Life is full of little mysteries

Yes, I know I've been a little bit lazy with the blog of late. It's so easy to get out of the routine/habit, and when you stop blogging, for whatever reason, it's not long before the blank screen starts to intimidate you and you just can't think what on earth to write about.
Part of my problem is that I started out this blog determined to use photographs I had taken myself as a starting point for some 'random reflections' but recently my camera hasn't seen the light of day except at weddings I have recently conducted. (I usually take a picture of the happy couple for our church magazine.) Although there have been quite a few weddings lately, I don't this is the place for wedding photographs.
As a little aside, however, I was amused (even a bit flattered) when the manager of one of our more popular local wedding venues offered me a job as a 'toastmaster'!
Needless to say it was an offer I could not accept. [For one thing I already miss too many Motherwell home games with weddings on Saturdays. And, perhaps much more importantly, I don't think I'm allowed to take on a second job... of any kind... even if I had the time.)
Anyway, back to the point- you may be wondering what on earth this particular picture is about.
If you are... that's good.
For that is precisely why I have put it here.
I thought it was time for another mystery picture.
Only this one is probably a slightly easier one to guess than the last one.
Talking of Motherwell home games, at long last today we got a home win. Not a particularly convincing one but a welcome one all the same, especially as the home leg of our UEFA cup tie is on Thursday night.
The winning goal today was scored, rather unexpectedly, by the midfielder Bob Malcolm. It would be good to think of it as a sweet first-time volley but in reality the ball just kind of bounced off his thigh and trundled over the line. The first reaction of most of the supporters around me this afternoon was to burst out laughing! although celebrations did follow when we realised that the unthinkable had actually happened.
Life is full of surprises and little mysteries is it not?
Tomorrow, however, I will be attempting to reflect on the truly unfathomable mystery of the Trinity - just the thing for a holiday weekend, don't you think?

The Law of Unintended Consequences

Yesterday I was in Dundee representing Lanark Presbytery at the Church of Scotland's Church & Society Council Conference. It meant I was unable to watch my team (Motherwell FC) being thrashed 4 -2 by Celtic. Maybe I didn't miss much there.
But even apart from that I was glad that I did get the opportunity to take part in that particular conference, especially because the keynote speaker was Dr. Denis Alexander, a distinguished biochemist and Director of the Faraday Institute for Science and Religion at St. Edmund's College, Cambridge. His presentation, entitled 'Transcending Dawkins' God: renewing the positive interface between science and faith,' was informative, intelligent, interesting and inspiring.
I was delighted to get the chance to have a substantial conversation with him afterwards. Later, I also couldn't resist buying a couple of his books. (All I need now is some time to read them.)
There's no way I could summarise in a couple of paragraphs here Dr. Alexander's carefully argued and convincing presentation which showed there is no necessary conflict between science and faith but I can't resist sharing one little anecdote from his talk concerning Richard Dawkins' book "The God Delusion."
Apparently one of the scientists who is on Dr. Alexander's team in his Cambridge Lab was a confirmed atheist ... until, as a result of reading Dawkins' book, the atheistic scientist was converted to the Christian faith!
Now don't tell me God doesn't have a sense of humour!

Social Networking

The world's largest particle physics laboratory, CERN, has been in the news lately and by now most people will probably know that it was here in 1989 that the Internet or World Wide Web first came into existence. A neat irony that! In order to break up atoms, it was necessary to bring scientific minds together by inventing a brand new means of communication.
I don't suppose Tim Berners-Lee and the others who first set up the original 'internet' ever dreamt that it would become the sprawling giant that it now is.
There have, of course, been some downsides to the whole project because any tool that human beings create can be used to harm as well as to help but overall it has been an amazing force for transcending borders and boundaries and opening up the field of knowledge to people all over the world.
And, what's more, it has been very useful for enabling people to keep in touch with one another all around the world, or even to help create new relationships altogether.

In the last few days, I've had a couple of interesting personal examples of this.

First of all, through Facebook, I received a message from a young man who had once been in our youth fellowship in Duntocher, over 20 years ago. Inevitably we had lost touch and I had no idea where he was or what he was doing.
Now, thanks to the internet, he has got in touch with me and I discover he (and his family) are in Canada and involved in a Presbyterian Church there.
What moved me most, however, was the little postscript he added at the end of his email:
"PS. You'll never know just how close I came to chucking in the shipyard for the cloth! You inspired us all!"

And then, just today, I received an email from Australia with the subject-heading "Do I know you."
Apparently the sender had (through Google) randomly stumbled upon this blog and my name rang a bell.
So he wrote:
"Are you possibly the Iain Cunningham I knew in the late 60's, early 70's from East Kilbride who attended Hamilton Acadmey at the same time as I did. The comments and tone of the entries on the blog are very reminiscent of the young lad I remember although the photo does him no justice at all."
What did he mean?? I haven't changed a bit! ...Have I?
To both Dougie and Wullie I'd like to say - if you are still reading this blog - thanks for getting in touch!
And to Tim Berners-Lee (and everyone at CERN) - thanks for making it possible!

The Black Hole

Well the LHC at CERN (don't you love acronyms!!) has been switched on... and so far, so good...
We have not all disappeared down a black hole... yet... though some pessimists believe it is still a real possibility.
However, if anyone is interested... I KNOW what happens when you disappear into a black hole.
(So does anyone else who has ever been inside my study! )
And, although it may seem to flout the laws of physics and everything else, I can report that from time to time it is possible to get back out of it and into the real world again. I do it all the time.
In the international footballing scene Scotland seemed to dig themselves into a bit of a black hole in Macedonia but tonight they dug themselves back out of it with a gritty 2 -1 victory over Iceland. (I think that might be a local supermarket team, but I'm not sure.) Even here, though, they peered over the edge of the "event horizon" when the team captain got sent off and they had to hang on desperately for the last ten minutes or so.
If you have no idea what I'm talking about just now, you either haven't been watching the news or you couldn't care less about football, or both.
By the way, I'm sorry I wasn't able to upload a picture to go with this post. I tried to take some photographs of black holes but I couldn't get them in focus. :-)

A recovering chaplain

I've just spent a very interesting/exhausting 5 days or so in St. Andrews. Unfortunately, it didn't involve any golf, or walking on the beach, or relaxing in seaside cafes or restaurants. It did, however, involve some serious over-eating!
I was at St. Andrews University, serving as chaplain to a conference run by the Church of Scotland Ministries Council for candidates for the ministry.
And a very interesting bunch of folk they are too!
Of course, as chaplain I have to observe strict confidentiality so I can't tell you all the different things that made this group (of about 90 people) so interesting. :-)
Seriously, though, it was quite encouraging to know that there are still men and women with great skills, talents and abilities willing to accept the call to ministry.
It's a long time ago now but when I think back to the days when I was training for the ministry I regret that we never had anything like these conferences (or many of the other things that are now in place for students) to help prepare us for the task. We (more or less) had to jump in at the deep end and hope that we could very quickly learn to swim.
And, not surprisingly, many didn't, and went under within the first five years of ministry.
I was delighted to learn just the other day while at the conference that there are now virtually no ministers dropping out during the first five years of ministry.
That can only be a good thing for everyone concerned.
Anyway, I know I said that I was sworn to secrecy... but without naming any names I can reveal that somewhere down the line some congregation somewhere is going to call a minister with the extraordinary (and totally useless) talent of convincingly impersonating a velociraptor.

Sheep may safely graze

We have not seen very much sunshine in this part of the world this "summer."
However, most of the many weddings I have conducted since June have been blessed with good weather. One evening in early July, I was heading home from one of those weddings through a lovely part of rural South Lanarkshire (near Quothquan) and I couldn't resist stopping at this point to take a photograph of these peaceful fields. There were plenty of clouds in the sky but just enough breaks in them to allow the evening sunshine to light up the rolling hills and fields. The sheep lazily grazing away just added to the sense of tranquillity. I could have driven past in a hurry because (as always) there were many things still to do that evening but how much more satisfying to stop the car, get out and then just stare...
Reminds me of the poem by W.H. Davies.

Leisure

WHAT is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—

No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Gie us peace!

I came across this interesting stone in the churchyard of St. Dieniol's Church, next door to the library.

When I first saw it I actually mis-read it as "The Place of God."

It seemed to me to be a fairly accurate summary of what many people nowadays think and feel. God's place is consigned to the graveyard!

It can be true in two different senses: firstly in the sense that the only time some people think about God at all is when they are confronted by the end of their own life or the life of someone they care about, and secondly (and perhaps even more common) is the notion that God himself is dead and faith in God is nothing but a foolish delusion.

Many people are happy therefore to wish that God will "Rest in Peace" and that those who still go on talking about God will give it a rest. ("Gie us peace!" being their watchword.)

I think for me part of the problem lies in the way that the words "peace" and "quiet" have become associated with each other.

We need a much more robust and lively understanding of what peace is.

It is not just the absence of war, or conflict, or even of hassle.

It is not just about having some space or time out of the busyness of living.

In other words, it is not the peace of the graveyard.

I much prefer the Biblical/Hebrew concept of "shalom" which (brilliantly) can be used as a noun, as a verb or as an adjective as well as being the means of saying 'hello' or goodbye.' Peace is something you do, as well as something you can have and a quality that can permeate anything.

This is a positive, muscular, heavy-duty kind of peace that is life-affirming and life-enhancing. It is about things not being broken or wounded or incomplete. It's about fulfilment and engagement: not escape.

That's the kind of peace I wish you all...

but here are the lyrics of an old Eagles song that could perhaps be taken either way

"I Wish You Peace"

I wish you peace when the cold winds blow

Warmed by the fire's glow

I wish you comfort in the, the lonely time

And arms to hold you when you ache inside

I wish you hope when things are going bad

Kind words when times are sad

I wish you shelter from the, the raging wind

Cooling waters at the fever's end

I wish you peace when times are hard

The light to guide you through the dark

And when storms are high and your, your dreams are low

I wish you the strength to let love grow on,

I wish you the strength to let love flow,

I wish you peace when times are hard

A light to guide you through the dark

And when storms are high and your, you dreams are low

I wish you the strength to let love grow on,

I wish you the strength to let love flow,

I wish you the strength to let love glow on

I wish you the strength to let love go on.

The Reader part 2

Well... holiday time is over and it was back to work for me this weekend.
Hopefully it will also mean back to some blogging.
Weather-wise it was a pretty disappointing break. Most of the time I seem to have succeeded in avoiding any glimpses of sunshine that may just have fallen on the British Isles the last couple of weeks. I was in a number of places in England and Wales, including Manchester, Hawarden (more of which in a moment) Bristol and Buckinghamshire. And wherever I happened to be at any given moment, the sunshine was usually somewhere else.
In fact the photograph above is a little bit misleading in that there is actually quite a lot of blue sky showing. An hour or so after that moment, however, there was yet another monsoon.
Having said that, the main aim of my holiday break was not affected in any way by the weather, for I had decided that what I wanted to do most was some reading. Nothing too taxing or demanding. Nothing too 'useful' either. This was to be reading as a form of escape and relaxation.
I had intended (as I said in my last blog) to start with Jonathan Coe's "The Rotter's Club" and in fact I had begun reading before I left home.
Unfortunately, I forgot to take the book with me and for the moment it remains unfinished.
However, I had managed to pack a few others and over the course of the two weeks I read the following:
1. The Reader by Bernhard Schlink. Actually I finished this just before I went on holiday. Excellent story, well-written. Definitely to be recommended.
2. The Rotter's Club by Jonathan Coe. Interrupted in mid-read by my all-too-common forgetfulness- so no final judgement on this one - though I really was enjoying it.
3. One Good Turn by Kate Atkinson. Very well written crime/detective novel set in Edinburgh. Interesting and (mostly) believable characters and an intricate but well-controlled plot line. Another good escapist read.
4. Enigma by Robert Harris. Some years ago I saw the film of this fiction, set in wartime Bletchley Park, and I thought I might find reading the book pretty boring, but it certainly wasn't. Actually I find the true story of Bletchley Park exciting but there is enough of the real historical background in the book to make it work. Having visited Bletchley Park itself a couple of years ago it was very easy to visualise every location in the novel. Another recommended read.
5. Out by Natsuo Kirino. I'm not sure exactly why I chose to buy this particular book. It is not the kind of story I would normally feel attracted to. It is certainly not one for the faint-hearted. But it was the highlight of my summer reading- though highlight is a particularly ironic word in the context. Brilliantly gritty and disturbing, this 520 page novel is a descent into the darkness of the human psyche and it leaves you wondering what any one of us just might be capable of doing, and what boundaries any of us might just cross if the circumstances were right (or should I say wrong?) Probably what makes the story most disturbing is that the circumstances in question amount to little more than boredom and hopelessness. But you'll need to read it for yourself to see what I'm talking about.
6. Steal You Away by Niccolo Ammaniti. Another story populated by low-life characters; this time in Italy. I didn't find this novel quite as enjoyable as Ammaniti's first book "I'm Not Scared" but it had its moment.
7. The Two of Us by Sheila Hancock (My Life with John Thaw) I haven't yet finished reading this biography/autobiography but it is certainly much more than you average showbiz biog. Very well written and interesting, especially the structure of the two lives side-by-side.
8. Flights of Love by Bernhard Schlink (author of The Reader) This is really a collection of seven different stories. They are slightly longer than the average short story, all written in the same cool, understated but poetic style as The Reader. The stories are not connected with each other on the surface but the title Flights of Love indicates a shared theme, explored in many different ways. It ends up as a pretty uneven collection, though. I think some of the stories try to do too much in their attempt to deal with Germany's historical past but there is also some pretty good pieces of writing in the midst all of this. Unfortunately, I don't think it quite reached the heights of The Reader.
9. Raids on the Unspeakable by Thomas Merton and
10. The New Man by Thomas Merton.
These last two books I borrowed from and read in St. Deiniol's Library in Hawarden (pictured above) where I stayed for two nights.
It was a trial visit, scouting out a possible location for some study leave next year. The library's website advertises it as a place for "bed, board and books", but it is also a place to meet some really interesting people, most of whom were engaged in much more intellectual pursuits than I was, writing dissertations for postgraduate degrees or books for publication and so on.
I think I will be back.

A few extraordinary moments

Following up on my previous post... one of the books on my summer reading list that I am really enjoying just now is the above "The Rotters' Club" by Jonathan Coe.
It's a delightful read.
Here's a short paragraph that gives another slant to what I said in the previous post. It's an extract from a story within the story, written by the main character:
"I wonder if all experience can really be distilled to a few extraordinary moments, perhaps six or seven of them vouchsafed to us in a lifetime, and any attempt to trace a connection between them is futile. And I wonder if there are some moments in life not only 'worth purchasing with worlds', but so replete with emotion that they become stretched, timeless, like the moment when Inger and Emil sat on that bench in the rose garden and smiled at the camera..."

The Elusive Butterfly

Even without a proper zoom lens it is not difficult to get good close-up pictures of flowers because, for the most part, they just sit there, perfectly still. Unlike people they don't freeze in front of a camera or put on a funny face to hide embarrassment. You don't have to ask them to smile. What you see is what you get.
Photographing a butterfly is a bit more difficult -especially without a good telephoto lens- because they never seem to stay still for more than a few seconds.
On the dunes above Embo beach in Sutherland I came across a patch of thistles which seemed to be a happy feeding ground for a whole host of butterflies.
Above is one of them.
I know it is a fritillary but I'm not 100% sure which one as (I believe) there are three kinds of fritillary found in the north east of Scotland. [Again, someone more knowledgeable correct my facts if they are wrong, please.]
I think this may be a Dark Green Fritillary.
Now - I know it doesn't look in the slightest bit green but that just proves the ingenuity of those who identify and classify things like butterflies, of which there are so many varieties. The green (apparently) is on the underside of the wings (of the male only?) I can't remember exactly what I read somewhere about them and I don't have time to check.
To get a clear enough picture [and remember to click on the picture to see it full size] I had to get in to about half a metre from it. Not easy when the butterfly refuses to sit still for more than a few seconds at a time. This one, however, was enjoying a long drink of thistle nectar and gave me just enough time to snap away.
I think it is the elusiveness and fragility of butterflies that makes them so fascinating. (I can't help feeling my age when a certain song by Val Doonican runs through my head as I type these words!! - The Elusive Butterfly of Love, for those too young or too sophisticated to know.)
I may have quoted these lines before but many, many years ago I once wrote:

"The painting of a word on paper
or the ghost of an idea
are as fleeting as the glance of light
reflected from the rippled pool,
or the wings of a butterfly
rubbed against the summer air."
(c) Iain D. Cunningham

One thing I love about photography is its ability (very occasionally) to freeze such elusive moments in time; though perhaps in the very act of doing so, the reality is distorted. Butterflies, for example, just do not sit still for as long as it took you to read these words!

Impulse buying

Last week I bought myself a new guitar!
(A Tacoma DM14C electro-acoustic if you want to know.)
I've been saving up for one for a while.
My trusty old Yamaha FG-335 acoustic has just celebrated its 30th birthday and, like myself, it is getting a bit worn around the edges - or to be more precise along the fretboard. Admittedly I have seen a lot more than 30 birthdays.
Recently the Yamaha has also been harder to keep in tune for some reason. Maybe the tuners are just worn out too.
I was amazed to discover that people still buy and sell that old Yamaha on eBay for as much as £150. It was a good guitar, and has served me well, since it was first given to me away back in 1978. It's built like a tank and has withstood a fair amount of rough handling without any major injury. Unfortunately it would probably cost £100-£150 to have it re-fretted and the fingerboard repaired or replaced, so I thought the time had come to look for a replacement.
I did my usual thing and embarked on some research into makes and models - Ibanez, Takamine, Freshman, Tanglewood, Taylor (way out of my price range!)...
I saw (and more importantly heard) Newton Faulkner play his hand-built Benjamin guitar and briefly lusted after one - though I have as much chance of ordering and owning one of them as I have of owning a Ferrari!
Tacoma were not even on my radar, until I picked this one up in the guitar shop.
Right away I loved the clean bass sound and the fine and beautifully smooth neck. It just felt right. And it sounded good- even with my playing.
But I wasn't going to make any impulsive decisions (I said to myself) and informed the salesman in the guitar shop that I was going to visit another couple of guitar stores and music shops before I made up my mind.
I left the shop and started walking towards another store - less than half a mile away.
I walked quite quickly to begin with, then found my pace slackening off - not because I was out of breath but because I was getting further away from that guitar which I'd just played. It was calling out to me like a little puppy with irresistibly-appealing big brown eyes! "You know it is me you want!!" "Remember what I felt like in your hands!"
So I turned round and walked straight back to the shop and impulsively handed over nearly twice as much as I'd set out to spend.
All of this is a perfect illustration of why shopping and I just don't go together, and why shopping is for me a rare experience.
It's been well said that "the best things in life... are not things."
Well, the thing about any well-made musical instrument is that it is so much more than a thing. It represents possibilities yet to be explored, because any musical instrument is only ever as good as the hands that play it and the mind that controls it.
A bit like our own human lives I suppose.
This was also when I realised that my own guitar-playing hasn't evolved much in the last 25 years. New guitar: new challenge! Learn some new tunes and some new techniques.
Oh - and there's another new challenge. This one won't fit into the boot of my car!
And it's not a Ferrari.

Consider the lilies of the garden

One of my sisters has a fantastic garden.
A few years ago it was little more than a field in the highlands of Scotland. Now it is an oasis of colour and beauty. The transformation is the product of lots of creative imagination and lots and lots of constant hard work.
The whole garden is quite amazing but I usually like to home in on individual plants or objects because there is often as much great beauty and interest to be found in the small things as in the big picture.
The flower photographed above was one of my favourites this 'summer.'
I am no expert (certainly not when it comes to actually WORKING in the garden!) but I believe this may be a variety of Zantedeschia or arum lily. I'd be happy to be corrected by anyone who knows otherwise.
These flowers are not exactly shy and retiring are they? They almost SHOUT at you to notice them. And why not? Even the plant world seems to have its celebrities enjoying their moment of fame.

[Don't forget to click on the picture to see it full size.]

Going and Coming

One of the first things I noticed about Trigony House Hotel was the lintel above the main doorway. Carved into the stone were the words:
The Lord bless thy going out and thy coming in.
A slightly more interesting and unusual 'welcome' sign than the ones you find at the entrance to most modern hotels!
Given the order of the 'prayer' (i.e. beginning with going out and ending with coming in) I wondered if it had more to do with wishing guests a good shooting expedition than simply welcoming them to the lodge for the first time but somehow, for me, it set the tone for our mini retreat.
Of course perhaps it is meant as a variation of the old Scottish way of saying goodbye "Haste ye back!" ...i.e. once you've gone, we hope you come back again soon.
Then again - maybe it's just because in the Psalm from which this is a virtual quotation (Psalm 121) going comes before coming.
I better stop rambling now because I don't know whether I'm coming or going!

Calm between the storms

On Sunday I was preaching about some of the 'storms' of life that inevitably come our way, sooner or later. Given the recent 'summer' we have been 'enjoying' of late some might have been forgiven for thinking that I was just talking about the weather. But, of course, I meant it metaphorically.
Sometimes these 'storms' can be emotional or even spiritual tempests that threaten to overwhelm you altogether. At other times it might just be, as for myself recently, a whirlwind of activity or busyness.
Either way, any opportunity for calm is very welcome.
I have been very busy lately, especially with funerals and weddings, but on Sunday evening into Monday we had the opportunity to find some calm between the storms spending some time at the lovely oasis of tranquillity that is Trigony House Hotel
Whether it was the comfortably large room, the really excellent food, the beautiful garden and surrounding countryside... or just the extra large bed... it was a truly restful overnight stay. But perhaps most refreshing of all is just having friendly staff that serve you willingly and even gladly.
It reminded me that Jesus gave his disciples some very powerful and thought-provoking examples of service (like washing his disciples' feet) to show that he had come to serve not to be served, but he also set an example of allowing people to serve him. I am sure this helped to give him the strength he needed to do all that he did- that along with his frequent retreats into the quietness of the hills.
O let the summer come...

The Reader

Sometimes the act of writing comes very easily. You get an idea and the words spill out almost by themselves. Such times however are almost as rare as hen’s teeth.

Most of the time, it is just plain hard work. Sometimes it even seems a totally impossible task. The blank sheet of paper, or worse the blank computer screen, taunts you and mocks your lack of inspiration.

I find that by this time of year I am running almost on empty. And yet my role as a preacher demands the production of something new (or nearly new) every Sunday. I know when I am needing my holiday. And I know what I have to do when I do get the time off. I need to read: not write— just read for the sheer enjoyment of it.

I’m a bit of a binge reader actually. Once I get started I tend to devour book after book.

I’ve already gathered together some of the books I intend to take on holiday with me. I know I won’t get through them all but I don’t want to run out either. So I’ll take more than I need and (if past experience is anything to go by) I will still find a bookshop and buy some more.

To be honest, I have started my binge, although I won’t be on holiday for some weeks yet. Ironic, perhaps, that the first volume on my holiday booklist is called “The Reader.” by Bernhard Schlink.

No comments on it until I’ve finished… except to say that it is already a pretty good read.

Now back to that blank computer screen: I’ve a sermon to write!

Seizing the day

OK - it wasn't quite 'the whole truth and nothing but the truth' when I said I didn't take any pictures at Linsay & Kerron's wedding. In fact I took a few pictures before the event, of the marquee/gazebo in the garden, the empty hall and the florist preparing the church etc. as well as a few pictures in the house as we were all getting ready - such as this one of Lynn putting on Linsay's make-up. But I knew that when the time came for me to get into the wedding car with my daughter any kind of camera was just going to be in the way.
In any case, I also knew that I would not be able to compete with the official photographer for the day, Owen Roseblade.
[Great name that, isn't it? Only if you didn't say it very clearly someone might think you were saying "Havin' a Nosebleed!"]

Well, I'm happy to say that Owen has lived up to his reputation.
As a photo journal of the day it really does capture the joy of the occasion.

O Happy Day!

In reply to those who have asked why so little blogging lately, my excuse has been all the planning and preparation for my daughter's wedding on Saturday (though to be honest my contribution was marginal in comparison to what my wife did.) Apologies also that the above picture was not taken by me but by one of the guests "Chu." I was already wearing two hats as Father of the Bride and as Minister; I didn't want to complicate things further by trying to be amateur photographer as well.
I do have a few pictures taken before the wedding (i.e. when the sun was shining...) but once proceedings got under way I am afraid I was too busy to even think about taking photographs.
It was an absolutely brilliant day from start to finish. Beforehand I had wondered how it might feel walking down the aisle with Linsay then having to conduct the worship. Would I be completely overcome with emotion?
I have to admit that halfway down the aisle there was a brief flutter... but from then on it was just a totally joyful day, helped no doubt by the fact that Linsay and Kerron themselves seemed to be having such a good time.
My task was made easier by the fact that Linsay and Kerron had invited a friend, Andy Flannagan, to lead the praise at the beginning and end of the service and their former employer Andy Reed MP, to read the Bible readings. There was another Andy (Cunningham) in charge of the sound desk - so we almost had as many "Andes" as South America!
The ceremony was followed by champagne in a slightly chilly Manse garden, then a barbecue (cooked outside but eaten indoors) and finally a ceilidh in the church hall, led by "Rule of Three."

Come and worship...

Anyone who knows me will be aware that I rate the activity of shopping slightly below dental treatment in the scale of pleasurable pastimes. In fact, normally, I will do everything in my power to avoid shops altogether.
However, earlier this week, I spent a few days helping my eldest daughter to move house from one part of the great city of Manchester to another part of that same city. I really enjoyed the opportunity to spend a few days with her before her imminent wedding. I also (believe it or not) enjoyed building up all the flat-pack furniture- a bedside cabinet, a wardrobe and three bookcases. [By the time I got to bookcase number three I was an expert!]
However, it was also necessary to visit some shops during the course of my few days of being a one-man house-removal firm. And one of those expeditions into (for me) virtually foreign territory took us to The Trafford Centre, pictured above.
(I didn't have my camera with me so I have had to borrow a photograph from the Flickr site of Nicola Whitaker )
If you have not seen the Trafford Centre for yourself, you do not know what you are missing. To be honest, I'm not quite sure what I didn't miss!!
Believe me, this is one of the wonders of the modern world.... in a perverse sort of way.
Actually my first thought when we arrived was that somehow I had taken a detour and had accidentally ended up in Disneyworld. Well, for a start there are about 10,000 car-parking spaces. And everything looks like it has been manufactured out of resin. Then I wondered if I might be having an Alice-in-Wonderland moment.

Perhaps some people will find the Trafford Centre, and similar places (if there are any) to be places of inspiration and delight. To me it all seemed tackier than hot bitumen and as tasteful as tofu. (And, again, anyone who knows me will know what I think of tofu!)

Don't get me wrong- the place was utterly spotless and well-maintained, and clearly cost plenty of money to create, but to me it was the most over-the-top extravaganza I have seen in a long time.
In fact, I think that the Trafford Centre is to architecture what the Eurovision Song Contest is to music- i.e. there is some sort of relationship there but I don't quite know what it is.
I wonder what the reaction of some of my Kenyan friends might be to such a place?
But it set me thinking.
What is actually going on here?
Perhaps the explanation is simple: shopping has become a religion.
If the local superstore is the parish church of this new religion, giant retail parks like The Trafford Centre are the cathedrals and temples to the new gods. Like the great medieval cathedrals of Europe, these are places of pilgrimage for the consumer age, a homage to the gods of retail therapy and consumer credit.
The green domes of the Trafford Centre do look a bit like film-set copies of renaissance cathedrals. However, the main entrance is more of a Greek or Roman temple. (It's hard to tell which as all sorts of styles seem mixed up with each other.)
They are certainly places of sacrifice!
I know...
I ended up getting my credit card out too!

_The food hall... or maybe the deck of a luxury liner...

The perils of public speaking and live broadcasting

There are many perils and pitfalls facing anyone who would speak in public. Most of us who do it for a living, in one context or another, will have our own cringing memories of gaffes and blunders we have made, which is probably why there is a little frisson of secret delight when someone else does it!

Perhaps the only thing worse than accidentally saying the wrong word to a 'live audience' (since speaking to a 'dead audience' doesn't count!) is broadcasting your gaffe on national radio.

I was driving home a couple of days ago and, though I tend not to listen to the radio when I am driving, I was tuned in to Radio Scotland in order to hear the news at the top of the hour. Immediately following the news and sport there is normally a traffic report.

The female announcer (whom I will not name on compassionate grounds) unfortunately stated -with all due solemnity- that, as a result of excess surface water, traffic was very slow in the Charing Cross Underpants!

I just wonder what was in her mind at the time...

No, actually, I don't.

She compounded the error by immediately noticing her mistake and trying to correct it thereby drawing it to the attention of those who had not heard it in the first place.

For, of course, the truth is that we often hear what we expect to hear, just as we often read what we expect to read.

It's just a pity that sometimes we fail to say what we expected to say...

Oh, incidentally, she meant to say Charing Cross Underpass... I think.

Late for lunch

This is where I should have had lunch on Wednesday!

Holyrood Palace, one of the Queen's official royal residences in Scotland and home to the Lord High Commissioner and his retinue during the General Assembly.

(The photograph is not mine but from T Stadler's Flickr site. You will maybe understand why in a moment.)

To set this in some context I should explain that I am very much a last-minute sort of person (at least in terms of preparing for talks, sermons, speeches, meetings etc.) but, paradoxically, I absolutely hate being late for a meeting or other event. In fact, I will often arrive far too early for an event rather than be caught out by heavier than usual traffic or by some other unforeseen delay.

So imagine my frustration on Wednesday when we were too late for lunch.

Originally we had been invited to the palace on the Sunday but I had to point out that, since I am a Parish minister, Sunday was a working day for me and I couldn’t manage.

The palace very kindly issued another invitation for the Wednesday—the last day of the Assembly.

Although not a Commissioner at the General Assembly I was due to present the report of the Nomination Committee, of which I was convener. I had, of course, prepared the report at the very last minute the night before.
In the event, some of the reports before mine provoked lengthy debate and so went beyond their allocated time. By the time I stood up to speak I was already supposed to be at Holyrood and the palace had already phoned to ask where I had got to.
So we were too late and couldn’t go the palace after all.

However, the Moderator, Rev. David Lunan and his wife, Maggie, whom we have known for many years, invited us to have lunch with them instead. And a very nice lunch it was too!
(I have been reliably informed that we probably would not have been so well fed at the palace ...but I couldn’t possibly comment.)