible Will of God and the Former Rothersthorpe Services
It was a strange and unsettling experience today at the Services Formerly Known as Rothersthorpe on the M1.
I was meeting a friend from Towcester there, with the intention of both going on to our Autumn Visit to Arbor Low. And for convenience in going on together, we agreed to meet at the Northampton Services, while for my personal convenience in going home, I was parking up at the southbound services.
I don't know if you know Northampton services? They're quite complex, what with the signs to the Swan Valley business park, and they're digging up another field for something else which looked quite interesting. And I was pondering to myself whether the bridge over the motorway at that services is for patrons and staff, or just for staff*.
So what with one thing and another my mind wandered. I paid insufficient attention to the signposts on the roundabout, and went down the slip road that leads back onto the M1. Too late, I realised I was on my way back towards Husborne Crawley.
For a moment, my mind failed me and I thought I was destined to drive all the way down to Junction 14 (Milton Keynes and Newport Pagnell), but then I realised that the services are at Junction 15A, and wondrously that meant I could do a U-ey, as I believe it's called, at J15. And I gave thanks to a loving God for saving me that long drive back to MK.
Which is an odd thing to do, when you think about it. Because surely in the ineffable foresight of an omniscient Deity, God must have known that one day, that is exactly what I was going to do. When the clayfields of the Nene and Ouse valleys were being laid down, it was already written that I would do that very mindless bit of manoeuvring, but be saved from all that time wasted by the wonderful provision of an extra junction - subject, of course, to my own free will - which could still be foreseen in advance, such is the wonder of Providence. But was that extra junction put in for me? Was the Service Station put near Rothersthorpe, and not near Roade, specially so I could meet my friend at the appointed time?
I guess it's one for the philosophers. Maybe I was just lucky.
* It's just staff, if you're interested.
I was meeting a friend from Towcester there, with the intention of both going on to our Autumn Visit to Arbor Low. And for convenience in going on together, we agreed to meet at the Northampton Services, while for my personal convenience in going home, I was parking up at the southbound services.
I don't know if you know Northampton services? They're quite complex, what with the signs to the Swan Valley business park, and they're digging up another field for something else which looked quite interesting. And I was pondering to myself whether the bridge over the motorway at that services is for patrons and staff, or just for staff*.
So what with one thing and another my mind wandered. I paid insufficient attention to the signposts on the roundabout, and went down the slip road that leads back onto the M1. Too late, I realised I was on my way back towards Husborne Crawley.
For a moment, my mind failed me and I thought I was destined to drive all the way down to Junction 14 (Milton Keynes and Newport Pagnell), but then I realised that the services are at Junction 15A, and wondrously that meant I could do a U-ey, as I believe it's called, at J15. And I gave thanks to a loving God for saving me that long drive back to MK.
Which is an odd thing to do, when you think about it. Because surely in the ineffable foresight of an omniscient Deity, God must have known that one day, that is exactly what I was going to do. When the clayfields of the Nene and Ouse valleys were being laid down, it was already written that I would do that very mindless bit of manoeuvring, but be saved from all that time wasted by the wonderful provision of an extra junction - subject, of course, to my own free will - which could still be foreseen in advance, such is the wonder of Providence. But was that extra junction put in for me? Was the Service Station put near Rothersthorpe, and not near Roade, specially so I could meet my friend at the appointed time?
I guess it's one for the philosophers. Maybe I was just lucky.
* It's just staff, if you're interested.
Phil gets it about right
As I said, I'd missed a lot of the Clarkson argument. Which will teach me to pay more attention.
Phil comments on the rest of his remarks the other night. The bit that those who were artificially outraged missed. The bit that was genuinely outrageous (and wrong). And Phil gets it about right.
Phil comments on the rest of his remarks the other night. The bit that those who were artificially outraged missed. The bit that was genuinely outrageous (and wrong). And Phil gets it about right.
Jeremy Clarkson
I missed Jeremy Clarkson on telly, although I heard recordings of it later. He said some buffoonish things on telly and people got very angry. But it sounds, from the clip that I heard, that he was being deliberately and obviously buffoonish - the words "But this is the BBC and I'd better be balanced..." or thereabouts were a bit of a clue.
And I heard the leader of a union that had been wanting to bring legal action on "PM" last night, saying that she had spoken to her lawyers but since Jeremy had said sorry, they'd take it no further. The questioner on PM was quite kind, but even under that light questioning it sounded like the "advice from the lawyers" to the union was "don't you think you're being a bit silly?"
So to summarise Jeremy Clarkson acted like an idiot and the unions jumped up and down making a fuss and attracting attention to themselves. Jeremy Clarkson - a man known for saying ludicrously right-wing things in an "ironic" manner - was invited on a programme on the day of a strike, and said something right-wing and ludicrous intended to be ironic. And was deliberately misunderstood for political effect.
Strikes me we didn't learn much here. I wonder what would have happened if it had been Jimmy Carr saying it?
And I heard the leader of a union that had been wanting to bring legal action on "PM" last night, saying that she had spoken to her lawyers but since Jeremy had said sorry, they'd take it no further. The questioner on PM was quite kind, but even under that light questioning it sounded like the "advice from the lawyers" to the union was "don't you think you're being a bit silly?"
So to summarise Jeremy Clarkson acted like an idiot and the unions jumped up and down making a fuss and attracting attention to themselves. Jeremy Clarkson - a man known for saying ludicrously right-wing things in an "ironic" manner - was invited on a programme on the day of a strike, and said something right-wing and ludicrous intended to be ironic. And was deliberately misunderstood for political effect.
Strikes me we didn't learn much here. I wonder what would have happened if it had been Jimmy Carr saying it?
Thursday, 1 December 2011
The Morning after Bling Night
So we enter the official period of Secular Advent with our Community Christmas lights emphatically lit up.
Now we just have the minor problem of jacking Drayton's cottage back up to ground level.
And, of course, rounding up all the killer penguins that were so unexpectedly released yesterday. But in a refreshing change to modern attitudes to these sorts of alien killer-beasts we won't be hunting them down and wiping them out. Oh no. We shall be introducing them to an effective process of reconciliation, recognising that they are not so much evil as badly programmed. I'd better crank up the "Ode to Joy".
Now we just have the minor problem of jacking Drayton's cottage back up to ground level.
And, of course, rounding up all the killer penguins that were so unexpectedly released yesterday. But in a refreshing change to modern attitudes to these sorts of alien killer-beasts we won't be hunting them down and wiping them out. Oh no. We shall be introducing them to an effective process of reconciliation, recognising that they are not so much evil as badly programmed. I'd better crank up the "Ode to Joy".
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