"You do not belong to the night but to the day".
Susie's party on Saturday at a former industrial venue in Ladbroke Grove was one of the best I've been to - even by Barran-Pouleaupot standards. Endless rooms and nooks and crannies to explore and get lost in by mobile phone light, copious guests and drink and food and many a friend to catch up with. Danceable music and fably atmospheric candle-lighting. Then a lift home with the gang in Barn's Rover 2000 in time to catch enough zzzz to get up for work.
All should have been well...
Ollah, bless her, had worked like a Trojan to get the place ready: not too much drunkenness and a good mix of ages. Lots of folk in costume - spots and stripes or black and white, and a birthday to celebrate to boot.
All should have been well...
Bit of a rough place Ladbroke Grove.
Apparently the Police dealt with the situation well and managed to clear the building. They haven't as yet recovered Ollah's laptop, last seen disappearing up the road under the arm of a youth on board a bicycle...
(I'd be gutted if anyone made off with Chloe: poor Ollah!)
Well, it could have easily been a lot worse: a fire for instance, or the dancing dislodging one of the 20 or so props supporting the ceiling.
But it's still pretty bad...
A very hot coal blessing upon the head of whoever had the stupid idea of ruining the evening by gatecrashing and pilfering the hostesses bedroom: yes a very hot blessing indeed. My friend Stuart used to describe how our sin tightened the nails on the Cross a quarter turn.
See photos. Thanks to all of you who managed to get there.
Wednesday, 25 April 2012
Tuesday, 24 April 2012
The apophatic gospel: Acts 4
"Lots of folk who called themselves Christians...
kept themselves to themselves in a really negative way and were self-opinionated and, frankly, isolated, not daring to properly share their lives with their fellow church members because they couldn't stand to not always get their way: they all thought their way of doing things was the best, especially if it was to do with the faith. Many of them hoarded things and money, and refused to even lend or loan personal possessions let alone give anything away, especially their time.
The ministers were pretty ineffective in their witness; very few people in the secular world saw even the concept of 'God' as relevant, let alone genuinely came to believe that Jesus had actually risen from the dead.
There was very little grace among them: there were quarrels and even lawsuits and hardly anyone came to faith.
There were lots of needy people on the periphery and they didn't get a lot of practical help from their more comfortably off "friends" - it was just about unheard of for someone to actually sell anything he owned and give the money away: if someone had done that with their property or country estate it would have been almost scandalous, certainly considered irresponsible - people just idolised houses and wealth especially, and most folk among them were so discontented they could only think about accumulating more for themselves: comfort was a kind of god."
Little exercise on rewriting Acts 4:32-34. Which version fits your church experience best?
With thanks to Irene Ng for her help.
kept themselves to themselves in a really negative way and were self-opinionated and, frankly, isolated, not daring to properly share their lives with their fellow church members because they couldn't stand to not always get their way: they all thought their way of doing things was the best, especially if it was to do with the faith. Many of them hoarded things and money, and refused to even lend or loan personal possessions let alone give anything away, especially their time.
The ministers were pretty ineffective in their witness; very few people in the secular world saw even the concept of 'God' as relevant, let alone genuinely came to believe that Jesus had actually risen from the dead.
There was very little grace among them: there were quarrels and even lawsuits and hardly anyone came to faith.
There were lots of needy people on the periphery and they didn't get a lot of practical help from their more comfortably off "friends" - it was just about unheard of for someone to actually sell anything he owned and give the money away: if someone had done that with their property or country estate it would have been almost scandalous, certainly considered irresponsible - people just idolised houses and wealth especially, and most folk among them were so discontented they could only think about accumulating more for themselves: comfort was a kind of god."
Little exercise on rewriting Acts 4:32-34. Which version fits your church experience best?
With thanks to Irene Ng for her help.
Wednesday, 18 April 2012
That promised Royal Scandle picture...
Yes, here it is folks: Price's Candle Factory, by Appointment, have graciously web-supplied a picture of a selection of their Church candles: Candles for the King from the Candlemakers to kings...
But the serious point here is, (and you may remember that there was a small note attached to my previous post: namely "This is an experiment"), did you genuinely want there to be a(nother) genuine "Royal scandal"? What were your feelings when you discovered the pun-chline? (for which my apologies! Terrible, I know.)
This is of course mitigated by the fact that you almost certainly didn't expect there to be a real Royal scandal lurking in this cul-de-sac of the e-thosphere... but would you have liked there to be? Was your feeling on discovering the cheat, disappointment or relief or somewhere between the two?
Have been thinking about malice and Original sin (which has tied in with the daily readings of Magnificat at the moment.) It's interesting the nasty things lurking in the woodshed of the heart sometimes: that part of us all, yes! you too, (well according to the teaching of the Catholic Church,) that takes some perverse delight in reading about Royal scandals, rubber-necking at car crashes, gossip, slander, dismissing and disdaining: all that sort of thing: the bon mot which lacks enough Goodness for anything but inflating our ego or enough kindness to genuinely help the lucky recipients of our motorway-through-the-village pronouncements from on high...
Someone I know has posted up by email a very enthusiastic response to the announcement that Christopher West is delivering a talk here in London on the 13th May about his new book "At the heart of the gospel".
Someone else I know rather less well, has posted up a link to a withering review of said book that they happened to put up on Amazon. A witty review. Pithy. Etc. It's 2 lines long.
Person 1, enthusiastic West supporter has recently been to America to hear West in person and take a course at his study centre. The enthusiasm then may be that of a zealot and convert but it is to some measure first hand (which the pithiness is to a measure not - or not to my knowledge). Neither zealot nor detractor are fools, nor do they know each other terribly well.
(I rather like the book which is not entirely by-the-by.)
Pithy reviewer seems to imply the desire to paint the book in the worst possible colours. Enthusiastic zealot seems to paint the work with wholesale primary colours of approbriation. Which is to be trusted?
I guess neither entirely. We are all tainted with some degree of participation in Original sin or indulgence of it. The enthusiasm could be the mark of seeking glory by association - we all do it to some measure - but certainly the withering review is not charitable and seems to delight in the condemnation it metes out.
BUT the Original sin is not the deepest thing in us!
The deepest thing in us is the Creator's mark - that participation in the blessing of being made by a good God, whose Creation is "Very good" and carries his fingerprints. We are noble ruins and becoming the Sons of the King: called to participate in forging our own destiny. We have a choice. We are made by and for Love and can delight in or reject him.
I suppose I'm a little bit cross at pithy reviewer: partly for dismissing a book I'm enjoying and my friends have enjoyed, and partly because I feel a bit dismissed myself for having enjoyed it so much. Speaking seriously, I don't think he's right to enjoy his bon mot so much - although it is clever, with the "cleverness" of cruelty mark you.
Oh well. As I've said several times on this website; "The highest form of wisdom is kindness".
We should be very beware of indulging the tendency to relish evil. Even if our pronouncements our true, it is the measure to which we enjoy making them which is the mark of our charity or otherwise. Even here and in this context, I have to be careful.
Hello! to any readers who may wish to leave comments.
But the serious point here is, (and you may remember that there was a small note attached to my previous post: namely "This is an experiment"), did you genuinely want there to be a(nother) genuine "Royal scandal"? What were your feelings when you discovered the pun-chline? (for which my apologies! Terrible, I know.)
This is of course mitigated by the fact that you almost certainly didn't expect there to be a real Royal scandal lurking in this cul-de-sac of the e-thosphere... but would you have liked there to be? Was your feeling on discovering the cheat, disappointment or relief or somewhere between the two?
Have been thinking about malice and Original sin (which has tied in with the daily readings of Magnificat at the moment.) It's interesting the nasty things lurking in the woodshed of the heart sometimes: that part of us all, yes! you too, (well according to the teaching of the Catholic Church,) that takes some perverse delight in reading about Royal scandals, rubber-necking at car crashes, gossip, slander, dismissing and disdaining: all that sort of thing: the bon mot which lacks enough Goodness for anything but inflating our ego or enough kindness to genuinely help the lucky recipients of our motorway-through-the-village pronouncements from on high...
Someone I know has posted up by email a very enthusiastic response to the announcement that Christopher West is delivering a talk here in London on the 13th May about his new book "At the heart of the gospel".
Someone else I know rather less well, has posted up a link to a withering review of said book that they happened to put up on Amazon. A witty review. Pithy. Etc. It's 2 lines long.
Person 1, enthusiastic West supporter has recently been to America to hear West in person and take a course at his study centre. The enthusiasm then may be that of a zealot and convert but it is to some measure first hand (which the pithiness is to a measure not - or not to my knowledge). Neither zealot nor detractor are fools, nor do they know each other terribly well.
(I rather like the book which is not entirely by-the-by.)
Pithy reviewer seems to imply the desire to paint the book in the worst possible colours. Enthusiastic zealot seems to paint the work with wholesale primary colours of approbriation. Which is to be trusted?
I guess neither entirely. We are all tainted with some degree of participation in Original sin or indulgence of it. The enthusiasm could be the mark of seeking glory by association - we all do it to some measure - but certainly the withering review is not charitable and seems to delight in the condemnation it metes out.
BUT the Original sin is not the deepest thing in us!
The deepest thing in us is the Creator's mark - that participation in the blessing of being made by a good God, whose Creation is "Very good" and carries his fingerprints. We are noble ruins and becoming the Sons of the King: called to participate in forging our own destiny. We have a choice. We are made by and for Love and can delight in or reject him.
I suppose I'm a little bit cross at pithy reviewer: partly for dismissing a book I'm enjoying and my friends have enjoyed, and partly because I feel a bit dismissed myself for having enjoyed it so much. Speaking seriously, I don't think he's right to enjoy his bon mot so much - although it is clever, with the "cleverness" of cruelty mark you.
Oh well. As I've said several times on this website; "The highest form of wisdom is kindness".
We should be very beware of indulging the tendency to relish evil. Even if our pronouncements our true, it is the measure to which we enjoy making them which is the mark of our charity or otherwise. Even here and in this context, I have to be careful.
Hello! to any readers who may wish to leave comments.
Monday, 16 April 2012
Simon Cowell exclusive! Royal scandal unveiled! Only here!
It's amazing what the power of putting "Harrods-on-sea" last week as a blog title has done to my readership figures... ah me! The power of advertising, the roar of the chequebook, the thrill of the power...
Well... I suppose that I'd better come up with a Simon Cowell exclusive now I've lured you out of cybersurfing the big waves of the e-coast to the cul-de-sac of thefellowshipofthestring.blogspot.com... and I have one!!!
(Well kind of.)
This is an analogy in the loosest sense of the word.
As a graduate of the cattle trucks of the X factor auditions, herded together in freezing conditions by the tens of thousand outside the collection of talent point, the hard silhouette of the bitter slogan of our captors painted against the sky, like a mocking, overweight comedian's catchphrase, taunting us in our desflair... and by it's naked impossibility to all save the one inheritor of the Cruwell Crown of Millionairedom... "Starbux macht frei"... reduced to the irreducible X of the crossed arms salute...
Too much...
BUT! Yes it was horrible, and really cold (not that it was in anyway Polish) but there was a sense of a sudden and overwhelmingly important and irrevocable decision being made. The elect were granted their papers of leave to suspense until the next grisly round: how many of those enjoying the 'punch the air triumph' would live till the TV morn... and we were made to cheer, endless silent cheering, hollow as our coffee chain cardboard coffee cups after 9 hours, cheer, not once, not twenty times, but many times the space that measures night and day to mortal man. Up and down the music volume was turned to drown the noise of the tumult of the tired and the taunted and the bored, the testy and the tested. Here was a mass that was ready to crowdvolt against their captors but they lacked the weapons to do so. For we were slaves and had given away our freedom or had it torn from us, like a latte cup that is swiped before we're entirely finished with licking the reachable parts of the chalice...
And this is the serious point behind this admittedly sensationawhimsicalism, is there some sort of collective madness at work here? Some crackpot quasi-Messiah of the adoring millions who has beguiled the voters to place him in the world Premierliament of popularity, to the destruction of the morals and minds of the majority, alliterating his great white way to the top with a clattering of tan cremes and top notes, a uniform of tight belts and tucked in t-shirts: who is this Pariah of swing, this Svengali of Pop, the Sybo of 40 somethings, the one, the only, the best, the brightest, the biggest, the never to be repeated (except at hourly intervals...)
Yes, I too have fallen. A victim of the cultural wars of these early years of our brave new cenemetery of integrity. How the gods of yesteryear, the Forsyth's all bruised by their sagas of career ascendancy and follicle-descendency, how these demi-heroes triumphed in their live long journey to the Ever-terrestrian heights, is but for the stuffing of moths by old newspaper headlines: like an old jumper we wonder at - "did men truly ever wear such strictures? Was such discomfiture once modelled, and by such as me?"
Now we have reached the sunny upland of the Fifteen Minutes, such historic toil is to be marveled at as the protean efforts of the inventors of the wheel or biro. Cowell the Great maketh many marvels in his lunch hour as these. Here, where all are famous who are old enough to be photographed and placed into the homes of babes and sucklings as either babes or suckers, what wonders shall there be when broadband is as instant as the aspired for reflection in the glory of the white-toothed wonder...
Oh yes! That Royal exclusive I mentioned...
Now where did I put that photo....????
Well... I suppose that I'd better come up with a Simon Cowell exclusive now I've lured you out of cybersurfing the big waves of the e-coast to the cul-de-sac of thefellowshipofthestring.blogspot.com... and I have one!!!
(Well kind of.)
This is an analogy in the loosest sense of the word.
As a graduate of the cattle trucks of the X factor auditions, herded together in freezing conditions by the tens of thousand outside the collection of talent point, the hard silhouette of the bitter slogan of our captors painted against the sky, like a mocking, overweight comedian's catchphrase, taunting us in our desflair... and by it's naked impossibility to all save the one inheritor of the Cruwell Crown of Millionairedom... "Starbux macht frei"... reduced to the irreducible X of the crossed arms salute...
Too much...
BUT! Yes it was horrible, and really cold (not that it was in anyway Polish) but there was a sense of a sudden and overwhelmingly important and irrevocable decision being made. The elect were granted their papers of leave to suspense until the next grisly round: how many of those enjoying the 'punch the air triumph' would live till the TV morn... and we were made to cheer, endless silent cheering, hollow as our coffee chain cardboard coffee cups after 9 hours, cheer, not once, not twenty times, but many times the space that measures night and day to mortal man. Up and down the music volume was turned to drown the noise of the tumult of the tired and the taunted and the bored, the testy and the tested. Here was a mass that was ready to crowdvolt against their captors but they lacked the weapons to do so. For we were slaves and had given away our freedom or had it torn from us, like a latte cup that is swiped before we're entirely finished with licking the reachable parts of the chalice...
And this is the serious point behind this admittedly sensationawhimsicalism, is there some sort of collective madness at work here? Some crackpot quasi-Messiah of the adoring millions who has beguiled the voters to place him in the world Premierliament of popularity, to the destruction of the morals and minds of the majority, alliterating his great white way to the top with a clattering of tan cremes and top notes, a uniform of tight belts and tucked in t-shirts: who is this Pariah of swing, this Svengali of Pop, the Sybo of 40 somethings, the one, the only, the best, the brightest, the biggest, the never to be repeated (except at hourly intervals...)
Yes, I too have fallen. A victim of the cultural wars of these early years of our brave new cenemetery of integrity. How the gods of yesteryear, the Forsyth's all bruised by their sagas of career ascendancy and follicle-descendency, how these demi-heroes triumphed in their live long journey to the Ever-terrestrian heights, is but for the stuffing of moths by old newspaper headlines: like an old jumper we wonder at - "did men truly ever wear such strictures? Was such discomfiture once modelled, and by such as me?"
Now we have reached the sunny upland of the Fifteen Minutes, such historic toil is to be marveled at as the protean efforts of the inventors of the wheel or biro. Cowell the Great maketh many marvels in his lunch hour as these. Here, where all are famous who are old enough to be photographed and placed into the homes of babes and sucklings as either babes or suckers, what wonders shall there be when broadband is as instant as the aspired for reflection in the glory of the white-toothed wonder...
Oh yes! That Royal exclusive I mentioned...
Now where did I put that photo....????
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
Harrods-on-sea
The Margate charity shops have been busy today - Rondle, Ma and I spent a very happy few hours hunter gathering along the clothes rails.
Jeepers headed for Huddersfield this morn after a power breakfast at the Dalby Caf, following a quick walk for Jack Russell Harmer along the Turner beach. The image used for the Turner exhibition running at the moment was painted from my favourite dog-walking beach - bit of pedigree for Jack now he's reached the grand old age of 12 (or good as).
Jeepers was very struck by the Rodin The Kiss, which has been lurking in the window of the Turner gallery since January. It really is a genius bit of work. Enormous too. Even Baranarnaby enjoyed the exhibition (!)
Kept bumping into Dave from the jetski cafe - first at The Golden Curry (Margate's premier tandoor) then today at Milo's Cafe in the Old Town, plus baby James and partner Daniella. Mum had spotted him outside Rocker Bob's 2nd hand shop earlier in the week. He's invited the Fellowship to the Waterski Club sometime summerwards to keep the crowds amused.
Forces are gathering for Jane Barran-Pouleaupot's soiree next month, namely Barn on guitar and high tenor, Lulu on guitar and soulful voice, Regina on violin, Indomitable de Nordwall on tall tales, and Rupert de B on keys. I'm going to try and get something up to scratch on the old harp in time: Bluebell sallies forth for her inaugural voyage. Jeepers had a go whilst staying in London (3 blind mice and Ode to Joy) and has fallen for the sound as well; it is beautiful!
Managed to afford to treat my dear Mama to a very stylish jacket from the Pilgrims Hospice shop as we hunter gathered our way through the arvo. Ab fab (darling) would have been proud.
Grazie Monsieur Fayed and Monsieur Lacroix...!
Jeepers headed for Huddersfield this morn after a power breakfast at the Dalby Caf, following a quick walk for Jack Russell Harmer along the Turner beach. The image used for the Turner exhibition running at the moment was painted from my favourite dog-walking beach - bit of pedigree for Jack now he's reached the grand old age of 12 (or good as).
Jeepers was very struck by the Rodin The Kiss, which has been lurking in the window of the Turner gallery since January. It really is a genius bit of work. Enormous too. Even Baranarnaby enjoyed the exhibition (!)
Kept bumping into Dave from the jetski cafe - first at The Golden Curry (Margate's premier tandoor) then today at Milo's Cafe in the Old Town, plus baby James and partner Daniella. Mum had spotted him outside Rocker Bob's 2nd hand shop earlier in the week. He's invited the Fellowship to the Waterski Club sometime summerwards to keep the crowds amused.
Forces are gathering for Jane Barran-Pouleaupot's soiree next month, namely Barn on guitar and high tenor, Lulu on guitar and soulful voice, Regina on violin, Indomitable de Nordwall on tall tales, and Rupert de B on keys. I'm going to try and get something up to scratch on the old harp in time: Bluebell sallies forth for her inaugural voyage. Jeepers had a go whilst staying in London (3 blind mice and Ode to Joy) and has fallen for the sound as well; it is beautiful!
Managed to afford to treat my dear Mama to a very stylish jacket from the Pilgrims Hospice shop as we hunter gathered our way through the arvo. Ab fab (darling) would have been proud.
Grazie Monsieur Fayed and Monsieur Lacroix...!
Monday, 9 April 2012
Thank you for the music...
I often think to myself, 'what a wonderful world!': especially after lovely holidays with lovely friends such as this last trip to Cotintin, Normandy, to stay with Ma Aviary plus Lucy Lu and Charlie Des Forges, Al Verey and Aviary herself. The Cohen songbook I bought along was definitely the right choice (we beatnicks!)
The final evening we were there, seated variously around the woodburning stove and the fireplace, a delicious asparagus risotto warming the cockles of our metaphors, the calvados bottle still with a little blessing to bestow, and the joy of the company very joyfully joyous - like a joyous thing! Bless you dear friends for such a lovely 'ickle trip - thanks of the extra special sort to Ma Aviary for really beyond-the-call-of-setting-a-benchmark generosity... what a wonderful world!
Lots of music over the Triduum since return on Thursday eve - quite a lot of playing the organ and singing along which evidently compromised on the quality of both organ playing and singing. BUT we got through!
After Mass yesterday (Easter Day) Barnanaby and I headed for the open road in his wondrous 1971 white Rover 2000 (with Toledo red interior). So glad to get down to Margate and see Rondle and Sus and dear Ma and Pa. We feasted on roast lamb and apple tart and red wine and a merry time was had by all - JP joined us separately a little later. Barn and I popped in to see (Aunty) Mary Watkins for a couple of hours en route - friend Lydia brought round extremement delicieuse cupcakes.
Photo which I will try and put up shortly was taken as we headed for a snifter at the Rose in June. Barnaby I think said it looked like a bunch of ageing rockers had reformed for a band reunion... apart from Sus I presume Barn!
Saturday just gone was an interesting day and somewhat Purgatorial...
I didn't sing in the end, but I did queue up 9 hours for an X factor audition.
MEA MAXIMA CULPA!!!!
The final evening we were there, seated variously around the woodburning stove and the fireplace, a delicious asparagus risotto warming the cockles of our metaphors, the calvados bottle still with a little blessing to bestow, and the joy of the company very joyfully joyous - like a joyous thing! Bless you dear friends for such a lovely 'ickle trip - thanks of the extra special sort to Ma Aviary for really beyond-the-call-of-setting-a-benchmark generosity... what a wonderful world!
Lots of music over the Triduum since return on Thursday eve - quite a lot of playing the organ and singing along which evidently compromised on the quality of both organ playing and singing. BUT we got through!
After Mass yesterday (Easter Day) Barnanaby and I headed for the open road in his wondrous 1971 white Rover 2000 (with Toledo red interior). So glad to get down to Margate and see Rondle and Sus and dear Ma and Pa. We feasted on roast lamb and apple tart and red wine and a merry time was had by all - JP joined us separately a little later. Barn and I popped in to see (Aunty) Mary Watkins for a couple of hours en route - friend Lydia brought round extremement delicieuse cupcakes.
Photo which I will try and put up shortly was taken as we headed for a snifter at the Rose in June. Barnaby I think said it looked like a bunch of ageing rockers had reformed for a band reunion... apart from Sus I presume Barn!
Saturday just gone was an interesting day and somewhat Purgatorial...
I didn't sing in the end, but I did queue up 9 hours for an X factor audition.
MEA MAXIMA CULPA!!!!
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