Laying To Rest The Ghosts Of A Quiet Day

A rare free Saturday, so I made a last minute decision to go to a Quiet Day, organised by those who organise events for Readers in my Diocese. As it was being held at the parish church, there were no tricky transport issues to resolve. I just had to get DH to drop me off.

A couple of years have passed since I last attended a Quiet Day.  I haven't dared to return after several of us committed a monumental, accidental faux pas. We were so busy chatting after lunch, that we completely failed to notice that The Great Afternoon Silence had begun. There we were, in a most unholy huddle, chatting and even, gasp, laughing! Meanwhile, others in the same room were deep in prayer and meditation, trying valiantly to ignore our foolish prattle. Apart from the odd 'tut' no-one gave any indication that our conversations were out of place.
Eventually, the organiser reappeared and we realised to our horror that we had comprehensively committed the sin of breaking The Great Afternoon Silence.
We should not be united in convivial conversation, but separate small islands of silence - communicating with God, not our fellow Readers.
I vowed to avoid future Quiet Days - a pity, as the food at that particular venue, was rather good...

Fast forward a few years and I have a free Saturday, which coincides with the quiet day being held a mile or so from home. I decided to be brave and attend. It felt a bit odd, to be rolling up to an event in a building I knew so well...

During the introduction I found myself thinking of all the sins I could possibly commit during The Great Silence.
1. Go up the tower and ring a bell to warm up...
Fortunately, the heating was on, so that wasn't a problem.

2. Get rung up by DH and have a domestic over some triviality 
"Where is the green chopping board."
"I have absolutely no idea!"
"Have you hidden it again?"
"Not that I am aware of...Yet"
"I don't know what you have against that chopping board!"
"Maybe the fact that it half fills the dishwasher?"
"It doesn't fill half the dishwasher!"
"It takes up six spaces - five more than a standard small chopping board!"
"I do hope you haven't done anything silly with it..."
No, I didn't put it in the bin... Good idea though."
"Really!"
" I was joking. I really haven't put it in the bin, its the wrong sort of plastic for recycling."
"Ha! Ha!"
"Yes, that was a joke. You are right. It would be a waste for it to go to landfill.. and no self-respecting charity shop would want it!"
'You bought it. I don't know WHAT you have against it!"
"Yes, It was me that purchased the chopping board. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I had no idea you were going to use it every time you wanted to chop an item..."
Didn't happen.

3. Annoy everyone by walking round in circles to hatch eggs in Pokemon Go
I did go for a lovely walk...

4. Set the timer on my phone to loudly herald to end of each section with a loud klaxon sound effect. 
Resisted!

5. Sneeze loudly and continually
Not guilty, though I am sure I coughed a bit. OOps!

6. Talk to myself, randomly and at irregular intervals.
My thoughts remained in the best possible place - in my head...or on a piece of paper.

7. Play music on my phone, but so quietly that every one begins to suspect that they have developed tinnitus.
Resisted.

8. Go for a crafty fag and set the smoke alarms off
No excuse, there was plenty of opportunity to go outside - besides which I don't smoke.

9. Knock the hymn books on to the organ keyboard
I am sure it is turned off, well at least I hoped it was.
I avoided that area in case any hymnbooks tried to get me into trouble.

10. Strategically place whoopee cushions on certain seats
Fortunately, the chairs didn't have lose covers, but one to remember for another occasion...

So what DID I get up to?

The theme was contemplative prayer.
At best, my brain resembles a mush of random thoughts and ideas,
so I am not sure I did a very good job of silencing my mind.
I did spend some time focusing on
Philippians 4:4-9,
and felt inspired to draw a chart
to illustrate the words.

Always someone new to meet...

We gathered around small tables to eat our packed lunches,
chatting to folk we haven't seen for several months and making the acquaintance of those we have not met before.

Reader gatherings are like a dance,
with ever-changing participants.
There is always someone new to meet
and familiar faces to greet.







In the afternoon we were given some words to ponder on, focussing on the four seasons.
Outside Spring was calling to me,
so I lay down my pen and paper
and went out into the familiar parkland
that adjoins the church grounds.
Here the world and church intermingled with each other and nature.
The lane and fields are prime dog-walking territory for the nearby community,
and here and there individuals were walking, enjoying the spring sunshine - mainly Readers venturing out from the sanctuary of the church buildings to enjoy God's creation.







Because this was the church I attended as a child,
I have seen this area change from rural farmland,
to parkland within a new town.
Although I still live locally,
I don't often walk in the vicinity of the church,
as we usually arrive and leave by car.

In the intervening 40 or so years,
much has changed,
but not changed.
The pathways are in the same place,
but all the vegetation has grown.
This was once a trackway between two fields,
which I used to run down,
feeling my legs get faster and faster,
and wondering if they would actually run away from me! Now it is narrow and overgrown.

It is good to go back, attend another Quiet Day, enjoy the peace it offered and lay to rest the ghosts of disasters past.

One in a Minion

Finally,
and reluctantly,
we have begun the slow and painful process.
One guaranteed to strike fear into the heart of everyone.
Decorating!

I discovered my husband channelling his inner minion, ready to start battling with the 'nail pops' - small sections of slightly bulging plaster,
caused when the nails used in the construction of the house, gradually work their way loose,
forcing small sections of the plaster to bow outwards.
These small blemishes can be found all over the house.
Removal and refilling is essential prior to decorating.
Unexciting, tedious and laborious work, but essential if you want your paintwork acquire the look of respectability required to justify the cost of the paint.



Fortunately. DH is tall and can easily reach the ceiling.
Unfortunately, he still requires a small stepladder to reach above the kitchen cupboard, where nail pops lurk.
Fortunately, we have a selection of small step ladders to chose between.
Unfortunately, the ceiling was lower than DH thought it would be.
Fortunately, neither he or the ceiling, sustained any noticeable damage from the collision.
However, he did locate, and remove a significant cobweb.
1 - 0 to DH!

Later I was out in the garden, on tasks horticultural, when I heard a strange screeching sound.
Then I realised that DH had moved on to attack the loose plaster in the bathroom.
It sounded as if the whole house was protesting.
I was exceedingly glad I was outside, as it sounded bad enough through the filtration of double glazing.

Later I commented on the progress he had made.
"I didn't realise you were going to attack the bathroom as well!"
"How did you know?"
"A. The light was on.
B. I could hear the scraping outside!"
"Ah!"
He doesn't do subtle, my one in a minion, but he does do decorating - for which I am very grateful!

Epic Fail

Last week we persuaded our daughter to go to a youth club.
To her disgust, it was a youth club for young people with autism.
Despite this, she had a fabulous time and came home buzzing.

Roll forward to this week.
I forgot all about the Club.
How?
Despite the contact detail form being on the sideboard in the hall all week.
I forgot.
I only remembered long after DH had departed in the car.
Epic. Parenting. Fail.
Total. Disaster.
Worst. Thing. I. Could. Have. Done.
Muppet.

I have given her all the wrong messages
and undone most, if not all,  of what was achieved last week.
Argggggggggggggggggggggggggggh!
Meanwhile, the contact form mysteriously disappeared from the hall.

I decided to start making the invitations to the Afternoon Tea Service in April.
First, the decent table cloth needs to be removed, in case I set fire to it.
(You didn't think cardmaking was tame, did you?)
Before I managed to clear the table, I knocked over the vase.
OOps!
I go and hang the sodden tablecloth on the line.
The KHT was attempting to mop the table,
whilst holding items she had taken off the table.
Unfortunately, she wasn't actually holding on to everything.

CRASH!

My gold Yankee Candle candleholder slides ungracefully onto the floor and shatters,
scattering pieces across the kitchen floor.
"Wow!" though I, "I didn't realise that was ceramic..."
The KHT is horrified.
It is beyond repair.
I sweep up and bin the remains.

Fortunately, I was given a very nice candle holder for my birthday and the remaining Yankee Candles SHOULD fit in there.

The security light comes on.
There is a strange ginger cat in the garden.
I open the door and growl.
With feeling.
The cat disappears.
I sweep up, searching for minute shards of the candleholder.

The contact form finally and reluctantly reappears.
For some unknown reason, it has undergone a baptism by immersion.
I dry the form.
"Worse things happen at sea," I remind myself.

Staple Diet

Scheduled to take the minutes of a meeting, I roll up early to ensure the room is set up.
Some tables and chairs are stacked along one wall.
Unfortunately, there is insufficient furniture for the meeting.
Fortunately, additional tables and chairs are located in the storeroom off the main hall.
Unfortunately, the main hall is in use until precisely the moment the meeting is scheduled to commence.
Reluctant to disturb the group before I need to, I go into the office to fetch the paperwork.

I remember that the accounts and financial report have not yet been printed.
I log on to the computer
and open Gmail.
Nothing happens.
Close google.
Open Gmail again.
Open the document I plan to print.
Send to print.
There is no paper in the printer.
The printer is not a happy printer.
Refill the paper and resend to print.
The printer takes umbrage and fires out a blank sheet.
Remove the paper from the printer and talk nicely to it
reminding the paper that it can conquer its fear of the printer.
Replace the paper.
Press the reprint button.
It fires out another blank sheet, to prove the first was not a fluke
I send it to print again.
Just as the printer is poised to actually print, the computer decides it is going to shut down
as the main power lead is not plugged in.
I gambled that the computer would have sufficient power to print what I required.
I lost that gamble.
Find the computer lead and plug it in.
Restart the computer.
Persuade the computer that it is safe to restart
and that aliens are not going to attempt to devour its brains.
Once more the document is sent to print.
The printer spews out another blank page.
I try again.
Success.

I attempt to staple the pages together.
but the stapler merely mangles the staple
reforming it into a hideous distortion of its former self rather than an efficient paper fastening.
I remove the staple and try again.
Again a strangely manipulated piece of metal lies unrepentantly on top of the paperwork.
Third time lucky?
Nope.
I find additional staples in the desk drawer
ALL the old staples are rashly jettisoned.
I take a deep breath and pray
It staples!!!
I take my paperwork into the room where the meeting is happening.

In my absence, the tables have all been set up and are now neatly corralled by the chairs.
I am handed a sheef of papers including all the paperwork I have just printed.

I need not have bothered... but I do not mind,
because if I hadn't...I might not have had all of that which I required.

Passing the Cheshire Cat...

On Saturday we ventured north for a day's ringing in Cheshireland with the Open University ringers.
"We will leave by 7:00am," said I, rashly, thinking the day's entertainment began at 9.
I checked the schedule.
Ringing began at 10am, so we were not in such a rush.
As a consequence, it was around 8:00am before we left.

We trundled up the M5,
crawled at the regulatory 30mph through five miles of roadworks
on the Oldbury Viaduct
before joining the M6,
then the M54
and the very long and winding A41 -
passing through towns and villages,
overtaking tractors
and enjoying the sunlit countryside.
"Are those the Welsh mountains?" enquired the KHT.
I checked the map.
To my surprise, we were only about 5 miles from the border.
"Yes, those mountains are definitely in Wales."
They may look small and insignificant in the photo, but they were some way off.

Lunch had been prebooked at a hostelry.
We passed a pub by the name of the Black Dog.
The original plan was to have lunch there,
but unfortunately, it had recently closed with no warning,
following a modern trend.
We passed another establishment - The Cheshire Cat.
"Are we eating there?" enquired the KHT, approving of the name of this establishment.
I checked the itinerary
"No, sadly not. We are having lunch at The Plough in Christleton."


Our first tower was Chester Cathedral,
with its distinctive detatched Addleshaw tower.
The bells used to be located in the central tower of the cathedral. Unfortunately, it became apparent that the weight of the bells created too greater strain on the building.
To solve the problem the bells were relocated to a purpose-built belltower, situated in the cathedral grounds.
Given the long and arduous climb required to reach the ringing chamber at most large churches and cathedrals, this was a welcome relief.


Our instructions were to park in Abbey Square.
The entrance was narrow and through a low archway.
We missed it the first time and had to turn around.
The bollard was down, so we drove in.

On the ground floor were chunky modern stained glass windows which reminded me of the modern glass at Coventry Cathedral and Buckfast Abbey.
A single turn of a modern wooden spiral took us to the ringing floor - much less physically challenging than the long and winding staircases and narrow passageways required to ringing at most cathedrals.

We arrived just after they had started ringing, but were not the last.
Another ringer arrived about ten minutes after us and explained that he had been directed to park in the nearby multi-storey.
In the general discussion that followed we realise that none of the other ringers had managed to gain access to Abbey Square. When they arrived the bollard was raised and the person on the other end of the intercom was redirecting ringers to a nearby car park.
"We just drove in..." 
The rest of the ringers turned and looked at us.in amazement.
"The bollard was down so we assumed they were expecting us.." said DH
Maybe the Bishop drives a similar coloured Ford with tinted windows...
"Let's hope we can get back out again!" I
"Oh, it will be fine. Getting in is the tricky bit. The bollard will just lower to let us out."
Fortunately, he was right. The bollard obediently lowered itself allowing us to escape when we had finished our ringing.

Our second tower should have been Eccleston, but the organiser had not been able to confirm that we could ring there. Fortunately, we were able to ring at St Mary's-outside-the-walls instead.
As both would have been new towers for us we were happy with either. St Mary's had a most impressive church centre adjacent to the church. The people on reception kindly allowed us to use the facilities - which was very much appreciated.

Lunch was next. Fortunately, the tour organiser had found another pub that would happily accommodate a quick influx of about sixteen visitors on a schedule.
DH and the manager had a quick conflab as to what he could eat - gluten-free sausages, new potatoes and mixed veg were selected.

Three towers followed after lunch - Christleton, Tarporley and Malpas - all of them grand in their own way.
We read the peal boards at Christleton with great interest,
admiring the lengths rung to celebrate royal events so long ago.
Noting that the date touch for 1901 was 1903 changes long!
These days a date touch would be expected to match the number of changes, to the year, precisely.
Things must have been different back then.






Prior to this outing, I had only passed through Cheshire en route to a further destination.
Tantalising glimpses of canals and countryside,
small towns and little villages,
 as well as the interesting architecture of Chester itself,
tempt me to return.
After all, we never set foot in the cathedral proper!
The question is, how many years will elapse before we revisit Cheshireland?

Pearls of Lesser Price

"I am meeting friends for coffee, I could drop you in Worcester, and meet you later?"
This seemed like a good plan. What could possibly go wrong?
The KHT and I could spend even more time browsing charity shops, providing the opportunity for her to read even more books well below her ability, hold up oversized clothing against herself and ask
"What would I look like in this?"
and allowing me to respond in the succinct, but time-honoured fashion

"Ridiculous!"
Meanwhile, I can look out for small vases to decorate the tables at the Afternoon Tea Services and browse through the jewellery section. I don't have posh jewellery, having no desire to have items of great price, hung about my person.

I used to buy my jewellery from gift shops,
or end of season sales in department stores,
until I saw the light.
Now I have discovered I can get other peoples' castoffs at much lower prices AND support local charities - a definite win as far as I am concerned - extra choice of necklaces,
at a cost that doesn't break the bank,
with proceeds going to help others.

However, I have now acquired so many necklaces courtesy of charity shops, that I am reluctant to count them and face the scale of the ever-increasing 'problem'.
Necklaces adorn the back of a wardrobe door,
rattling threateningly when the door is opened.
Others lie in a drawer,
but they tend to get irritatingly intertwined and knotted,
so that really isn't an effective solution.
Given the exponential rate at which my collection is growing, I need a better solution, and soon!

DH has a cunning plan.
He is going to build a hanging display case where I could store my stash 

and easily find the necklace I am searching for. 

The only problem is that I think he is expecting about a dozen necklaces...

In Worcester, the time came and went when I expected to get word indicating that the car was parked and we should head for the pre-selected cafe.
I have been restrained and only purchased one necklace.

No messages.
We browsed a few more shops while we wait.
Unbeknownst to us, the A38 had been closed, along with other key roads in the city centre.
Out of sight of the main shopping streets, the city was gridlocked.
Our driver was crawling along in traffic jams,
having completely lost all sense of direction - was she heading into the city, or out,
and who has moved the Cathedral...?
Her satnav helpfully tried to send her down all the roads that are closed.


Meanwhile, the KHT and I had noticed the fire engine outside Argos and the ambulance in the High Street.
"Was Worcester secretly taking part in some strategic planning exercise?"
Later, I sought the advice of the waitress as to why the city was so bad.
It is payday! They all are heading into the city to spend their money!" was her response.
"I hope they don't go and buy all the jewellery!" thought I.

The pieces for the to-be-constructed-necklace-storage were purchased on New Year's Eve and have languished in the spare room ever since.
I need to give precise details as to the location of the storage before I accumulate enough points to unlock the construction level of this particular challenge...
By now I have reached the point that I can't see the necklaces for the necklaces, so I have had a bright idea.
I will get some strong yarn or string, and attach to the handles of the over-the-head-of-the bed storage, and then hang all the necklaces from this, like a visual confession of my philanthropic purchases.
Meanwhile, the KHT can have a wonderful time sorting them into colour order.

As I always sleep with the fan on at night, there will be the most wondrous song of tinkling necklaces to serenade DH's slumbers.
I feel sure that my husband will really appreciate this cunning plan!
I will let you know what happens...
I just hope my idea doesn't prove to be so heavy that it pulls the over the bed cupboard off the wall...