Chinese whispers

Now there's an oddly appealing thought.

The woman who cleans the telephones warns that there are mice as small as fleas that live in your computer keyboard if you don't clean it properly.

I think this probably refers to mites rather than mice, but suddenly I rather wish there were a family of tiny little mice with pink noses living under my keyboard.

Sadly, this blog entry would have just crushed several of them, so perhaps it's best not....

Head of Evangelical Alliance tells Christians to be nice to gay people.

No, really.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/religion/programmes/thought/week.shtml


This morning I heard a deeply encouraging message on Thought for the Day, in which the head of the Evangelical Alliance advised Christians not to protest against the new anti-discrimination law. As I understood it, his message was that although the Bible does talk about sex a small amount, it talks more about serving others, and like Good Samaritans, we sometimes need to put aside what’s theologically important in order to serve others. So while we may have a right to, eg, refuse gay people married style accommodation in our bed-and-breakfast on faith grounds, Christianity is about serving others, not banging on about our own rights.

You can read Philippians 2 if you don't believe me.

...alright, I'm back.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, I learnt that even good macaroni cheese can be made infinitely better by adding a few drops of Grandma Entwistle’s Lancashire Sauce to the cooking process. It’s available in a particular deli in Ramsbottom and possibly no where else, but I highly recommend it.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, I learnt that a man I have to telephone doesn’t have a answerphone. Consequently, he doesn’t know that I have been faithfully trying to get hold of him all weekend, and probably thinks that I am disorganized or lazy. Ah well.

And that was my Christmas, more or less. Now I'm in to frantic amounts of activity in order to get church accounts up to date, although I can't really finish that job until the bank statement arrives.
Too much working on the computer this weekend. Don't feel like I've actually had a break.

I’ve been told off for not blogging.

So, you learn something new every day, and these are some of the things I learnt this festive season:
On the first day of Christmas, (25Dec) I learnt that Nigella Lawson’s recipe for turkey really is the best you can get. Although, she is quite patronizing on the telly, and annoys Husband by describing quantities in terms of ‘snow’ ‘bit’ and ‘glug.’ Obviously my sister in law’s effort and skill on cooking Christmas dinner deserves most of the credit.

On the second day of Christmas, I learnt that my new hiking boots cause worrying red lines on my ankles, due to either being too tight or simply because my socks don’t come up as high as the boots.

On the third day of Christmas, I learnt that writing thankyou letters is nearly impossible while the TV is on. Even if it’s the awful live action 101 Dalmations, and especially if you’re coming up with a sincere yet still polite way of saying thankyou for towels.

On the fourth day of Christmas, I learnt that I still do have the ability to lie in til midday or longer, and it’s very very pleasant so to do.

On the fifth day of Christmas, I learnt that buying two pairs of hiking socks can take forty-five minutes, although in fairness I am probably now kitted out with the happiest feet you could go walking on.

On the sixth day of Christmas, I learnt that while I might have the best intentions of going walking to test out the new socks-and-boots combo, bed is much more comfortable. Consequently nothing much happened on Saturday.

On the seventh day of Christmas, I learnt that there are eight or nine unexploded WWII bombs in Middleton, and that ex-Home Guard volunteers enjoy scaring the bejasus out of people digging holes in the road by telling them that.

On the eighth day of Christmas, I learnt that New Year’s Day is the perfect time to go to the gym, as it is deserted. I presume that the place will be fit to bursting from the second of January to about the twenty-eighth.

On the ninth day of Christmas, I learnt that a whole year’s season ticket to Macclesfield costs £1,800, and that I would have been more sensible to buy it in December, before the fares went up.
Ouch.

On the tenth day of Christmas, I learnt that Sanctus1 is suggesting all it's members give up Sanctus1 for Lent, and take up some other useful project instead. I think this is a brilliant idea, although others have expressed doubts.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, I learnt nothing new before lunch. I'll be back later to update the last two days...

Big boom

It’s been a good week for kitchen explosions. First, Husband proved that a baked potato need fall from a surprisingly low height to cover all the kitchen floor in roast potato flesh, thus neatly making potato skins, ready scooped out and split in half. Then we bought some beer…
.. and so, sitting quietly at 9am on Sunday morning, chilling out, in an I-can’t-be-bothered-to-get-up-properly-yet way, suddenly I hear a terrible smashing sploshy sort of noise from the kitchen. I run in to the kitchen, and see nothing on the floor, no huge disaster, and come to the conclusion that the huge pile of washing up which was soaking in the sink must have somehow shifted, causing a sound of crockery splashing, but nothing seems broken, which seems odd considering the noise. Anyway, probably time I start doing last night’s washing up. Then I realize my feet are really quite wet. Funny, I think, I haven’t slopped that much washing up water around. I have a look and realize there’s a LOT of water down there, and begin to worry that the crash I heard was some kind of plumbing related pipe cracking sort of thing. And then I work out that my feet now smell of beer. Sure enough, when I open the cupboard next to the sink, that’s where all the beer bottles were stored. And one of them has exploded, sending glass right across the cupboard.
Of course, what I wasn’t sure of was why it had exploded, and whether the other ten were going to go at any minute, while I tried to shift them all out the way and mop up the delightful mixture of broken glass and Indian pale ale.

We think it may have simply been faulty glass. It doesn’t seem as if the rest are going to follow suit…
…but as they’re all sitting on the dining room table for the meantime, further explosions will get glass and beer into places we’ll never find til we move out.

Another new word

It occurred to me that some expressions of emerging church are open to people from all church backgrounds, or in posh speak, pan-denominational.

That means they're permanently in a state of Pandenomium.
Doesn't it?

Beer, beer, glorious beer.

The beer festival (sorry, Ale & Tapas festival) we attended in the Scilly Isles had five different types of cider, only one of which I didn't like. And of all the beers Husband wished to try, one wasn't tapped, but when we got home, we found our favourite pub has the same brand as guest beer this week, so he's a happy Husband. Even better yet, the Bull’s Head pub (your local in the heart of the city tm) is throwing a beer festival on the 20th – 22nd. Hurrah for beer festivals, so here’s some free publicity for them. They hope to have five different beers on at any one time, with several changes to the line up over the weekend. They’re not planning any ciders, though. Not that we really care, because with wonderful timing, we’ll be off doing Greenbelt socialising. At the other end of the country....

Arrived...

I've landed. It's quite good here at the new job - bit chaotic, but it'll suit me down to the ground.
Already, I've had a negotiation with a sales person who thinks all accountants are trolls. Then again, I mainly consider all sales people to be drama queens.

I've also generated a pretty-coloured spreadsheet, already it feels like home.

Unfortunately, I've taken too much on, so have now to prepare for the shared service tomorrow, go to see S, and type up Sanctus1 minutes. Less urgent things are also hovering. But add eating and breathing, and it's all becoming mightily unfeasible.

Perhaps I won't be able to get past the husband's password on the computer at home. That would help me put some things off til tomorrow.