Caption?

I can't think of a caption to do justice to this photo.... can you help?

Shoes

"Shoes"

(S.J. Wolstenholme)

These are the shoes

of those whose lives all ended here.

These are the clothes they wore,

when death descended here.

No glory, no story

to be appended here.

-And after all, they're only shoes.

These are the bones

of those who are unknown to me.

Here nothing shows

of what they might have grown to be.

No monument, no sentiment

marks their eternity.

-And after all, they're only bones.

The ways of man

are studied with brutality.

Hold, whilst we can,

what's left of our humanity.

Forgiving, forgetting

Should be the way to be.

-But after all, we're only men.

I am currently listening to a (very strange) CD, the new release from Woolly Wolstenholme's Maestoso, curiously entitled "Caterwauling". The sound and lyrics to the song "Shoes" are a particularly moving part of the album. Although the lyrics are dominated by themes such as war, death, and divorce - it's not all light-hearted fun.. there's also plenty of staring into the abyss of mental illness, as Wolstenhome endured it several years ago. Musically the album uses rock, folk and classical formats to deliver its complex and sometimes demanding songwriting. The recording is rough in places and Wolstenholme can presumably only dream of having access to the recording budgets he once knew as a member of Barclay James Harvest in the 1970s. This is probably the strangest album I have bought in years, yet one on which I hear new things with each play, and which has kept me admirable company while stripping wallpaper over the last few evenings!

Out with the old...

One very old, cumbersome, almost-condemned, and inefficient boiler out!

And one small, efficient, new one in!

It's taking a good few days for the work to be done and in the meantime, we are getting rather chilly. The job of getting up early and lighting the fire has, naturally, fallen to me. Of course, a generation ago this was all part of the everyday routine.

Ooops

What was intended to be a nice, clean, hot fire turned into a ghastly smog. I think the wood must have been treated with something!

Boris Motson?

We all sat together and watched Scotland's heroic failure to qualify for the European football finals. Such was the importance of the match that my football-mad son, Boris (8) was allowed to buy a months subscrption to SKY sports in order to see it.

Apparently the consensus is that young Boris has a future as a football pundit! Lins was there that afternoon, and his entertaining description of what it's like to watch the footie with 'that hideous family' can be found here.

Nothing but a sad groupie.. (Infamy at Last!)

Last year I went to the JLBJH gig in Edinburgh and blogged enthusiastically about what a wonderful evening it was. This week I have been enjoying the DVD of that tour which has just been released. Once Again, John Lees was joined in the band by founder member Woolly Wolstenholme, whose mastery of the Mellotron and love of gorgeously pretensious classical arrangements forged the original BJH sound. Sensibly JLBJH pack their set-list with songs from the bands epic era 68-79, when their English pastoral sound was to the fore and before the rot of the 1980s bland-pop took hold.

Although the set filmed was in London, there is plenty of footage of the Edinburgh gig, including a few seconds of my hideous self, chatting to Mr Wolstenholme after the gig. My wife says that I am a sad groupie! I like to think that I have at last began to embrace the infamy I deserve.

Eurostar

Several million quid later, Paris is 20 minutes closer to London than it was before yesterday. Fullers brewery seemed to hit the right note in their timely celebration of the great news. A fine pint too.

Fire!

We enjoyed a fine evening on the Lucan estate, the highlight of which, for Boris, Norris, That Hideous Sister and myself at least, was the bonfire. All the scrappy brushwood left over from the log-cutting and splitting was piled up with the roots, and duly lit!

At one point a huge root came rolling out from the fire. It had been on the top - and all its's supporting branches had burnt away underneath it and it came flaming and rolling from the bonfire! This picture below shows his Lordship in the digger lifting it back on.

The Marriage Course

Many years ago, we went to a CARE marriage event held at our church, designed to help couples grow in their relationship. It would be a gross exaggeration to say that it 'saved our marriage', it didn't as I am confident that we would still be here if it hadn't been. It did, however, mark a significant turning point and a milestone in our marriage as some of the relational skills we gained that day were the answer to some of our tension-causing blind spots.

And here is a tragic irony. We left our kids that day with a good friend who agreed to babysit so that we could go to the marriage event. As we dropped the kids off she told us that she was in more need of the course than us. Several years later her marriage ended.

We developed a growing conviction that as a church our effort was wasted when we only pronounced about the importance of marriage; and better spent actually supporting marriages! So we began to think and pray about how we might do that, when we came across "The Marriage Course". We did the course ourselves with some friends, and found it really helpful, on an emotional, practical and spiritual level. It contains all the things that we found so useful on that CARE course so many years ago, and loads more in depth stuff. So we asked the church leadership if they would like us to run it in the church - to which they agreed, and so we went down to London to the leaders training conference.

So six years after this process began, we have just completed hosting our first course and had the chance to review what we learnt the first time round.

Hosting the course was a tiring labour of love. It was great to have our place full of people every week, chatting laughing, eating, drinking, watching, talking and maybe praying. Thursday nights will seem very dull now that the course has finished!

Reviewing the course ourselves was hugely encouraging! On a marriage-course evening, although we watch the video together (which contains talks on subjects such as 'communication' of 'conflict resolution' etc) couples work through exercises together on the topic in complete privacy. So we reviewed what we had written in our course manuals a year ago, and were amazed at what a profound difference the course had made to us in a year!

There are I think five myths about The Marriage Course that we need to overcome in order to see it more successfully used in the church:

1) That it is for couples whose marriages are in difficulty. When we said that we were doing the marriage course, a common reaction was an uncomfortable look followed by, "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that you're having problems". One professional marriage counsellor wrote to the people that run the marriage course saying to them that the course contains everything that a couple needed to know, five years before they end up coming for crisis marriage counselling! This is not primarily a marriage-rescue course, but a course designed for people who want to see their marriages thrive and grow. Research demonstrates that a generation ago how marriages fared was based largely upon how well the spouses fulfilled prescribed social roles. Now however, in a society in flux, the relational skills with which to manage change are a key element. The course is really for any married couple.

2) That it is a marriage-preparation course. No, it's not that either! The Marriage Course is designed for couples who are already married. There is a separate marriage-prep course that exists.

3) It is mostly for newly-weds. On the course we have just finished the youngest folk had been married a year, and the oldest almost four decades! We've met people who have done it in their retirement and really enjoyed it too.

4) That it is only for committed Christians. There is a Christian content to the course, and it is based upon underlying Christian principles and assumptions, however many non-Christian people have done the course and benefited from it. For instance there is a section on praying-together, but before couples split up for that part of the evening the introduction says, "but if for any reason you are not comfortable with that...... " and gives an alternative.

5) That there is group discussion and that you are compelled or invited to tell anyone else anything about your own marriage. This is absolutely not the case, but probably the hardest thing to convince people of! For some reason, people picture the marriage course as a group discussion-event in which there is an open-forum for airing your problems or triumphs in front of others; or worse still other people wanting to discuss their sex-lives in front of you! There is no group discussion, there is total privacy at all times, and there is neither the compulsion nor even the invitation to tell anyone else, anything at all! This is very hard to convince people of though!

Well, it looks as though we'll be running it again next year. However first of all we need to review what we have done, how we could improve it. One thing that has been great so far has been that when we said we were going to run it, some couples offered to help us with the logistics and prayer-support (without us even asking) and someone else has now offered to help us with the cooking next time!

The course seems to us intrinsically worthwhile. That it fills our house with all kinds of wonderful people, takes us a step closer to the sense of community that we aspire to, and the support we get from the church-fellowship, does the same. For us two, the fact that we work on it together as a couple as a joint project is in itself a new and much welcome part of our worship of God.

Other comment here.

It's getting really cold out

It's nice and warm in here though, although I've noticed the chairs have begun their annual migration to the fireside.

Pus-finger!

"Pus-finger... he's the man with the septic touch!"

Poor Norris, his thumb has ballooned with an infection which is painful, pus-ridden and has kept him (and thus us) awake for much of the night. It burst in the bath shortly after this photo was taken, spilling a quite extraordinary amount of stinking pus into the water. The antibiotics he's had seem to be calming the rest of it down now. He'll be glad when its healed up, not just because of the physical discomfort, but because he'll be spared other members of the family doing their Shirley-Bassey Bond-theme re-hash while waving their fingers about!

The Tay

Remember, remember, the 5th of November

Gunpowder, treason and plot

Happiness is a warm... axe

We spent a splendid afternoon on the Lucan estate on Saturday. They have brought down a dodgy tree and so while Lord Lucan worked away with the chain-saw, I swung the axe. Boris and Norris then joined in the fun of throwing all the split logs into the dumper truck ready for stacking. Best of all - they got a ride in the dumper!

More on idols....

Colin over at "Unashamed Workman" has posted recently on the subject of idolatry. He has included a link to a particularly interesting article on Christians and idolatry by C.J. Mahaney entitled, "The Idol Factory".

Rev. Derek O. Swann

I have just heard the news that Mr Swann, who was my minister for eighteen years, has died in Cardiff, after a long illness. Our thoughts and prayers are with his wife and family today.

Mr Swann had a sharp mind and a warm heart, two characteristics which were vital in his long ministry. What won him huge respect from so many people was his in-depth and thorough bible-teaching, for which people would travel many miles. As a contributor to reference works such as the Illustrated Bible Dictionary, and a book reviewer for publishers such as IVP, Mr Swann was no mean Bible-scholar whose rigorous grappling with the texts, and languages meant that hearing him preach was always an enriching learning experience. What he presented though was not mere dry, austere academic orthodoxy, (orthodox though it was!) but heartfelt, and heartwarming preaching of Christ, forged as much on his knees in prayer, as it was in study at his desk.

Fewer people will remember what a great pastor he was to children. His children's talks in church were way ahead of their time in the 1970s, innovative, interactive, visual and memorable. That is not to say they were ever flippant - far from it - in fact they could be very sobering. Several stand out in my mind very clearly even to this day. As the children left the church part-way through the service we all filed past the big pulpit and lots of the little ones would wave up at him as we went past the foot of the steps, and he would beam back at us! In a not unconnected vein he once taught us to begin our prayers, "Dear, kind, heavenly-Father".

In my teenage years, Mr Swann was willing to spend time with me - not just talking to me and engaging with problems and ideas - but also listening to me, despite the fact that much of what came out must have sounded like self-obsessed teenage rambling! He was also known for his faithful visiting in the town, calling in and spending time with the elderly, the sick and the suffering (distributing Lucozade, driving very fast, and being accompanied by a mad little dog!).

Mr Swann not only married my parents in 1967, and baptised me in 1971, but with his immense learning, wisdom and integrity has had a huge influence on my life. I thank God for him.

Accountancy

This is posted here in honour of the person who once posted on this blog as "that hideous sister", who has brought shame and dishonour on our whole family by becoming an accountant.

The Curse of Stumpy Greenisland

When Dr Stumpy Greenisland e-mailed me earlier this week to merrily wish me a "pox on my house" I laughed at his genial good humour.

When however a pox did in fact subsequently strike the household, (Doris, chicken) I was a little taken aback by the veracity of the good Dr's words!

"Unspoiled by Feminism"

OK - so that title got your attention!

Vlad, (a regular reader, but never commenter on this blog) has sent me a really scary leaflet, which he was handed on the streets of Dundee recently. The Dundee based organisation, "Hand-in-hand" offers to import wives for lonely single Scotsmen from the Czech republic. Not only is the customer offered the chance to select age, height, hair and eye colour and build but the front-page blurb actually says the following:

Our programs are designed for single men looking for a true life partner, who is beautiful (10 to 20 years younger), intelligent and educated, is unspoiled by feminism and whose culture is one of support and respect for their husband".

So is this the practical solution to a practical problem; poor women seeking residence in a richer nation, and lonely men finding love? Or is it a scandalous trading in people as if they were commodities, and as outrageous as the Albanian people-trafficking that Endlessly Restless has been blogging about today?

I think the latter. Immanuel Kant famously interpreted the command of Christ (the golden rule) to "do to others as you would have them do to you" as, "you may only treat people as 'ends' never as simply 'means'". The thought that just as businesses can re-locate to Eastern Europe in order to pay lower wages, and be faced with lower health and safety, pension or NI costs, might be transferred to the field of romance and marriage is appalling. The suggestion that a woman might have to assume a subservient role, in order to get here is shocking. The suggestion that 'respect ' can be purchased any more than 'true love' is deceptive. The Christian debate between Complimentarians and Egalitarians is well documented, but both sides of that fierce debate would condemn this trade in souls.

I can't believe that this is being promoted so close to home.

As for Vlad himself, he says he is not going to pursue a wife this way, thankfully. He rightly points out that they sound a bit insipid and that a proper row with a feisty Scots lass is a far more appealing proposition. I might add that the Irish shouldn't be excluded from the search criteria either!

Celebrate Surgery

Eleven of Perth's most singular characters assembled at the Nurjahan the other night for what can only be described as the least plausible excuse for a night out I have ever come across. Nevertheless, the Solihill 5 even travelled North so that one of their number could attend! The Nurjahan is probably Perth's finest Indian restaurant, at least we reckon so, John agrees (and he was born there) and so does Jones the Chemist. He should also know, because his wife is Indian and they have assessed all Perth's restaurants and give this one the best score. In fact her only complaint about the Nurjahan is that it is not "Indian" at all - but is staffed by Bangladeshi's who cook Bangladeshi food!

On leaving the restaurant I remarked on the fact that the evening had been noteworthy for its staggeringly unusual cast of characters present. Percy Cowpat retorted that what could I expect, given the fact that the only thing they had in common was that they are friends with me! Seldom can a common denominator have been quite so low!

(cick on the image to enlarge)

The Temptations of Consumerism

1. To believe that the appearance of affluence is the central organising principle of life.

2. To believe that being compulsively busy even to the point of exhaustion is a sign of healthy and productive living.

3. To believe that having a successful career is more important than being a good parent,a good spouse, a good neighbour, a kind and loving person, or taking a walk in the woods.


4. To believe that good work is reducible to making money and unpaid work, particularly in the home; is not really working.

5. To believe that the appropriate goal in life is to enjoy prosperity in a stylish home with a perfectly manicured lawn.

6. To believe that depression can / should be cured by shopping.

7. To believe that the most important thing in life is to have your needs met.

8. To believe that we are all on our own, because there is no grace, no ultimate mercy within the depths of things and our task is to look out for number one.

Our church is doing a series on idolatry at the moment. In biblical times the temptation to 'build gods of wood and stone' etc was literal - while the contemporary idols which get worshipped are more subtle. This week's idol to be unmasked was 'consumerism'. Thanks to our minister Charles, for bringing some of Jay B. McDaniel's analysis to our attention.

Going, going, going, gone...

While the brick-extension at the southern end of the old hillside hospital was a bit gim-looking, it seems such a shame that no use could be found for the charming stone-built original hospital at the northern end of the site.

Smash and Grab!

The last few moment's of Perth's old hospital, being cleared for sheltered accommodation and luxury flats. The design for the new building has everything that one would expect from contemporary development, it is too big for the site, incongruous in context, managed to flaunt planning guidelines because of a healthy bung given to the council (er, sorry "planning gain" not bung), and all residents objections were ignored.

The Sight of Sleat

Sgurr na Ciche, high in the Rough Bounds of Knoydart looks majestic across the Sound of Sleat, from Skye's southernmost peninsula. Then, this morning before we left for home, the West Coast treated us to a breathtaking sunrise, which changed in shapes, colours, lights, patterns and contrasts. We were speechless before it.

It reminds me of Psalm 19, which starts:

The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they display knowledge.

The creative intent was that the world should be a canvas on which the glory of God would be displayed.

Lord, spare me from the idolatry of merely glorying in the created - and not lifting my gaze higher, to worship you.

The Sight of the Sound of Sleat

Moorings at Ardvasar

Mallaig by Night, from Sleat

Skye View

Glen Brittle, where the majestic Cuillin climb from the valley floor to grasp at the sky.

Lovely Elgol, whose harbour and stony beach afford fine views of the end of the Cuillin ridge, and where the foot-ferry for Loch Coruisk departs.

The evening sun reflects on the bogs by the path up to the Old man of Storr.

The last sailing of the day. The little Cal-Mac ferry plies its way back and forth across the Sound of Sleat eight times a day. I spent a long afternoon sitting reading on a bench overlooking the sea, while the ferry's progress divided the day into measured segments, and the sun slowly set on the distant Knoydart peaks beyond.

What do these have in common?

The answer is simply that the Otter, Seal, Fishing Industry, and Railway, were all drawn here to Mallaig because of fish, and have subsequently been under threat.

Rowan Williams Speaks Out

On the eve of the fateful day on which the House of Commons were cajoled into committing British troops to the disastrous invasion of Iraq - on the basis of spurious claims in the infamous "sexed-up dodgy dossier", Archbishop Rowan Williams made a brilliant speech. In his lecture he drew on long historical analysis to demonstrate the disasters that have occurred even when "well-meaning" people commit to war with the best of intentions. His warning to Blair and Brown that this was not another Kosovo in which military action was overdue and would lead to personal glory was well made. The problem was that his speech was academic, his analysis rigorous, and his appeal winsome not aggressive. He has since gone on record as saying that his deepest regret is not more forcibly declaring his opposition to the invasion of Iraq.

This appears to be something which he is not going to repeat, judging by the comments he has made today, directed at hawks within the Bush administration whose sabres are rattling towards Damascus and Tehran. He said, "We do hear talk from some quarters of action against Syria, or against Iran", any such action, he said, would be "criminal, ignorant...and potentially murderous folly".

May these prophetic words be heard loudly and clearly.

Talk more, watch less

In the Spring, Panorama ran a documentary which demonstrated the improvement in behaviour children exhibit when their exposure to television is reduced. It was quite scary, and it made us take a look at how much time Boris, Norris and Doris were spending each day watching the thing. It was too much - and we've cut down, and we reckon that it has led to a certain calming amongst out more exuberant offspring!

Recently when I exercised the parental prerogative and reached for the 'off' button (the "it's not fair" button) the kids claimed that they were now 'bored'. This of course indicates the extent to which the wretched tube, sucks their creative spirit, and will result in more extensive use of the off-button, not less.

What followed was brilliant though! Boris and Norris had overheard an edition of Radio 4s "I'm sorry I haven't a clue" and Boris was especially taken with the word-game they play in which they construct a sentence, each player submitting a single word and trying not to be the one to end it.

This lead to uproarious laughter as the sentences got more and more surreal. We ended with, "Once upon a spring there was a large potato which has nothing to do with spoons!". With this, both boys up-ended themselves with laughter, rolling with fits of uncontrollable giggles which made their sides hurt. The rest of the game was abandoned in the ensuing chaos.

When was the last time that watching TV was that much fun?

Reading

Not been blogging of much late, and not simply due to post-operative discomfort and sympathy- seeking either. In fact this week I have been reading more than writing, which I suppose could be the bloggers equivalent of the biblical maxim to be 'quick to listen and slow to speak'.

Here's a few thngs that have caught my eye recently:

Total Abandon the story of a contemporary martyr over at Unashamed Workman.

Dominic Smart's address at the 'Preach the Word' conference last week.

Reformed Theological Seminary in the States has made a huge number of their course lectures available free on iTunes. I have gone through the four-part series on the theology of Karl Barth, which is a useful introduction to his thought from his reaction to 19thC liberalism, his conflict with the Nazis, and his development of Neo-orthodox existential dialectical theology.

Endlessly Restless over at his blog "Of Dreams and Visions" has been running a series of contemporary reflections on a biography of Luther.

While Adrian has had a few posts on the spirituality of John Owen

The Scary Internet

If you need any further proof that the Internet is a scary place, read on. I have just noticed that the hits-counter on this little blog has gone through the roof. An alarming number of people have been here over the last few days. In order to discover the reason for this sudden, unexpected and undeserved popularity, I have checked to see when the sudden deluge of visitors began.

It seems to coincide almost exactly with the appearance of a post here entitled 'gonads'. Obviously a key word for the search engines............ scary.

Gonads!

I am not asking for your sympathy, merely offering you the chance to quietly laugh at me as you see me moving cautiously, doing the John-Wayne-waddle. My long-anticipated trip to the day-surgery unit has finally been completed and I have the scars to prove it!

For ten years I have sired far too many children, with quite alarming regularity. Now however, the breeding is over, the big-V, the decommissioning of the gonads is complete, and all weapons of mass reproduction have been put finally and verifiably beyond use.

Now clearly I am feeling sorry for myself, and believe that I am paying a high price! This is however not a view shared by my wife, who points out that bearing all our kids was, on balance, a little worse. So if you see me, hobbling about, with a sheepish-grin, feel free to laugh, mock and point out that it's all self inflicted. Of course when you have a 'surprise addition to the family' when you are 50 years old, it will no doubt be equally hilarious!

Long Live the 1970s

Once, probably in the early 1990s, whem my hair was at its most, er ... voluminous, I went to the barbers to get a trim. As I walked in the door of Warman's in Ashford Middx, Alan (the proprietor) pointed at me and exclaimed, "Look everyone, it's 1974!".

I am slightly more proud of that moment than is perhaps entirely appropriate.

However I am a child of the 70s, so here is a small tribute to that most hairy, flared, and flowery decade -when so much weird and wonderful music was made - and millions of rolls of wallpaper were made with gigantic swirling patterns!

New Coffee Heroes

"The Coffee Exchange" in Dundee is well worth a vist if you are ever in that neck of the woods. They really know how to look after their coffee, and they make the best espresso I have tasted since the much lamented 'Bean Good" cafe in Perth closed eighteen months ago.

Add to this, the fact that the food isn't bad at all, all the coffee is all Fairtrade, the people in the place are really friendly, and it was set up to make money for health and education projects in the developing world; it makes it the place to head for when in Dundee!

http://www.coffeeexchange.org.uk/

Taking some time at Salisbury Cathedral

The thanksgiving service for my uncle was held at Melbury Abbas, a quiet country parish church just outside Shaftesbury. Getting there meant the night sleeper down to London, and then the train to Salisbury where my sister would pick me up in her car. With two hours to spare in Salisbury, and conscious of the fact that my Uncle's immediate family were saying their farewells to him at the nearby crematorium, I headed to the Cathedral. My hope was that I would find somewhere quiet and calm in which to think, remember, and pray.

Salisbury Cathedral is a lovely old building, famous for its huge spire, which towers over the city. I took a few photos and then found a quiet place. Here I was able to both remember happy times spent with with my uncle and his family, and also to pray for them in their grief.

I was calmly sitting in a Cathedral seat when I was interrupted by a member of staff clearing away the chairs. Row-by-row he crashed them onto a trolley and wheeled them away, and it soon became obvious that the chairs I was sitting on where going to disappear next. So I gathered both my thoughts and my possessions and went off for a coffee.

I am not criticising the cathedral or its staff. They run a working church with an important programme to maintain. What I am wondering though is this. Do the church services I am involved in offering afford sufficient time to think, pray, meditate, contemplate or grieve? Or does a programme (however good) sometimes crowd this out? I hope that the extension we are trying to add to our church facilities (though not making it Salisbury Cathedral) will create some space for this, without interfering the valuable programme of events, worship, teaching, children's work etc - that we offer.

When in the seat in the Cathedral I noticed that most of the chairs had little brass plaques on them. The one above was the one right in front of where I sat. It gives four short facts about a man about whom I will know nothing else. I thought about life and death, the shortness of the first, the inevitability of the second, and my soul was stirred. Pressing in on my consciousness was the rugged truth of the old cliche about 'life not being merely a dress rehearsal'. This was compounded by a sense that life ultimately comes from God, and that I am answerable finally to Him for the choices I make within it.

A Time for Everything : (Ecclesiastes Chapter Three)

1 There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under heaven:

2 a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

9 What does the worker gain from his toil? 10 I have seen the burden God has laid on men. 11 He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. 12 I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. 13 That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil—this is the gift of God. 14 I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him.

15 Whatever is has already been,

and what will be has been before;

and God will call the past to account. [a]
16 And I saw something else under the sun:

In the place of judgment—wickedness was there,

in the place of justice—wickedness was there.
17 I thought in my heart,

"God will bring to judgment

both the righteous and the wicked,

for there will be a time for every activity,

a time for every deed."

18 I also thought, "As for men, God tests them so that they may see that they are like the animals. 19 Man's fate is like that of the animals; the same fate awaits them both: As one dies, so dies the other. All have the same breath [b] ; man has no advantage over the animal. Everything is meaningless. 20 All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return. 21 Who knows if the spirit of man rises upward and if the spirit of the animal [c] goes down into the earth?"

22 So I saw that there is nothing better for a man than to enjoy his work, because that is his lot. For who can bring him to see what will happen after him?

Nostalgia - as good as ever...

These are "the garages" - the place where as a child I played for hours and hours, days and weeks. During the winter, this uninspiring patch of suburban tarmac was Wembley, Anfield, Old Trafford or Highbury; as me, the neighbours kids and pals from school, fought out our heartfelt battles for imaginary sporting glory. All summer long it became Lords, The Oval or Headingley, with makeshift stumps at each end. I can still remember the nervous anticipation of watching the school opening bowler Kevin Brooke sprinting in to bowl at full speed, and the ecstasy of driving the ball back past him to the fence, or the agony of hearing my stumps being demolished behind me. This drab arena was once the setting for some epic sporting dramas, diving headers, goalies saves, cut-shots through the fence and many a bookable 'undue celebration'. Play was usually only punctuated with trips to collect balls from neighbours gardens, and we knew well which ones would cheerfully throw them back and which would interogate and intimidate.

This might well be the dullest photo on the internet; but as I look at it, I can hear the 'boom' of the ball crashing into the aluminium garage doors, the feel of the bat in my hand, the pleading 'howzat' of a young bowler to an imaginary umpire, and feel the tension of sudden-death penalty shoot-outs and the grazing of countless knees on tarmac.

Out and about, camera in hand!

People who have had the privilege of living in a beautiful place all their lives sometimes seem to take it all for granted and simply fail to stop and let their jaws drop in suitable appreciation for the beauty all around them. The best thing about growing up in suburban London is that it singularly denied me the opportunity of becoming glib and dismissive about natural beauty!

We all went for a walk up Kinnoull Hill, this is a small walk for Boris and Norris, but still quite a challenge for little Doris, who fell asleep before making the summit. I managed to carry her to the top, and it didn't prevent me from taking a couple of shots of the hill's classic view. Above the folly that is perched high on the cliffs above the Friarton bridge, which some historic eccentric thought made the Tay look like the Rhine! Then below, the view from somewhat Narnian ' stone table' looking eastwards, down the Tay, accross the Carse of Gowrie.

The highest point of Kinnoull Hill has had some of its fine views restored by the felling of some of the larger trees. St John's kirk in the town centre is now visible once again from the hill-top. By the time we got here though the light was getting a bit grimy. Swinging the camera Northwards captures a hazy view of the Tay, the back of Muirton on the left and the grounds of Scone Palace on the right.

Book Notes: Building a Better Body by Simon Jones

I have just finished reading this book - which has been on the go for quite some time now. It is a fascinating and provocative look at the whole way we go about viewing the church and being the church, written by someone who is a "critical insider"!

This book makes a great companion volume to Stott's "Living Church" in as much as they approach the same subject matter in radically different, yet mutually enriching ways. Stott's concern is to grapple with the biblical texts and to seek to build our contemporary authenticity by conformity to their patterns. Jones, on the other hand, wants to engage with not just theological ideas, but also with real people - folks who have struggled with church, have left the church, been hurt by the church or who long for the church to wake up and fulfill its potential. It is his interaction with all these elements which causes him to ask far-reaching questions about how fit-for-purpose our traditional models of church-life are for the realities of contemporary life.

If like me you are thinking through the issues of church, read Stott and gain a real understanding of what we should be about; then read Jones and engage with the difficulties of achieving it.