Once More

Ticket Bought!

Now this should be fun. I saw Gary Moore and his band several times when I was a teenager in London - but haven't been to one of his gigs for probably fifteen years. I've just noticed that he's coming up to Glasgow in May, so have grabbed myself a ticket.

Moore has covered so many musical styles in his career (rock, pop, metal, celtic, jazz-fusion, dance, and blues) and with a new album out soon, I have no idea what sort of format his gig will take. I remember one gig at which a lot of dissilusioned head-bangers came expecting to hear his hard-rock catalogue but instead were treated to an evening of blues. Personally I'm hoping that it's the blues which dominates, because I think that is what he does best.

Usually Worth A Look

Oxford University Press have regular sales with many of their books flogged at 75% off. Since being pointed in their direction a few years ago by Dr Stumpy Greenisland I've found them a regular source of cheap, worthwhile reading.

Their latest offerings can be found at: http://www.oup.co.uk/sale/2007/

When your children think you are foreign

What do you do when, despite the fact that you have lived in Scotland all your adult life and have produced children who are self-consciously Scottish, you cannot adequately meet their demand for a Burns Supper?!

Our efforts went something like:

(a) A splendid Simon Howie haggis was duly purchased and cooked

(b) A few clicks found this site not only told us what to do, but enabled us to download the Slekirk Grace as well as the required "To A Haggis".

(c) A few more clicks downloaded some suitable bagpipe music onto the iPod, which when plugged into the stereo enabled us to clap the Haggis in, in some style!

And we were away!

My attempts to read the Burns made the poor old fella turn in his grave (and any living Scotsman within earshot descend into fits of giggles) so it was deemed more appropriate that the wife should bring her Celtic tones to bear on the work (albeit Ulster ones) . She aquitted herself admirably too!

The downside was that little Doris was absolutely petrified by the squirl of the pipes and she howled and howled and howled. It all blended together most melodiously I thought.

As for the Haggis - it was absolutely fantastic!

Address to a Haggis. (only part of!)

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,

Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!

Aboon them a' ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy of a grace

As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o need,

While thro your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,

An cut you up wi ready slight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like onie ditch; And then,

O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin, rich!

Rock 'ard!

Some idiot (ie. me) decided that it would be splendid idea to have an externally vented extractor fan in the kitchen.

The cooker is on an external wall and so we bought a new hood for it complete with a ducting kit.

Lord Lucan, supplier of all trades to the aristocracy and peasantry alike, said he had the required core-er and appeared ready to do the job.

All went well as first plasterboard then polystyrene and then brick dissapeared easily and were emptied out from the drill-end. Then we approached the outer wall of our sandstone house. Well - we anticpated that the rear wall would be sandstone, like the rest of the building and were a little surprised to find that we were trying to drill through solid granite, which seemed to object to being cored and put up a stiff fight. The main problem was that when the corer had cut it's full depth and could go no further, the central piece of rock was too strong to break off.

Many happy hours of drilling and chiseling later we got through!

Book Notes: 12 Books That Changed The World by Melvyn Bragg

It's about time I got into some of my Christmas presents. This one, for example, has been sitting waiting to be opened for far too long. Anyone who has enjoyed Bragg's "In Our Time" on the radio will appreciate this book, which is an accessible foray into the history of ideas. Bragg was prevented by the BBC for continuing to present 'Start the week' when he became a Labour peer, so the BBC created the series for him. This has proved to be very successful because Andrew Marr rejuvenated start the week, and Bragg has been freed in this series to explore many weird and wonderful historical tributaries to our stream of knowledge, culture and understanding.

The book has 12 short chapters each with brief notes on the composition and effects of 12 British books which have had a huge, long-lasting impact. The range of subjects looks compelling too, ranging from Shakespeare and and the Bible (hold on a minute, that's a different radio programme) to Newton and Farady, then Wollstonecraft, Stopes and Darwin.

Bragg is careful not to say these are "the" 12 books which changed the world and to claim more for his opinions than is appropriate - which is good. I like reading books like this, which can be picked up and put down easily, and read in the odd moments that family life permits. Plus, without much difficulty it broadens my knowledge, making me appear well-read for a fraction of the usual effort required.

Infra Red!

I am frankly appalled at the things which amuse me.

Thanks to Potts for the clip and doonhamergeordie for instructions on embedding it!

No snowballs yet

So near yet so far. The snow is still hanging beautifully on the surrounding hills, but its attempts to 'paint the town white' as it were, have all melted within seconds of landing. Boris and Norris look longingly at their little plastic sledges and ask when the snow is coming.

Book Notes: 'Toronto' in Perpective, David Holborn (ed)

I've just finished reading this collection of essays and short history of the so-called "Toronto" phenomena, the wave of extreme religious experience that swept through UK churches in the mid-1990s. The movement was controversial at the time, and it remains deeply so today. This book contains essays from a variety of perspectives, from those who unashamedly contest that this was a great blessing from God, to those who believe that it was a purely human experience, to those who would suggest that a more malign spiritual power underlay the events.

I remember the events of this era well. I was a student, and many of my Christian friends were reporting strange phenomena occurring at their church meetings, most noticeably waves of laughter and people descending into 'altered states of consciousness' during which profound spiritual impressions are made upon them. It didn't happen at my church. The book is more significant than this though because it emerges as case-study for theological method, assessing the principles by which the church must weigh and critique everything she does.

One of the most interesting aspects of the book, (published under the auspices of the theological study department of the evangelical alliance) was the way that church history was used by both proponents and detractors of the movement to bolster their case (because it was clear that there was no clear biblical precedent to justify some of the more extreme practices). Jonathan Edwards' works were especially rummaged through for fragments of evidence in this regard.

Physical and psychological manifestations of spiritual occurrences are nothing new. Church history is full of countless instances where people being profoundly changed (either converted or renewed) have exhibited unusual behaviour. Historically though these have always thought to have been extraneous to the genuine work of the Holy Spirit in the soul, and even classic revivalists like Wesley and Whitefield sought to stop them in meetings as mere distractions from the message. The Toronto movement however seemed to make such unusual manifestations the centre of the experience, not seeking to control but to facilitate them. This is disturbing.

Outright dismissal of the whole movement seems to create other problems though. Things are never that simple. For instance there were many proponents of the 'blessing' who were also troubled by the way in which it was being handled, people who were seeking to be both spiritually open and critically aware, against the minority for whom 'don't question, just receive' seemed to be the modus operandi. There were many who sought constant refinement of some of the practices involved in a conscious effort to hold onto the benefits of the spiritual experiences people were having, without some of the distortions which had come with it. It was this tension that caused a rift between the different streams within the movement itself.

As in response to enlightenment rationalism Christians sometimes tried to develop an overly 'systematic' faith in a way which took the faith into the thought forms of its time; so the term "messy spirituality" has come to fore in these post-modern times. The question is the degree to which the message of Christ can be 'incarnated' within a culture or should stand in contrast to it.

Ten years later, it the legacy of the movement is mixed. Many people report that it was a time in which their lives were immeasurably enriched, many people came to faith, and look back with thanks to this movement. Others remain implacably opposed to what they see as the excesses of the movement and it's failure to reflect theologically and curb its extremes. Still others look back with disappointment at something which they thought would profoundly change the church and the country but which has done neither.

This mish-mash of genuine spirituality, psychology, some manipulation and possibly even the demonic, certainly qualifies as "messy spirituality". The problem is that it's ultimately just too messy. The problem for the non-Charismatic/Pentecostal churches remains that the presence of God traditionally encountered in word and sacrament seems invisible to our contemporaries. The problem for our Charismatic/Pentecostal friends is that the demonstrations of His presence which they profess are sometimes so divorced from the Bible and theological reflection that they can be content-less and vacuous, like the experience the Daily Telegraph reporter had at Toronto during which he felt the presence of an irresistible force and had a profound experience - but didn't connect this experience with the message of Jesus. The fissure between this and the likes of Jonathan Edwards could not be more apparent.

One Day, Two Hospitals

Young Norris (aged 4) has enjoyed visits to two hospitals today, one planned, one unplanned! First of this morning we took him to Ninewells hospital in Dundee for a check-up on his ears which was fine - even though he has lost one of the two grommets inserted last year.

The second hospital visit was less routine! I was at the counter in the Wesley-Owen shop in George Street in Edinburgh trying to find some decent materials for small group studies in the Pentateuch while Norris was bumbling around investigating things. He seemed especially taken with the sale items which were mostly garish Yuletide tat, being flogged off in January to people who aren't going to risk leaving their Merry Kitchmas preparations to the last minute.

Thinking that he was safe, I searched through the various offerings from the Christian press and was bemoaning the quality of the available studies, when Norris decided to sprint across the store. I'm not sure at what point in the ageing process the body ceases to be overwhelmed with the sudden and spontaneous need to run; however at 35 I don't have it, and at 4 Norris does. His spontaneous dashes around his immediate environment are usually fairly trouble free, however today he was wearing his big brothers shoes, which were (somewhat unsurprisingly) bigger than his feet. At full speed, his feet tangled together, he tripped and fell, spectacularly splitting open his head on the corner of a bookcase.

First there was the noise. The sound of leather-on-willow is frequently attested to have mysterious joy imparting properties. The sound of skull-on-bookshelf is equally distinctive, but lacks something of the romantic allure.

Then there was a silence. Norris crashed to the floor and lay still for a second or two. The shop also went quiet as everyone turned to look, unsure how to react.

Then there was a commotion. At the same point as the adults in the room all rushed towards Norris, he sat up. And screamed! Then he stood up and screamed. And then he screamed some more, all the while clutching his head.

Then the blood started to run out between his fingers on his forehead and to run all down his face. So not unnaturally I asked the staff if they had a first-aider on the staff who would come and assist. The staff, on balance felt that rather than getting a first aider with suitable equipment it would be more productive to panic a bit. It was good to have someone to do that particular task for me, freeing me up to look after the now frightened Norris.

Then a lady (a fellow-customer) reached into her bag and brought out a few clean cloths which we put on Norris' head to stem the bleeding. It's lovely to think that if Norris achieves even minor celebrity status in years to come, these bloodied cloths will end up on ebay.

Everyone agreed that he should be taken to A&E, but I didn't know the way. So the lady with the cloths offered to drive us there. Instead of that (I didn't want a parking ticket!) we ran towards our respective cars so that I could follow her.

The shop staff stopped me to ask me to remove my hands from the cloth stopping the blood flow in order to fill out an accident report. I advised them otherwise with some emphasis.

Then we drove fast through Edinburgh, me trying to keep with her car (a non-descript Ford emblazoned with stickers advertising the Alpha course) all the way to the Sick Kids hospital. Half-way there she stopped her car, lept out, ran around the the boot and brought out from a thermos box, an ice-pack. She ran to our car with it and gave to me. Norris duly held it to his head which meant that by the time we got to the hospital most of the bleeding had stopped. Here, our new friend, showed us the way to the A&E before driving off in to the grimy Edinburgh drizzle.

In A&E a nurse cleaned out the wound. This was tricky because a lot of his hair had congealed into it, and picking this out threatened to restart bleeding. Nevertheless this was done successfully before a charming German doctor came along to glue the cut back together. Once she was done, we were left to go. A mighty relieved Dad, and a very pale looking and rather shaky little boy, headed home with a story to tell Mum!

And whoever you are shopping in Wesley-Owen in Edinburgh today with the supply of clean cloths, who showed us the way to the kids A&E in your "Alpha" stickered car. Thank you!

More Water Problems

Today has been... "eventful". We had a plumber doing a really small job in the kitchen, simply dropping some pipe runs a few inches so that they will tuck neatly behind the appliances. Straightforward enough you might think, and so it appeared for a good while after he had gone.

However, upon my return with Norris and Doris, from dropping Boris off at a birthday party, I noticed a strange trickle of water flowing out from underneath ourfront wall. Closer inspection revealed that the water was seeping from a crack in the rock upon which the wall is built. I assumed that we had gained a small spring, as two other houses along this stretch of road have. This explanation looked to be less likely as within five minutes several more had appeared, and after half and hour a small river issued from every crack in our front wall, clearly at mains pressure. This diagnosis was confirmed when it was discovered that there was no water supply connected to the house.

Well, Lord Lucan appeared quickly on the scene and shut all our water off, which after an hour or so, stemmed the flow through the garden. The plumbing firm then reappeared and reckon that the pressure being switched on and off was enough to completely sever a very old joint in the main water pipe to our house.

So tonight we are without water, and tomorrow the big dig-up of our garden begins - in what promises to be horrific weather.

Once Again

Norris Strikes Back

Four-year-old Norris had the bright idea of constructing an indoor waterfall yesterday. A delightful (and truly realistsic) interior water feature can be easily achieved, by simply blocking the plug-hole of the sink with a flannel and turning the taps on just before the family head out for an hour or so...

The picture shows our feeble attempts to speed-dry the carpet with hair-dryers and fan heaters. Happily our bathroom is on the ground floor so much of the water dissappeared under the floor, unlike my parents house and the time when my sister fell asleep in the bath and flooded the living room underneath.

Mountain Lust!

It happens every year, in the middle of dark winter days, unable to get to the hills, someone buys me a mountain book for Christmas. It's not that I am ungrateful (far from it), it's just that with no immediate prospect of an escape to the Highlands, the books make me drool. And so it happens that at the beginning of January every year I pore over OS maps and mountain guides, planning hundreds of routes all over Scotland, of which I will actually manage but a handful. It has been known for me to complete mental ascents of all the Munro's within the first month of the year from my armchair.

This year is no exception. In recent days I have completed imaginary assaults on Sgurr Na Ciche, Ben Avon, Derry Cairngorm, Sgurr Thuilm, Ben More (Mull) and An Teallach (twice).

First sight of snow.

The New Year has brought with it the first sight of snow we've had since last Easter. The hills above the town are now suitably white, and if the pattern follows previous years, the snow-line will descend all the way down to us over the next two months.

The Dust Settles...

Calm has returned to the house after a somewhat frenetic few weeks. In the last month, both sets of parents/in-laws have stayed, friends from Australia have been here, and then for a grand finale for this hospitable season we had a houseful of people for New Year.

Over the long weekend, our house bulged at the seams with six adults, seven children, 130 meals served, several pints of London pride consumed, 14 pints of milk used, a whole large sack of loo-rolls used up, several tons of logs burnt in the fire and precious few hours slept.

Altogether it was a fine way to see in the New Year, as the company, food, conversation, wit, humour and general repartee was of a low enough standard to make the whole experience thoroughly enjoyable. We count ourselves fortunate to be blessed with such an abundance of genuine eccentricity distributed so generously amongst our friends.

Happy Christmas, Monday 25th

on a cold and frosty morning...........

Book Notes: The War on Truth by Neil Mackay

College holidays are a great time for getting into reading all the books, not on the reading list, which I have been wanting to get into all term. The latest is Neil Mackay's "The War on Truth" which is an examination of the spin and deceit that paved the way for the disastrous invasion of Iraq.

This book is infuriating reading, for two reasons. Firstly the subject matter: we knew we were being lied to, we protested and campaigned against the invasion - but were led into an bloody, illegal, immoral and globally divisive conflict by New Labour lobby-fodder. To have the process of the progress to war, and the long-term neo-con planning of the event, (an about turn after their arming Saddam against Iran) explicated in detail is as painful as it is shameful. The cost in human life in an ill-fated attempt to maintain US hegemony, in order to stave off the impending energy crisis, is not merely regrettable, it is sinful.

The book has also annoyed me though, in the way that it has been written, The author (of the Sunday Herald) has read far too much Michael Moore and is desperately trying to mimic is cocky, swaggering style. He would have done far better to let the facts speak for their ghastly selves without inserting his invasive style between the argument and the reader.

However, this is a small matter indeed, in the light of the fact that the UK has thrown away its virtuous military heritage gained from the defeat of Nazi Germany which has guided us for six decades and reverted to a Palmerstonian use of our armed forces. Worse still is the fact that whereas the 'just-war' theory (based on Christian principles stretching back as least as far as Augustine) has been jettisoned in favour of the doctrine of the 'pre-emptive strike'. Under this dark guise our governments' can lead us to war against anyone that they tell us is a threat to our security. Such a war would be questionable as it would deny the potential aggressor the option of pulling back from the brink at the last minute. However more dangerous than that is that we rely on governments to tell us when our security is threatened and to order us to war. And governments lie.

While Saddam's regime is hardly a great loss to the world, a greater tragedy is that the people of places such as Darfur are left to rot, because their evil oppressors don't happen to own the world's second largest oil reserves.

A Photo for Monday

New Toy

I have a new toy to play with, a nice little web cam! It matches one we have given to my mum for her birthday so that she can chat to all her grandchildren live on line (the ultimate silver-surfing gizmo's, surely?).

The web cam has worked pretty well so far, although as the following demonstrate, it goes all berserk in a kind of Narcissus-like way too!

A Proud Dad!

Well it's been a good day or two being the father of number two son, aka "Norris". Although, as previously blogged, his last effort at appearing in a nativity play began well but descended into high farce, yesterday's public performance went really well. Not only did he sit still (!) and sing well, but there were no squabbles onstage and he wasn't overwhelmed with the irresistible urge to publicly shed his attire as previously.

What was fun was to watch him enjoying the applause and sitting down after his solo, with a grin - and then a huge sigh of relief. "Are you 'Norris' Dad?", a few people said to me at the end. A year ago when he was having hearing and behavioural problems those words would have made my heart sink with a heavy, 'what has he done now?'. It was nice that this time it was to say how well he had done.

There is a short QuickTime movie clip of him singing, available for download from another site. If friends and family want to see it, drop me an e-mail and I'll send you the URL.

Flood Gallery 4

Re: 1st picture. On balance it may not be worth risking drowning in order to clear up after your dog....

It's still raining heavily and the river is rising.

Flood Gallery 3

Bridges and flood defences getting put through their paces

Flood Gallery 2

We often go for walks on the island, on the grass through the trees! The last blurred picture is of a large round bale of straw rushing down the river. Fields up stream up the city must be really flooded if loads this size are getting washed away.

Flood Gallery 1

Not the best day they've had at the allotments!

Bob the Builder Continues

When Nativity meets Striptease

Yesterday, young Norris starred as Joseph in the nursery nativity play, the highlight of which was his lovely solo rendition of 'away in a manger.' Less pleasing to all however, was his desire to then follow his vocal performance with a striptease. The coat, the shirt, the shoes were all flung aside and he was topless and reaching for his trousers before the nursery teacher (thankfully)intervened.

In his defence he claimed that one of the wise-men had picked up some of the straw (meant to make the stage look like a stable) and put it down the neck of his Joseph costume. Scratching frantically he was tearing off his clothes in a bid to stop the itching! The shepherds then followed this up by having a fight amongst themselves!

Even better, I am told the whole sorry affair was caught on video. Coming soon to a TV near you...

More Floods

More torential rain today meant that the River Earn was once again out of its banks and flooding the fields. Driving back today from Dunning I spotted this view and captured it in honour of a notorious river engineer who posted on here last week!

Flooring and Fish

Work continues in the kitchen, the old floor being ripped up and excavated, and then the surface prepared for new tiles to be laid tomorrow. With the kitchen out of use, we're eating sandwiches in the living room and generally enjoying the chaos and disorder erupting around us. More happily I am eating out tonight at Kerrachers, an excellent fish restaurant at which you can pay lots for their fancy menu or just tuck into their £15/head set meals. Tonight it's the latter - one of the best value for money quality meals available around here. A positive note is that this is to be shared with our church housegroup, the negative is that The War Department can't come as she's working.

Exam Reprieve!

The shock news is that it now looks as if I may have passed my exam! The confusion is because I missed a term of study (spring 06) during which they introduced a new marking scheme, and what I thought was a % grade wasn't! In addition to this when the lecturer e-mailed my result to me he appended a :-( to the grade. Uuurrrggh! I can't get hold of the lecturer to check this out though.

Exam Disaster

I'm feeling very sorry for myself this morning after getting my exam result. It is by far the worst result I have ever had in higher education, (and compared to most people I have done a lot of higher ed.) I knew the exam had not gone well- but to find out that it had gone that spectacularly badly is pretty galling given the fact that I had done a lot of work and thought I was making some good progress. I don't know if I misunderstood some central element to the course or was completely illegible, either way I am sulking at home licking my wounds.

Joseph's Eye!

Norris is getting ready to appear in the Nursery nativity play tomorrow as Joseph - a role which demands a singing solo. Sadly, his preparations have been thrown into chaos as he has acquired an acute conjunctivitis, really angry, itchy and red. Fortunately "The War Department" (for it is she) has arranged to have some eye-drops prescribed and they may have sorted it out in time for Norris to tread the boards tomorrow morning.

The last nursery performance was notable for Norris leaving the stage and walking down to the front row of the audience to angrily rebuke a woman who he felt wasn't singing suitably. Let's hope tomorrow is less memorable.

Sorry!

It has been brought to my attention that when I refer to my good lady on this blog as, "the wife" she finds this offensive, disrespectful and the like. I tried pointing out that I wasn't using SWMBO (she who must be obeyed) to refer to my wife, like Simon does to his! However, her objection remains intact. Any suggestions of a better title? I suspect "The termagant" might equally be vetoed by herself.

As expected

Growing up in London I was given a mental image of Scotland as a freezing cold, windy, wet place. This morning all my expectations have been met in full.

Psycho Pete Enagaged!

Last night, wife and I went to Psycho Pete and Joan's engagement party. Here's a picture of the man himself showing the world exactly why she can't resist him.

Wolfgang's Vault

Here's a great link for anyone who likes live music, "Wolfgang''s Vault" . It has a few hundred live gigs from loads of well-known bands. If you're looking for the here-today, gone-tomorrow girl and boy bands from this week's chart - you'll be dissapointed. However the list below is what is available just under the first of many pages under the letter 'A', some interesting free (registration required) listening there! A Flock of Seagulls, ABC, Aerosmith, Alabama, Alarm, The, Allman Brothers Band, The, Altered Images, America, Anderson, John, Animals, The, April Wine, Armatrading, Joan, Ashford and Simpson, Asleep at the Wheel, Atlanta Rhythm Section, Autograph, Average White Band, The .

The Return of Bob the Builder

For ages we have had the inconvenience of a step running accross our kitchen floor, making it dangerous to have chairs/stools in the kitchen. One architect, one building warrant officer, three builders and three invoices later - work has begun to rectify this.

The wife has chosen some tiles which will be laid accross the new infill and replace the cracking tiled floor in the rest of the kitchen. These are natural slate, which look very pleasant but which require treating with some foul chemical prior to their installation. The stuff painted on, apparently makes the slate resistant to grease and fluid, which would otherwise stain it. Here's a picture of Bob the Builder's assistant making our house absolutely stink of stone treatment.

"Oy, you're falling asleep!"

I sat down with the wife this evening to watch a film. Her choice. It was called "The Lake House" and starred Keanu Reaves and Sandra Bullock. It is an hour and half of my life that I will never get back, so slow and pointless that not even Sandra Bullock's doe eyes could save it. It is the sorry offspring of "Back to the Future" crossbred with "You've got mail", the kind of entertainment that ought to be made available to insomniacs on the NHS. The highlight of the film was when the wife dug me in the ribs and said "Oy, you're falling asleep!". The cinematographical gender gap was never so wide.

I am useless at exams!

Yes, I am reeling from an exam in which I didn't perform well! Although the paper was fair enough, and in line both with the content of the course and previous papers I wasn't well enough prepared (mostly due to "circumstances beyond my control"). I felt that although I knew a fair amount about the subject, and had done sufficient reading, I couldn't adequately organise my thoughts which seemed to come tumbling out onto the paper without much clarity. Hopefully my answers will be enough to avoid the dread of a resit, and my answers sufficiently legible too.

I haven't written a full-length exam for about nine years! I remember when I did my first degree, no kids, no house, no responsibilities and day after day available for concentrated study. Not anymore, with a wife and three children, grabbing odd minutes here and there to study are all I can manage - and what I am able to achieve suffers likewise.

On a more positive note I can add that the Christology module at ICC is excellent; really probing, insightful and challenging. Not only does it cover all the debates surrounding the formulations of the Nicean Creed and Chalcedonian definition, but engages critically with this tradition and its strengths and limitations as a useful and faithful contextual understanding of Jesus.