Stella and I went out for a shopping-date yesterday, and after some superb Thai food we ended up in Dunelm Mill, a cornucopia of discount fabrics, homewares and soft furnishings at reasonable prices. There were loads of reductions in the Sale, so we went on a bargain hunt.
I headed straight for the bedding - strange behaviour, you might think, for a tools-and-gadget-loving male. Perhaps I should explain...
I have a problem with pillows. I've tried many in the past, looking for the one that will give me a consistently good night's sleep. They never deliver. The last one I bought was a 'rebound pillow', which was meant to return to its former shape time and again. After a few weeks, however, it ended up like all the others; supportive at the edges but with a void in the middle that no amount of tugging, pummeling or shaking could remedy.
Maybe I have a heavy head? Stella's head is about the same size and weight as mine but her pillows remain annoyingly serviceable. I've even tried stealing them, but once they get under my head they're doomed and the same cavity soon develops. Maybe I roll around or kneel up and repeatedly head-butt the pillow in my sleep? It's possible, but since I'm asleep I've no idea. What I do know, though, is that I've been waking up tired and with headaches and neck pain for months.
I'd heard of memory foam before. Apparently developed by NASA, it responds to your body and moulds itself to your shape before returning to normal when you get up. And it's usually quite expensive, so I was intrigued to find memory foam pillows in Dunelm Mill at discount prices. One pillow from their most expensive range was on display with an invitation to "touch me". So I did. I can't say I was impresssed.
My hand sank into it, and when I let go it popped back out, but it looked and felt and even smelled pretty much like a block of bog-standard foam I could have bought on the market for a couple of quid. Undecided, I stood there pushing and squashing it for a while, walked away then came back again and squished it some more. Surely there must be something to this memory foam thing?
Eventually, lured by a 50% discount and sheer nocturnal desperation, I bought it.
That same evening I put it on my bed and when night came I lowered my head, waiting for paradise.
It felt like a block of foam. My head sank in a bit and then stopped, so I lay there for a while, determined to give it a chance.
"Feels a lot firmer than my old pillow," I grumbled. Then I fell asleep.
My first thought when I woke up, though, was how comfortable I felt. I felt like I'd slept, too; there was no dull, slow awakening, no residual headache and my neck didn't hurt. Even now, six hours later as I sit typing, my neck feels better than it has in a long time.
Have I discovered the perfect pillow? Only time will tell, but if I have then it will have been money well spent, every penny of it. I'll report back in a few weeks, but in the meantime,
have you tried memory foam? If so, what did you think?
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
Wednesday, 16 December 2009
A Letter From The President
Recently, in the bicentennial year of Abraham Lincoln's birth, a letter sent by the famous president was sold for £36,000.
Big deal, you might say. What's so special about that? Well, what's special about this letter is not so much who sent it but who it was sent to.
You see, this letter, delivered nearly 150 years ago, was sent to an eight-year-old schoolboy.
The story is an interesting one. As a young boy, George Patten was with his journalist father when they both met the commander-in-chief. When he went back to school George excitedly reported the encounter to his classmates and teacher - but nobody took him seriously.
Mocked by his disbelieving classmates George stuck to his story to such an extent that his exasperated teacher wrote to the president. And back, by return, came a hand-written, signed letter.
It read: "Whom it may concern, I did see and talk with master George Evans Patten, last May, at Springfield, Illinois. Respectfully, A Lincoln."
What's so precious about this letter is that it was sent just two weeks after the president's inauguration. At such a time, having just become the most powerful man in the nation at a critical moment in its history, I'm sure Lincoln had many worthy things he could have devoted his energies to. I'm sure there were many important documents waiting to be read and signed, people to meet and places to go, but it says something about the man that he recognised the importance of this simple plea for help and responded, settling all doubt. Now, nobody could ever say again that George Patten had not met with Lincoln.
The parallel for us is simple yet profound. No matter how unimportant we may feel, our prayers before God carry the same weight as those uttered by the great and powerful. No matter how personal our request may seem, God never writes it off as unimportant or not worth considering. God, like Lincoln, resists the modern tendency to lump people into categories and instead sees the value of each individual. And, like Lincoln, each individual gets his undivided attention and a personal response.
So next time you get down to pray, remember Lincoln's letter and realise that the author of all time and space just put down his pen for a moment to listen to you.
Big deal, you might say. What's so special about that? Well, what's special about this letter is not so much who sent it but who it was sent to.
You see, this letter, delivered nearly 150 years ago, was sent to an eight-year-old schoolboy.
The story is an interesting one. As a young boy, George Patten was with his journalist father when they both met the commander-in-chief. When he went back to school George excitedly reported the encounter to his classmates and teacher - but nobody took him seriously.
Mocked by his disbelieving classmates George stuck to his story to such an extent that his exasperated teacher wrote to the president. And back, by return, came a hand-written, signed letter.
It read: "Whom it may concern, I did see and talk with master George Evans Patten, last May, at Springfield, Illinois. Respectfully, A Lincoln."
What's so precious about this letter is that it was sent just two weeks after the president's inauguration. At such a time, having just become the most powerful man in the nation at a critical moment in its history, I'm sure Lincoln had many worthy things he could have devoted his energies to. I'm sure there were many important documents waiting to be read and signed, people to meet and places to go, but it says something about the man that he recognised the importance of this simple plea for help and responded, settling all doubt. Now, nobody could ever say again that George Patten had not met with Lincoln.
The parallel for us is simple yet profound. No matter how unimportant we may feel, our prayers before God carry the same weight as those uttered by the great and powerful. No matter how personal our request may seem, God never writes it off as unimportant or not worth considering. God, like Lincoln, resists the modern tendency to lump people into categories and instead sees the value of each individual. And, like Lincoln, each individual gets his undivided attention and a personal response.
So next time you get down to pray, remember Lincoln's letter and realise that the author of all time and space just put down his pen for a moment to listen to you.
Monday, 16 November 2009
Procrastination
I've always been prone to procrastination. Once an item gets onto my to-do list it becomes a little indicator light winking away in the dark part of my brain, a constant ticking metronome that says "do me; do me; you know you've got to do me..." If I ignore it begins to flash faster and the voice protests "Hey! I'm still here! Do me now!" You can imagine how bad it gets if I put something off until it becomes embarrasing or critical (or both), and given my busy schedule it's small wonder that my head sometimes feels like a Christmas tree in imminent danger of meltdown.
The problem is, just because I put something off doesn't make it go away. It sits there with its other unfulfilled brethren, draining my time, resolve and energy with their incessant demands. I have to look at each one of them, sort them into priority order and then make a plan. Once I've promised myself "I'll do this next Thursday," the flashing stops and I can find the mental space to do what I'm supposed to be doing right now.
It's a problem that affects us all, particularly in today's world. The urgent can so easily overshadow the important until the urgent is all we ever do. We become driven by the tyranny of the moment, so busy putting out fires that we never get to what needs doing later - until it becomes too hot to handle. Then we have to deal with that, which means we never get round to what needs doing later, and so the cycle goes on - a mad runaway ferris wheel of doom sweeping us around so fast that we can never get off.
When we live like this the spiritual always gets neglected. That's because it never becomes urgent - until the day we die or have a nervous breakdown of course. But spiritual well-being is crucial. Where else can we find the inner resources to deal with life's demands? How else can we put our lives into context and so dedicate our time and talents to the things that really matter? No tall tower can ever be stable without a good foundation, and the higher you build the better your foundation needs to be. How much time are you investing into yours?
The problem is, just because I put something off doesn't make it go away. It sits there with its other unfulfilled brethren, draining my time, resolve and energy with their incessant demands. I have to look at each one of them, sort them into priority order and then make a plan. Once I've promised myself "I'll do this next Thursday," the flashing stops and I can find the mental space to do what I'm supposed to be doing right now.
It's a problem that affects us all, particularly in today's world. The urgent can so easily overshadow the important until the urgent is all we ever do. We become driven by the tyranny of the moment, so busy putting out fires that we never get to what needs doing later - until it becomes too hot to handle. Then we have to deal with that, which means we never get round to what needs doing later, and so the cycle goes on - a mad runaway ferris wheel of doom sweeping us around so fast that we can never get off.
When we live like this the spiritual always gets neglected. That's because it never becomes urgent - until the day we die or have a nervous breakdown of course. But spiritual well-being is crucial. Where else can we find the inner resources to deal with life's demands? How else can we put our lives into context and so dedicate our time and talents to the things that really matter? No tall tower can ever be stable without a good foundation, and the higher you build the better your foundation needs to be. How much time are you investing into yours?
Monday, 9 November 2009
Wanted - Energetic Men
"We love upright, energetic men. Pull them this way, and then that way, and the other, and they only bend, but never break. Trip them down, and in a trice they are on their feet. Bury them in the mud, and in an hour they will be out and bright. They are not ever yawning away existence, or walking about the world as if they had come into it with only half their soul; you cannot keep them down; you cannot destroy them. But for these the world would soon degenerate. They are the salt of the earth. Who but they start any noble project? They build our cities and rear our manufactories; they whiten the ocean with their sails, and they blacken the heavens with the smoke of their steam-vessels and furnace fires; they draw treasures from the deep mine; they plow the rich earth. Blessings on them! Look to them, young men, and take courage; imitate their example; catch the spirit of their energy and enterprise, and you will deserve, and no doubt command, success."
Readings for Young Men, Merchants, and Men of Business, 1866 - from www.artofmanliness.com
Readings for Young Men, Merchants, and Men of Business, 1866 - from www.artofmanliness.com
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
The Bladeless Fan
I don't know if you've seen any articles about the new 'bladeless fan' (http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/5ba62a00-b755-11de-9812-00144feab49a.html?nclick_check=1 for example), but I was challenged earlier today by a good friend to to explain how it works.
Certainly.
There are two key passages in the article:
First: "As a result, Dyson claims the bladeless fan, which works by forcing a jet of air out of a narrow circular slit and then over an aerofoil-shaped blade, is at least as efficient as its bladed counterpart, more comfortable and much safer"
Forcing air out of a narrow slit is going to speed the air up considerably, and then this faster air is going to be passed over an aerofoil shape. This is classic stuff for Bernoulli's principle which is what makes aeroplanes fly. Basically if you have a current of moving air flowing over an aerofoil (wing) shape, the air going over the curved top has further to go than the air going under the flat bottom so it has to speed up to make it to the far side in the same time.
When any moving fluid (air in this case) speeds up, Bernoulli's principle states that it's pressure goes down and vice versa. So above the wing the air is moving faster than it is below the wing, which means the pressure above the wing is lower than the pressure below it. Thus the wing experiences an upward force and voila - make the air go over the wing fast enough by whatever means and we have lift off.
Okay, so that's the background. How does this apply to the bladeless fan?
Consider the second passage: "The new fan works by drawing air into the base of the machine. The air is forced up into the loop amplifier and accelerated through the 1.3mm annular aperture, creating a jet of air that hugs the airfoil-shaped ramp. While exiting the loop amplifier, the jet pulls air from behind the fan into the airflow (inducement). At the same time, the surrounding air from the front and sides of the machine are forced into the air stream (entrainment), amplifying it 15 times. The result is a constant uninterrupted flow of cooling air."
Okay, so they got an "annular apeture". Annular means ring and for apeture read slit, so there's a slit all the way round the ring that's blowing a ring of high-speed air across the surface of the shaped ring and out the other side. We're told the air "hugs the airfoil-shaped ramp" so we know we're on the right track.
This moving air crossing the aerofoil is going to cause low pressure at that point, so there's going to be a ring of low pressure created on the rear side of the ring. This will suck air behind the fan forward and cause it to go through the ring and into the airstream - a process they call 'inducement'.
They've also got some 'entrainment' going on, and basically what they're saying here is that once this thing gets going there is a current of moving air pouring quickly out the front. Moving air equals higher speed equals lower pressure, so the quiet air surrounding this low-pressure airstream is going to be drawn into it as well, amplifying the effect.
They quote an amplification factor of fifteen times, meaning that the little blower in the handle can be fifteen times smaller than would be required to generate that amount of air movement by conventional means.
What an amazing little device!
Certainly.
There are two key passages in the article:
First: "As a result, Dyson claims the bladeless fan, which works by forcing a jet of air out of a narrow circular slit and then over an aerofoil-shaped blade, is at least as efficient as its bladed counterpart, more comfortable and much safer"
Forcing air out of a narrow slit is going to speed the air up considerably, and then this faster air is going to be passed over an aerofoil shape. This is classic stuff for Bernoulli's principle which is what makes aeroplanes fly. Basically if you have a current of moving air flowing over an aerofoil (wing) shape, the air going over the curved top has further to go than the air going under the flat bottom so it has to speed up to make it to the far side in the same time.
When any moving fluid (air in this case) speeds up, Bernoulli's principle states that it's pressure goes down and vice versa. So above the wing the air is moving faster than it is below the wing, which means the pressure above the wing is lower than the pressure below it. Thus the wing experiences an upward force and voila - make the air go over the wing fast enough by whatever means and we have lift off.
Okay, so that's the background. How does this apply to the bladeless fan?
Consider the second passage: "The new fan works by drawing air into the base of the machine. The air is forced up into the loop amplifier and accelerated through the 1.3mm annular aperture, creating a jet of air that hugs the airfoil-shaped ramp. While exiting the loop amplifier, the jet pulls air from behind the fan into the airflow (inducement). At the same time, the surrounding air from the front and sides of the machine are forced into the air stream (entrainment), amplifying it 15 times. The result is a constant uninterrupted flow of cooling air."
Okay, so they got an "annular apeture". Annular means ring and for apeture read slit, so there's a slit all the way round the ring that's blowing a ring of high-speed air across the surface of the shaped ring and out the other side. We're told the air "hugs the airfoil-shaped ramp" so we know we're on the right track.
This moving air crossing the aerofoil is going to cause low pressure at that point, so there's going to be a ring of low pressure created on the rear side of the ring. This will suck air behind the fan forward and cause it to go through the ring and into the airstream - a process they call 'inducement'.
They've also got some 'entrainment' going on, and basically what they're saying here is that once this thing gets going there is a current of moving air pouring quickly out the front. Moving air equals higher speed equals lower pressure, so the quiet air surrounding this low-pressure airstream is going to be drawn into it as well, amplifying the effect.
They quote an amplification factor of fifteen times, meaning that the little blower in the handle can be fifteen times smaller than would be required to generate that amount of air movement by conventional means.
What an amazing little device!
Wednesday, 16 September 2009
Seasons
It's that time of year again here in the UK. I realised this week when I changed back onto the early shift and woke to find it dark outside my window. The nights are drawing in, the heat has gone out of the sun and it won't be long until the dreaded season of winter has us once again in its icy grip.
I hate winter. I hate getting up in the dark, driving to work in the dark, watching the dawn from my desk and seeing night fall again all too soon from the same spot. Then I drive home in the dark and try not to feel as if every second of my 'real' day has been stolen by my employer. I hate standing in the cold and dark driveway, trying to scrape impenetrable ice from the car windscreen with a plastic scraper that always breaks, then finding as I try to drive away that I still can't see because my breath has frozen on the inside of the glass. There are some days I'm only warm when I'm in bed, and being of slim build the cold grips me to the core of my bones.
For years I used to say there were only three good things about winter: Bonfire night, Christmas and my birthday. But I was wrong. There's a fourth - winter ends!
No matter how much I hate it, the thing that keeps me going is that spring is just around the corner; that sooner or later the cold will break, the trees will bud, the garden will flower and I'll be able to throw my thermals back into the cupboard for another year.
The seasons are God's way of reminding us that dark times don't last forever and better days will come. This is true of life itself and not just the weather. If things are hard for you right now then hold on to the thought that life won't always be this way. Look ahead to good things down the road, and let their prospect cheer your soul as, like me, you ride out the winter storms
I hate winter. I hate getting up in the dark, driving to work in the dark, watching the dawn from my desk and seeing night fall again all too soon from the same spot. Then I drive home in the dark and try not to feel as if every second of my 'real' day has been stolen by my employer. I hate standing in the cold and dark driveway, trying to scrape impenetrable ice from the car windscreen with a plastic scraper that always breaks, then finding as I try to drive away that I still can't see because my breath has frozen on the inside of the glass. There are some days I'm only warm when I'm in bed, and being of slim build the cold grips me to the core of my bones.
For years I used to say there were only three good things about winter: Bonfire night, Christmas and my birthday. But I was wrong. There's a fourth - winter ends!
No matter how much I hate it, the thing that keeps me going is that spring is just around the corner; that sooner or later the cold will break, the trees will bud, the garden will flower and I'll be able to throw my thermals back into the cupboard for another year.
The seasons are God's way of reminding us that dark times don't last forever and better days will come. This is true of life itself and not just the weather. If things are hard for you right now then hold on to the thought that life won't always be this way. Look ahead to good things down the road, and let their prospect cheer your soul as, like me, you ride out the winter storms
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
It's Just Not Cricket!
Something has happened to sport these days.
While it was always the preserve of the gentleman, the Victorian era saw an expansion of this most British of activities. Driven by moral and social purpose, churchmen and visionaries of all persuasions launched movements to bring sport to the masses. Not just sport for its own sake, though, but for the changes it brought. Physical health apart, sport was seen as a way to benefit society and the wider world by improving the character of those who played. Virtues like discipline and self-reliance, co-operation and teamwork, a sense of justice and fair play and respect for the rules became the hallmarks of 'sportsmalike behaviour' and were upheld as readily by the coal miner and street urchin as the rich country gent. Wherever the British went they sought to instil the sporting ethos, and even today in many corners of the globe underhand conduct will still provoke outraged cries of "It's just not Cricket!"
How things have changed.
Today we have athletes cheating to improve their performance, financial corruption in governing bodies, the famous rants of John McEnroe against the umpire, spoiled and pouting superstars brawling outside nightclubs and so-called supporters whose main contribution is to violently hate and verbally abuse the opposition. Small wonder, then, that Rugby player Tom Williams staggered from the field with blood pouring from his mouth in the Heineken Cup on 12 April this year. Shocking, you may say; but what's more shocking is that Williams, in collusion with his coach and the team physiotherapist had faked the injury using theatrical blood so that specialist kicker Nick Evans could return to the field in the dying seconds of the game to take a crucial shot. We truly seem to have lost the essence of sportsmanship, but this incident along with many others shows there's something deeper we've lost sight of as well.
We've forgotten how to lose.
Think about it; last time you took your son or daughter to a sporting event and your team lost, how did you respond? Did you say "Well son, they played an excellent game today. We did our best but they deserved to win; let's go have a burger." Or did you rail against the stupid decisions of the 'blind' and 'biased' referee, berate the unfairness of the opposition's 'luck' while your team made all the play and blame that crucial goal on a freak gust of wind or a misplaced clod of earth? Did you even, perish the thought, accuse the other team of cheating or unsportsmanlike behaviour?
What sort of mindset will a child develop when he hears that kind of thing, game after game, from one of the most influential people in his life? What sort of adult will he grow up to be? He'll think that winning is all that matters, that the end justifies the means, and when the wheels do come off the train he won't have a clue how to deal with it.
Our example shapes the next generation. So let's teach our children to honour the achievements of others, to keep on trying and not fall prey to bitterness or cancerous self-pity. It may seem a paradox, but if we truly want our children to win in life then we desperately need to teach them how to lose.
While it was always the preserve of the gentleman, the Victorian era saw an expansion of this most British of activities. Driven by moral and social purpose, churchmen and visionaries of all persuasions launched movements to bring sport to the masses. Not just sport for its own sake, though, but for the changes it brought. Physical health apart, sport was seen as a way to benefit society and the wider world by improving the character of those who played. Virtues like discipline and self-reliance, co-operation and teamwork, a sense of justice and fair play and respect for the rules became the hallmarks of 'sportsmalike behaviour' and were upheld as readily by the coal miner and street urchin as the rich country gent. Wherever the British went they sought to instil the sporting ethos, and even today in many corners of the globe underhand conduct will still provoke outraged cries of "It's just not Cricket!"
How things have changed.
Today we have athletes cheating to improve their performance, financial corruption in governing bodies, the famous rants of John McEnroe against the umpire, spoiled and pouting superstars brawling outside nightclubs and so-called supporters whose main contribution is to violently hate and verbally abuse the opposition. Small wonder, then, that Rugby player Tom Williams staggered from the field with blood pouring from his mouth in the Heineken Cup on 12 April this year. Shocking, you may say; but what's more shocking is that Williams, in collusion with his coach and the team physiotherapist had faked the injury using theatrical blood so that specialist kicker Nick Evans could return to the field in the dying seconds of the game to take a crucial shot. We truly seem to have lost the essence of sportsmanship, but this incident along with many others shows there's something deeper we've lost sight of as well.
We've forgotten how to lose.
Think about it; last time you took your son or daughter to a sporting event and your team lost, how did you respond? Did you say "Well son, they played an excellent game today. We did our best but they deserved to win; let's go have a burger." Or did you rail against the stupid decisions of the 'blind' and 'biased' referee, berate the unfairness of the opposition's 'luck' while your team made all the play and blame that crucial goal on a freak gust of wind or a misplaced clod of earth? Did you even, perish the thought, accuse the other team of cheating or unsportsmanlike behaviour?
What sort of mindset will a child develop when he hears that kind of thing, game after game, from one of the most influential people in his life? What sort of adult will he grow up to be? He'll think that winning is all that matters, that the end justifies the means, and when the wheels do come off the train he won't have a clue how to deal with it.
Our example shapes the next generation. So let's teach our children to honour the achievements of others, to keep on trying and not fall prey to bitterness or cancerous self-pity. It may seem a paradox, but if we truly want our children to win in life then we desperately need to teach them how to lose.
Friday, 7 August 2009
U-Turns
Those of us in the UK are familiar with U-turns. Our government seems to be making them with ever increasing frequency (consider Joanna Lumley's recent victory over Gurkha's rights for example) and in these troubled times the climbdown seems set to become a national institution. We might even declare a new public holiday, "National U-Turn Day", when politicians could release all their embarrasing news safe in the knowledge that everybody else is away scoffing burgers at the beach.
A U-turn, by definition, is a fundamental change of direction. You are travelling in one direction but abandon it and select another diametrically opposed to the course you originally followed. You abandon your original goal and redirect your efforts to reach another.
We must conclude, therefore, that you realised that your original course was somehow inappropriate and your original destination unworthy of further pursuit. Even though you thought it right, you now see it was wrong and you've abandoned it to seek a better way. However you look at it, that's a fairly profound change of outlook, perception and opinion.
Imagine my shock, then, to discover such a U-turn right under my very nose. An abandoned government policy? No, I see those regularly but I would never have predicted this - the Philippic Pastor is now on Twitter!
Come on Tom, I think you owe us an explanation. You always said Twitter was for the birds but I've never known you make a decision lightly so there has to be more to this than simply following the crowd. Why the change of heart?
A U-turn, by definition, is a fundamental change of direction. You are travelling in one direction but abandon it and select another diametrically opposed to the course you originally followed. You abandon your original goal and redirect your efforts to reach another.
We must conclude, therefore, that you realised that your original course was somehow inappropriate and your original destination unworthy of further pursuit. Even though you thought it right, you now see it was wrong and you've abandoned it to seek a better way. However you look at it, that's a fairly profound change of outlook, perception and opinion.
Imagine my shock, then, to discover such a U-turn right under my very nose. An abandoned government policy? No, I see those regularly but I would never have predicted this - the Philippic Pastor is now on Twitter!
Come on Tom, I think you owe us an explanation. You always said Twitter was for the birds but I've never known you make a decision lightly so there has to be more to this than simply following the crowd. Why the change of heart?
Thursday, 30 July 2009
Spare a Thought for the Unicorns
An atheist summer camp in Somerset is offering children aged seven to 17 a "godless alternative" to religious camps traditionally run by the scouts and church groups, the BBC reports. Camp Quest, according to its promoters, is "dedicated to improving the human condition through rational inquiry, critical and creative thinking, scientific method… and the separation of religion and government".
That doesn't sound too bad - until, that is, you take a look at the centrepiece of the week's activities.
As the principal task of the week the camp asks its participants to search for two invisible unicorns. The unicorns cannot be seen or heard, tasted, smelt or touched, they cannot escape from the camp and they eat nothing. The only proof of their existence is contained in an ancient book handed down over "countless generations". A prize - a £10 note signed by Professor Richard Dawkins - is offered to any child who can disprove the existence of the unicorns.
That sounds really open-minded, doesn't it? Even if you look beyond the thinly-veiled and vaguely mocking allusions to the Bible and to God, the fact that the children are challenged to disprove the unicorns' existence suggests to me that their minds have already been seeded with the appropriate outcome. Sorry to rain on the parade, but that's not scientific. True science looks objectively at the whole body of evidence and seeks to draw meaning from it without making prior assumptions. If you decide something is or isn't true before you start you'll just end up gathering evidence that supports your theory.
Then, of course, there's the prize. The glorious reward for giving up the treasures of a life of faith, the security of unconditional love and comfort in the face of death is one miserable ten-quid note defaced by Richard Dawkins. That's not much of an exchange.
But look deeper - money is a man-made concept, it gives a false sense of security yet is inherently unreliable, it promotes arrogance, pride and amoral living, and ultimately it never satisfies. Maybe it's an appropriate reward after all.
That doesn't sound too bad - until, that is, you take a look at the centrepiece of the week's activities.
As the principal task of the week the camp asks its participants to search for two invisible unicorns. The unicorns cannot be seen or heard, tasted, smelt or touched, they cannot escape from the camp and they eat nothing. The only proof of their existence is contained in an ancient book handed down over "countless generations". A prize - a £10 note signed by Professor Richard Dawkins - is offered to any child who can disprove the existence of the unicorns.
That sounds really open-minded, doesn't it? Even if you look beyond the thinly-veiled and vaguely mocking allusions to the Bible and to God, the fact that the children are challenged to disprove the unicorns' existence suggests to me that their minds have already been seeded with the appropriate outcome. Sorry to rain on the parade, but that's not scientific. True science looks objectively at the whole body of evidence and seeks to draw meaning from it without making prior assumptions. If you decide something is or isn't true before you start you'll just end up gathering evidence that supports your theory.
Then, of course, there's the prize. The glorious reward for giving up the treasures of a life of faith, the security of unconditional love and comfort in the face of death is one miserable ten-quid note defaced by Richard Dawkins. That's not much of an exchange.
But look deeper - money is a man-made concept, it gives a false sense of security yet is inherently unreliable, it promotes arrogance, pride and amoral living, and ultimately it never satisfies. Maybe it's an appropriate reward after all.
Thursday, 16 July 2009
The Eagle has Landed
Today is the 40th anniversary of the historic Apollo 11 moon landing, an amazing achievement for all mankind that still captures the imagination. Most people's thoughts will be on Neil Armstrong's historic descent of the ladder and that immortal phrase spoken from the last hesitant rung, "That's one small step for a man...".
But for me there's something about the moon landing that's even greater. To place that one individual at the foot of that ladder took over 400,000 men and women from every trade and discipline, all working together to achieve something that had never been done before and that many considered impossible.
But they did it anyway; from President Kennedy who set the challenge through Gene Kranz the mission controller, the flight surgeons, spacesuit designers, meterologists, communications engineers, rocket fuel chemists, machine shop workers, accountants, administrators, secretaries and the people who made the tea, every one of them contributed something vital to the mission's success. Despite the setbacks and the tragedies - like the launchpad fire that killed the three astronauts testing Apollo 1 - they pressed on and fought through until the dream was fulfilled. Though Armstrong stepped alone onto the moon in reality he was never alone - there were 400,000 others with him and he rode there on the shoulders of giants.
The Apollo programme shows that no matter how crazy the dream, nothing is impossible. If we truly work together to make it happen, becoming part of something greater than ourselves, then there's nothing we cannot do. And if it ever falls to us to stand upon the pinnacle of success, let us honour the labour, vision and sacrifice of those who paved the way before us and made it all possible
But for me there's something about the moon landing that's even greater. To place that one individual at the foot of that ladder took over 400,000 men and women from every trade and discipline, all working together to achieve something that had never been done before and that many considered impossible.
But they did it anyway; from President Kennedy who set the challenge through Gene Kranz the mission controller, the flight surgeons, spacesuit designers, meterologists, communications engineers, rocket fuel chemists, machine shop workers, accountants, administrators, secretaries and the people who made the tea, every one of them contributed something vital to the mission's success. Despite the setbacks and the tragedies - like the launchpad fire that killed the three astronauts testing Apollo 1 - they pressed on and fought through until the dream was fulfilled. Though Armstrong stepped alone onto the moon in reality he was never alone - there were 400,000 others with him and he rode there on the shoulders of giants.
The Apollo programme shows that no matter how crazy the dream, nothing is impossible. If we truly work together to make it happen, becoming part of something greater than ourselves, then there's nothing we cannot do. And if it ever falls to us to stand upon the pinnacle of success, let us honour the labour, vision and sacrifice of those who paved the way before us and made it all possible
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
Only a little job...
Many people who read my blog comment that The Bishop seems to have an answer for everything, and I know some people view me as some sort of spiritual swan, gliding calm and serene over the deep and muddy waters of daily living without any apparent effort.
I wish.
I've been spending all my time recently installing a new bathroom at home and it has been an absolute nightmare. Why is it that when you look at a job and judge the time, effort, cost and complexity involved that you always, always underestimate? That's one question The Bishop does not have an answer for, but I can offer you plenty of empirical evidence to prove that it's true.
The concept was simple enough. Break off all the old wall and ceiling tiles. Tidy up the surfaces. Rip out the old (and I mean old) bath, toilet and basin. Retile the room. Reinstall new bath, toilet and basin. Run hot water and enjoy.
In your dreams, mate!
The start of the job coincided with the best heatwave the UK has seen in years. So, wielding a club hammer and chisel in a hot, confined space the sweat was literally dripping off me. The tiles came off easily enough though, with nothing worse to show for it than a few shrapnel wounds and a massive bruise where I missed the chisel altogether and smashed the side of my hand with the hammer. I was pretty proud of my progress until my builder friend had a look and said the underlying plaster wasn't in good enough condition for retiling so it too had to come off - right down to the brick. Cue even more hammering, chiselling and sweating; and just when I thought I'd finished.
Then the toilet and basin came out and were dumped unceremoniously on the drive, the basin being whisked away shortly thereafter and without permission by a couple of scrounging itinerant scrap dealers in a clapped-out blue van. No problem though - we have a second toilet downstairs so I assured my family we would only be without our main facilites for a day or two; three at the most.
With hindsight, that was one of the most stupid things I've ever said. I forgot a key universal law; one which the Bible reveals in Job 5:7, "Man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward." Modern thinkers restate this as the well-known maxim "If the most inconvenient thing can go wrong in the most inconvenient place at the most inconvenient time, in the most inconvenient way, with the most inconvenient consequences - it will!"
And, of course, it did.
I was at work the next day when my builder friend popped in to rip out the bath, and it wasn't long before I got the fateful phone call. "Are you at work? We've got a slight problem here..."
I could see what it was when I got home. Whoever had installed the bath had routed one of the main pipes for the heating system through the supporting brackets meaning the pipe would have to be taken out and re-routed before the bath could be removed. The water would have to go off, but it wouldn't be for long.
You know what's coming, don't you?
I turned the water off, drained everything, we cut the pipe and out came the bath. So far so good. Then we nipped off to the DIY store to buy all the fittings and accessories to restore the pipe and connect up the new bath. By now it was seven in the evening so we pressed on with the pipework. By eight thirty we'd finished so I went to turn on the water.
It leaked.
We decided we'd been unlucky and used a faulty fitting so we cut it all off and redid it.
It leaked.
We did it a third time. Do I have to tell you what happened, or are you getting the idea?
By now it was coming up to ten pm, I had neither hot nor cold water in the taps (though plenty on the floor and dripping down through the kitchen ceiling) and the bowl of water my wife had thoughtfully filled before I started my 'half-hour job' was now empty. We were out of fittings and all the shops were closed. In desperation we borrowed some pipe and another fitting from a neighbour but to no avail. By eleven thirty pm two things were clear. One, I was exhausted. And two, we were going to be without water overnight.
Somehow, next morning, myself and five females managed to wash and squeeze a cup of tea out of a second bowl of water I had to beg from my neighbour. I was outside the DIY store by seven am, waiting for it to open. This time, like a seasoned professional, I went for the push-fit plastic fittings. I hurried home, chopped off the leaking pipework (again), redid it and it worked!! Oh, transport of ineffable joy, we had cold running water again! All I had to do now was refill the heating system and we'd have hot water too.
So I did. And it leaked.
By now I was out of time again so I hurried off to work leaving my wife with no hot water for the day. I'd learned my lesson though, so I went back to the DIY store in my lunchbreak and made short work of the problem once I got home. Hot and cold restored - I was truly the man with the plan. Until, that is, I turned on the water to the new bath which by now had been placed in the corner of the empty room. It, of course, leaked.
This time though it was the flexible connector on the cold tap that was defective. I would have to get it replaced but again the shops were now closed and it would have to wait until tomorrow. But at least we had hot and cold running water, albeit not in the same room as the bath, so it felt like progress.
The next evening when I got home from work I stepped bravely into the valley once again to confront my Goliath. Unlike David, however, mine seemed to have the disconcerting habit of getting back up and having to be killed all over again on a daily basis. I was right that the tap connector was faulty. And so was the next one I was given. And the next. And the next. Four faulty ones in a row - each one wasting an hour and a half for the fitting, test, furious disassembly and trip for another replacement. I was out of time again, the water had been off for a second day, and I wasn't amused.
Next morning the fifth one worked and the pipework was complete - just in time for my friend to tell me a previous job was dragging on and he wouldn't be able to plasterboard my walls that day after all. I was now five days into the job, with the tiler due to start work tomorrow and a bathroom consisting of a bare brick box with a lightbulb dangling from the ceiling and a bath in one corner. However my friend knew a man who would board me the walls and plaster the ceiling for sixty quid. I was out of options so I told him to give him a call.
When I got home, the walls were boarded and ceiling plastered and he'd done a good job. However he'd had to remove the bathroom door so now taking a bath aquired a whole new racy element of courage. You can imagine how popular that was with the ladies in the house.
Next day the tiler arrived and duly set to work. However he too had underestimated the scale of the task and by Friday was only half done. My plans to install the toilet and basin over the weekend were fading, but he offered to stay late on Friday night and then come back to finish the job on Saturday.
On Saturday morning, however, he phoned to say his young son had been sick all night and he wouldn't now be able to come until Monday. So the bathroom stood, half-tiled and doorless, for the rest of the weekend.
The tiler returned on Monday and worked all day. On Monday evening he told me he'd forgotten to include the cost of tiling the floor in his original estimate and would I pay him some more? But the good news was, he would finish by Tuesday. I also needed to buy another box of my feature mosiac tiles as he'd used them all by putting a full-width strip above the bath despite my explicit instruction to the contrary and therefore now didn't have any left to run the strip above the basin. Cue another trip to the shops for a box of five mosaic tiles at £35 per box, only one of which would be required.
It is now Wednesday, two and a half weeks in. Last night I trimmed the bathroom door to the new size and hung it, plus the shower over the bath is now back in place and working. All I have to do now is seal round the bath, box in and tile the section at the end, fit the shower screen, install the toilet and basin and fix the downlighters into the ceiling.
Once all that is finished I already know what I'm going to do next.
Nothing!
I wish.
I've been spending all my time recently installing a new bathroom at home and it has been an absolute nightmare. Why is it that when you look at a job and judge the time, effort, cost and complexity involved that you always, always underestimate? That's one question The Bishop does not have an answer for, but I can offer you plenty of empirical evidence to prove that it's true.
The concept was simple enough. Break off all the old wall and ceiling tiles. Tidy up the surfaces. Rip out the old (and I mean old) bath, toilet and basin. Retile the room. Reinstall new bath, toilet and basin. Run hot water and enjoy.
In your dreams, mate!
The start of the job coincided with the best heatwave the UK has seen in years. So, wielding a club hammer and chisel in a hot, confined space the sweat was literally dripping off me. The tiles came off easily enough though, with nothing worse to show for it than a few shrapnel wounds and a massive bruise where I missed the chisel altogether and smashed the side of my hand with the hammer. I was pretty proud of my progress until my builder friend had a look and said the underlying plaster wasn't in good enough condition for retiling so it too had to come off - right down to the brick. Cue even more hammering, chiselling and sweating; and just when I thought I'd finished.
Then the toilet and basin came out and were dumped unceremoniously on the drive, the basin being whisked away shortly thereafter and without permission by a couple of scrounging itinerant scrap dealers in a clapped-out blue van. No problem though - we have a second toilet downstairs so I assured my family we would only be without our main facilites for a day or two; three at the most.
With hindsight, that was one of the most stupid things I've ever said. I forgot a key universal law; one which the Bible reveals in Job 5:7, "Man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward." Modern thinkers restate this as the well-known maxim "If the most inconvenient thing can go wrong in the most inconvenient place at the most inconvenient time, in the most inconvenient way, with the most inconvenient consequences - it will!"
And, of course, it did.
I was at work the next day when my builder friend popped in to rip out the bath, and it wasn't long before I got the fateful phone call. "Are you at work? We've got a slight problem here..."
I could see what it was when I got home. Whoever had installed the bath had routed one of the main pipes for the heating system through the supporting brackets meaning the pipe would have to be taken out and re-routed before the bath could be removed. The water would have to go off, but it wouldn't be for long.
You know what's coming, don't you?
I turned the water off, drained everything, we cut the pipe and out came the bath. So far so good. Then we nipped off to the DIY store to buy all the fittings and accessories to restore the pipe and connect up the new bath. By now it was seven in the evening so we pressed on with the pipework. By eight thirty we'd finished so I went to turn on the water.
It leaked.
We decided we'd been unlucky and used a faulty fitting so we cut it all off and redid it.
It leaked.
We did it a third time. Do I have to tell you what happened, or are you getting the idea?
By now it was coming up to ten pm, I had neither hot nor cold water in the taps (though plenty on the floor and dripping down through the kitchen ceiling) and the bowl of water my wife had thoughtfully filled before I started my 'half-hour job' was now empty. We were out of fittings and all the shops were closed. In desperation we borrowed some pipe and another fitting from a neighbour but to no avail. By eleven thirty pm two things were clear. One, I was exhausted. And two, we were going to be without water overnight.
Somehow, next morning, myself and five females managed to wash and squeeze a cup of tea out of a second bowl of water I had to beg from my neighbour. I was outside the DIY store by seven am, waiting for it to open. This time, like a seasoned professional, I went for the push-fit plastic fittings. I hurried home, chopped off the leaking pipework (again), redid it and it worked!! Oh, transport of ineffable joy, we had cold running water again! All I had to do now was refill the heating system and we'd have hot water too.
So I did. And it leaked.
By now I was out of time again so I hurried off to work leaving my wife with no hot water for the day. I'd learned my lesson though, so I went back to the DIY store in my lunchbreak and made short work of the problem once I got home. Hot and cold restored - I was truly the man with the plan. Until, that is, I turned on the water to the new bath which by now had been placed in the corner of the empty room. It, of course, leaked.
This time though it was the flexible connector on the cold tap that was defective. I would have to get it replaced but again the shops were now closed and it would have to wait until tomorrow. But at least we had hot and cold running water, albeit not in the same room as the bath, so it felt like progress.
The next evening when I got home from work I stepped bravely into the valley once again to confront my Goliath. Unlike David, however, mine seemed to have the disconcerting habit of getting back up and having to be killed all over again on a daily basis. I was right that the tap connector was faulty. And so was the next one I was given. And the next. And the next. Four faulty ones in a row - each one wasting an hour and a half for the fitting, test, furious disassembly and trip for another replacement. I was out of time again, the water had been off for a second day, and I wasn't amused.
Next morning the fifth one worked and the pipework was complete - just in time for my friend to tell me a previous job was dragging on and he wouldn't be able to plasterboard my walls that day after all. I was now five days into the job, with the tiler due to start work tomorrow and a bathroom consisting of a bare brick box with a lightbulb dangling from the ceiling and a bath in one corner. However my friend knew a man who would board me the walls and plaster the ceiling for sixty quid. I was out of options so I told him to give him a call.
When I got home, the walls were boarded and ceiling plastered and he'd done a good job. However he'd had to remove the bathroom door so now taking a bath aquired a whole new racy element of courage. You can imagine how popular that was with the ladies in the house.
Next day the tiler arrived and duly set to work. However he too had underestimated the scale of the task and by Friday was only half done. My plans to install the toilet and basin over the weekend were fading, but he offered to stay late on Friday night and then come back to finish the job on Saturday.
On Saturday morning, however, he phoned to say his young son had been sick all night and he wouldn't now be able to come until Monday. So the bathroom stood, half-tiled and doorless, for the rest of the weekend.
The tiler returned on Monday and worked all day. On Monday evening he told me he'd forgotten to include the cost of tiling the floor in his original estimate and would I pay him some more? But the good news was, he would finish by Tuesday. I also needed to buy another box of my feature mosiac tiles as he'd used them all by putting a full-width strip above the bath despite my explicit instruction to the contrary and therefore now didn't have any left to run the strip above the basin. Cue another trip to the shops for a box of five mosaic tiles at £35 per box, only one of which would be required.
It is now Wednesday, two and a half weeks in. Last night I trimmed the bathroom door to the new size and hung it, plus the shower over the bath is now back in place and working. All I have to do now is seal round the bath, box in and tile the section at the end, fit the shower screen, install the toilet and basin and fix the downlighters into the ceiling.
Once all that is finished I already know what I'm going to do next.
Nothing!
Sunday, 31 May 2009
Life Without Jack
You might have noticed I've been absent from the blogosphere for a little while. That's because I've had a difficult few weeks culminating in the unfortunate loss of our little dog Jack.
He was a great guy, a loyal little terrier cross who lived life head-on and brough a lot of enjoyment into our lives in the short time he was with us. Unfortunately he became suddenly very ill last week and after a hasty consultation with the vet was whisked away for emergency surgery for a blocked small intestine. It seemed the vet had saved his bacon, but unfortunately the problem had taken its toll and despite everyone's best efforts we lost him yesterday.
The house seems very quiet. The postman visits unchallenged. There's nobody trying to climb onto my laptop as I type. No reason to go for a late night walk anymore before we turn in. It's shocking just how keenly his absence has impacted our lives in so many small but significant ways, and it's reminded me of a profound truth I so often forget.
You don't realise what you've got until it's gone.
I'm glad we had the time we did with our little dog, and if there's one thing he's taught me it's this: rejoice in every relationship you have. Enjoy them, commit yourself fully and make the most of every moment of sunshine. Because to love and be loved are the most important things in life, and so often we don't realise that until it's too late.
Is there a friendship you need to patch up? A relationship you've been neglecting? Have the important people in your life become merely obstacles to be stepped around as you struggle to meet your schedule? Slow down, savour each moment and get your priorities right.
Oh yes, and always face whatever life throws at you with a wagging tail.
He was a great guy, a loyal little terrier cross who lived life head-on and brough a lot of enjoyment into our lives in the short time he was with us. Unfortunately he became suddenly very ill last week and after a hasty consultation with the vet was whisked away for emergency surgery for a blocked small intestine. It seemed the vet had saved his bacon, but unfortunately the problem had taken its toll and despite everyone's best efforts we lost him yesterday.
The house seems very quiet. The postman visits unchallenged. There's nobody trying to climb onto my laptop as I type. No reason to go for a late night walk anymore before we turn in. It's shocking just how keenly his absence has impacted our lives in so many small but significant ways, and it's reminded me of a profound truth I so often forget.
You don't realise what you've got until it's gone.
I'm glad we had the time we did with our little dog, and if there's one thing he's taught me it's this: rejoice in every relationship you have. Enjoy them, commit yourself fully and make the most of every moment of sunshine. Because to love and be loved are the most important things in life, and so often we don't realise that until it's too late.
Is there a friendship you need to patch up? A relationship you've been neglecting? Have the important people in your life become merely obstacles to be stepped around as you struggle to meet your schedule? Slow down, savour each moment and get your priorities right.
Oh yes, and always face whatever life throws at you with a wagging tail.
Friday, 8 May 2009
An Expensive Business
More revelations have emerged today about MP's expenses. The Daily Telegraph has published detailed accounts of the expenses claims of some of our top politicians with the promise of more to come, and what we already have makes interesting reading.
Several senior MPs are on record as having claimed twice for the same item or having claimed the full price for their Council Tax from which they then obtained a substantial rebate at the taxpayer's expense. Apparently these were 'mistakes' that were put right by the individuals concerned, but it makes me wonder how people we trust to manage billions of pounds of public money, our national security and our economic and social well-being can't handle such a simple matter as their own expenses claim.
It's also interesting that the mistakes were only corrected recently, which of course has nothing whatever to do with the current upsurge in public scrutiny. Other revelations include politicians switching homes so they could claim more in renovation expenses and furnishing grants. One well-known MP is said to have claimed on three different properties in one year and spent £5000 of public money on furnishings in just three months. And, of course, we can't fail to remember the outcry over the MP that claimed for two pornographic films and a new bath plug.
The most shocking thing is that when challenged over these excesses the MPs involved invariably respond "I have done nothing wrong; I haven't broken any of the rules". Perhaps not, but what about the rule of being seen to act with integrity and honesty while in a position of privilege and trust? It astounds me that our politicians are now wringing their hands over why the public has so little faith in them and wondering why they are "failing to get their message across."
Hmm. I can think of a couple of reasons.
Several senior MPs are on record as having claimed twice for the same item or having claimed the full price for their Council Tax from which they then obtained a substantial rebate at the taxpayer's expense. Apparently these were 'mistakes' that were put right by the individuals concerned, but it makes me wonder how people we trust to manage billions of pounds of public money, our national security and our economic and social well-being can't handle such a simple matter as their own expenses claim.
It's also interesting that the mistakes were only corrected recently, which of course has nothing whatever to do with the current upsurge in public scrutiny. Other revelations include politicians switching homes so they could claim more in renovation expenses and furnishing grants. One well-known MP is said to have claimed on three different properties in one year and spent £5000 of public money on furnishings in just three months. And, of course, we can't fail to remember the outcry over the MP that claimed for two pornographic films and a new bath plug.
The most shocking thing is that when challenged over these excesses the MPs involved invariably respond "I have done nothing wrong; I haven't broken any of the rules". Perhaps not, but what about the rule of being seen to act with integrity and honesty while in a position of privilege and trust? It astounds me that our politicians are now wringing their hands over why the public has so little faith in them and wondering why they are "failing to get their message across."
Hmm. I can think of a couple of reasons.
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Bigotry and Intolerance
I was somewhat dismayed today by a BBC News article on Sunday's televised Miss USA competition. During the contest Carrie Prejean - Miss California - was asked for her views on same-sex marriage by one of the judges, celebrity blogger Perez Hilton. She replied, "We live in a land where you can choose same-sex marriage or opposite marriage. I believe that a marriage should be between a man and a woman. No offence to anybody out there, but that's how I was raised."
Those aren't words I have a problem with. As the transcript clearly shows, Miss Prejean wasn't attacking anyone; she simply stated her personal opinion in a polite and respectful way in response to a direct question.
No, what bothers me is the reaction she got.
Hilton said he was "floored" by Ms Prejean's answer, which, he said, "alienated millions of gay and lesbian Americans, their families and their supporters". What!? I'm sorry Mr Hilton, but just because an individual differs from you doesn't give you grounds to say their identity alienates a whole section of society. I'm white, but I don't feel alienated because America chose a 'black' president. I'm heterosexual, but I don't feel alienated because someone else chooses to be gay. I'm a Christian, but I don't feel alienated when other people disagree with my views.
Mr Hilton, and those who hurried to agree with him, clearly have a problem here. Their rhetoric is far more reminiscent of a petulant, pouting child in a primary school playground than visionaries seeking to lead the ignorant from darkness into light. Campaigners for gay rights have spoken out passionately for many years against bigotry and intolerance, yet here we see them committing the very same sins they have condemned in others for so long. I'm afraid that rather undermines the credibility of your comment, Mr Hilton.
Needless to say, Miss California didn't become Miss USA, but in my view she still left the contest a winner. "It did cost me my crown," she said after the competition, "but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I said what I feel. I stated an opinion that was true to myself and that's all I can do."
What should she have said, Mr Hilton? Would you have given her more points if she'd prostituted herself for the crown and told you what you wanted to hear? What kind of a judge would that have made you? Integrity used to be prized, a precious diadem of virue crowning any young woman's character. But when people trample it underfoot to further their own agenda in the midst of a beauty pageant that's the ugliest thing you could ever hope to see.
Those aren't words I have a problem with. As the transcript clearly shows, Miss Prejean wasn't attacking anyone; she simply stated her personal opinion in a polite and respectful way in response to a direct question.
No, what bothers me is the reaction she got.
Hilton said he was "floored" by Ms Prejean's answer, which, he said, "alienated millions of gay and lesbian Americans, their families and their supporters". What!? I'm sorry Mr Hilton, but just because an individual differs from you doesn't give you grounds to say their identity alienates a whole section of society. I'm white, but I don't feel alienated because America chose a 'black' president. I'm heterosexual, but I don't feel alienated because someone else chooses to be gay. I'm a Christian, but I don't feel alienated when other people disagree with my views.
Mr Hilton, and those who hurried to agree with him, clearly have a problem here. Their rhetoric is far more reminiscent of a petulant, pouting child in a primary school playground than visionaries seeking to lead the ignorant from darkness into light. Campaigners for gay rights have spoken out passionately for many years against bigotry and intolerance, yet here we see them committing the very same sins they have condemned in others for so long. I'm afraid that rather undermines the credibility of your comment, Mr Hilton.
Needless to say, Miss California didn't become Miss USA, but in my view she still left the contest a winner. "It did cost me my crown," she said after the competition, "but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I said what I feel. I stated an opinion that was true to myself and that's all I can do."
What should she have said, Mr Hilton? Would you have given her more points if she'd prostituted herself for the crown and told you what you wanted to hear? What kind of a judge would that have made you? Integrity used to be prized, a precious diadem of virue crowning any young woman's character. But when people trample it underfoot to further their own agenda in the midst of a beauty pageant that's the ugliest thing you could ever hope to see.
Sunday, 19 April 2009
Is Global Warming Just Hot Air?
As someone with a scientific and engineering background one of the things that really gets my goat is when so-called experts publish just one side of a story as if it were the whole truth. Politicians and social activists love black-and-white statements because they can use them to motivate people. But ask any engineer who understands the topic and he'll usually shake his head and say, "I'm afraid it's not that simple..."
Global warming is a case in point. We the public are fed a regular diet of sea-level rise, irreversible climate change and man-made meterological catastrophe. "Global warming is a reality and it's all man-made," our leaders scream. "We must all fly less, pay more for our petrol, reduce our carbon footprint and use less plastic bags." Plastic bags? That's just one example of how a side issue gets tacked onto the main argument and whipped up into a campaign bandwagon for political ends. Yes, plastic bags pollute the environment and endanger wildlife. But they don't cause global warming any more than any other manufactured product does.
The truth is, the whole issue is not as simple as the green machine would have us believe. Yes, there is some evidence that things are changing, but there is also a host of evidence that this could well be just part of the natural cycle of things and far less man-made than we have been led to believe. For example, you might remember recent reports by 'experts' that the Antarctic ice sheet is melting on an unprecedented scale and that as a result we are likely to suffer catastrophic sea level rises of up to six metres by the year 2100. Only last week the Australian Environment Minister Peter Garrett echoed this, insisting that global warming was causing ice losses throughout Antarctica. "I don't think there's any doubt it is contributing to what we've seen both on the Wilkins shelf and more generally in Antarctica," he said.
Unfortunately, he's a politican; and what you won't have heard about is the other information recently released by the Head of the Australian Antarctic Division's Glaciology Program, Ian Allinson. He reports that sea ice losses in west Antarctica over the past 30 years have been more than offset by ice increases in the Ross Sea region, just one sector of east Antarctica. "Sea ice conditions have remained stable in Antarctica generally," Dr Allison says. He also says there is no evidence of significant change in the mass of ice shelves in east Antarctica nor any indication that its ice cap was melting. "The only significant calvings [icebergs breaking away] in Antarctica have been in the west," he said. And he says that even those might not be unusual. "Ice shelves in general have episodic carvings and there can be large icebergs breaking off - I'm talking 100km or 200km long - every 10 or 20 or 50 years."
Interesting eh?
Ice core drilling off Australia's Davis Station in East Antarctica by the Antarctic Climate and Ecosystems Co-Operative Research Centre shows that last year, the ice had a maximum thickness of 1.89m, its densest in 10 years. The average thickness of the ice at Davis from the 1950s until now is 1.67m.
Want more? A paper to be published soon by the British Antarctic Survey in the journal Geophysical Research Letters is expected to confirm that over the past 30 years, the area of sea ice around the continent has expanded. And let's not forget the Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research's report, prepared for last week's Antarctic Treaty meeting in Washington, which noted the South Pole has experienced "significant cooling in recent decades". How come they never mentioned that bit on the news?
The reality is, the whole global warming question is not as simple as it's made out to be and there is a wealth of information that doesn't fit in with today's political and social agenda so it's simply not reported. We need to be careful not to blindly swallow everything the 'experts' tell us, because the facts show that sometimes what they're telling us isn't science - it's propaganda.
Global warming is a case in point. We the public are fed a regular diet of sea-level rise, irreversible climate change and man-made meterological catastrophe. "Global warming is a reality and it's all man-made," our leaders scream. "We must all fly less, pay more for our petrol, reduce our carbon footprint and use less plastic bags." Plastic bags? That's just one example of how a side issue gets tacked onto the main argument and whipped up into a campaign bandwagon for political ends. Yes, plastic bags pollute the environment and endanger wildlife. But they don't cause global warming any more than any other manufactured product does.
The truth is, the whole issue is not as simple as the green machine would have us believe. Yes, there is some evidence that things are changing, but there is also a host of evidence that this could well be just part of the natural cycle of things and far less man-made than we have been led to believe. For example, you might remember recent reports by 'experts' that the Antarctic ice sheet is melting on an unprecedented scale and that as a result we are likely to suffer catastrophic sea level rises of up to six metres by the year 2100. Only last week the Australian Environment Minister Peter Garrett echoed this, insisting that global warming was causing ice losses throughout Antarctica. "I don't think there's any doubt it is contributing to what we've seen both on the Wilkins shelf and more generally in Antarctica," he said.
Unfortunately, he's a politican; and what you won't have heard about is the other information recently released by the Head of the Australian Antarctic Division's Glaciology Program, Ian Allinson. He reports that sea ice losses in west Antarctica over the past 30 years have been more than offset by ice increases in the Ross Sea region, just one sector of east Antarctica. "Sea ice conditions have remained stable in Antarctica generally," Dr Allison says. He also says there is no evidence of significant change in the mass of ice shelves in east Antarctica nor any indication that its ice cap was melting. "The only significant calvings [icebergs breaking away] in Antarctica have been in the west," he said. And he says that even those might not be unusual. "Ice shelves in general have episodic carvings and there can be large icebergs breaking off - I'm talking 100km or 200km long - every 10 or 20 or 50 years."
Interesting eh?
Ice core drilling off Australia's Davis Station in East Antarctica by the Antarctic Climate and Ecosystems Co-Operative Research Centre shows that last year, the ice had a maximum thickness of 1.89m, its densest in 10 years. The average thickness of the ice at Davis from the 1950s until now is 1.67m.
Want more? A paper to be published soon by the British Antarctic Survey in the journal Geophysical Research Letters is expected to confirm that over the past 30 years, the area of sea ice around the continent has expanded. And let's not forget the Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research's report, prepared for last week's Antarctic Treaty meeting in Washington, which noted the South Pole has experienced "significant cooling in recent decades". How come they never mentioned that bit on the news?
The reality is, the whole global warming question is not as simple as it's made out to be and there is a wealth of information that doesn't fit in with today's political and social agenda so it's simply not reported. We need to be careful not to blindly swallow everything the 'experts' tell us, because the facts show that sometimes what they're telling us isn't science - it's propaganda.
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
Little Things
I've had a rotten cold for the last few days. It came out of nowhere; I went to bed feeling fine then woke in the night thinking, "My throat is on fire!" The rest, as they say, is history.
Everyone knows these things are caused by viruses, and a biochemist friend of mine told me a few things about them. Apparently a virus is a fragment of DNA that can infiltrate the resident DNA in a cell, effectively hijacking it to perform its own evil will. I often ask my friend if he's found a cure yet for the common cold but he replies that it's not that easy. Even though a virus is just a shred of DNA the part of that shred that causes us problems is smaller still and mutates constantly, making any classical drug obsolete the moment it is designed. The challenge is to find a way to target the stable 'carrier' part of the virus DNA - without killing everything else in the process.
It's sobering to think that a six-foot-one 13 stone alpha-male in superb physical condition (okay, that last part might be a slight exaggeration) can be brought low by a foe so small you'd need an electron microscope to see it, but I can assure you it's true. So often it's the smallest things that cause our biggest problems. Thoughtless words and actions can be the wedge that splinters a marriage. Just a little compromise with sin can explode to destroy your credibility and wreck your destiny. And how many times has spiritual laziness and indifference left me wondering what happened to the presence of God?
There is an old proverb in Yorkshire which says, "Take care of the pennies, and the pounds will take care of themselves". Success as a Christian does not come by mission statements, strategic plans or great visionary intentions. It is achieved daily, amid the cut-and-thrust of life by a series of seemingly insignificant decisions to do the right thing.
Everyone knows these things are caused by viruses, and a biochemist friend of mine told me a few things about them. Apparently a virus is a fragment of DNA that can infiltrate the resident DNA in a cell, effectively hijacking it to perform its own evil will. I often ask my friend if he's found a cure yet for the common cold but he replies that it's not that easy. Even though a virus is just a shred of DNA the part of that shred that causes us problems is smaller still and mutates constantly, making any classical drug obsolete the moment it is designed. The challenge is to find a way to target the stable 'carrier' part of the virus DNA - without killing everything else in the process.
It's sobering to think that a six-foot-one 13 stone alpha-male in superb physical condition (okay, that last part might be a slight exaggeration) can be brought low by a foe so small you'd need an electron microscope to see it, but I can assure you it's true. So often it's the smallest things that cause our biggest problems. Thoughtless words and actions can be the wedge that splinters a marriage. Just a little compromise with sin can explode to destroy your credibility and wreck your destiny. And how many times has spiritual laziness and indifference left me wondering what happened to the presence of God?
There is an old proverb in Yorkshire which says, "Take care of the pennies, and the pounds will take care of themselves". Success as a Christian does not come by mission statements, strategic plans or great visionary intentions. It is achieved daily, amid the cut-and-thrust of life by a series of seemingly insignificant decisions to do the right thing.
Monday, 23 March 2009
The Tomb that Speaks to the Living
In the quiet of Westminster Abbey in London, tucked away among the final resting places of generals, kings and statesmen is the grave of a young woman named Mary Beaufoy. I found this memorial years ago while exploring the Abbey and the memory of it, along with the photographs I took on that day, have remained with me ever since.
The reason? This grave speaks to the living.
Mary Beaufoy was the only daughter and heiress of Sir Henry Beaufoy, of Guyscliffe, near Warwick, and the Hon. Charlotte Lane, eldest daughter of George Lord Viscount Lansborough. Standing there in the Abbey's stillness, looking at this tomb, it isn't too hard to imagine how the hopes and dreams of Sir Henry and Lady Charlotte were bound up in this one precious child. She would have been their laughter, their joy, and the quiet confidence that one day their title and lineage would pass to another. But Mary died on July 12, 1705, aged just 28, and their hopes died with her.
Such was the impact of this tragedy, and yet through her grief and loss Lady Charlotte resolved that her daughter's death would not be in vain. The tomb she commissioned at the hand of the famous woodcarver Grinling Gibbons bears a striking message, one which stopped me in my tracks all those years ago and one which I pray will speak to you too.
This is what it says:
"Reader! whoever thou art, let the sight of this tomb imprint on thy mind that young and old, without distinction, leave this world; and therefore fail not to secure the next."
The reason? This grave speaks to the living.
Mary Beaufoy was the only daughter and heiress of Sir Henry Beaufoy, of Guyscliffe, near Warwick, and the Hon. Charlotte Lane, eldest daughter of George Lord Viscount Lansborough. Standing there in the Abbey's stillness, looking at this tomb, it isn't too hard to imagine how the hopes and dreams of Sir Henry and Lady Charlotte were bound up in this one precious child. She would have been their laughter, their joy, and the quiet confidence that one day their title and lineage would pass to another. But Mary died on July 12, 1705, aged just 28, and their hopes died with her.
Such was the impact of this tragedy, and yet through her grief and loss Lady Charlotte resolved that her daughter's death would not be in vain. The tomb she commissioned at the hand of the famous woodcarver Grinling Gibbons bears a striking message, one which stopped me in my tracks all those years ago and one which I pray will speak to you too.
This is what it says:
"Reader! whoever thou art, let the sight of this tomb imprint on thy mind that young and old, without distinction, leave this world; and therefore fail not to secure the next."
Sunday, 22 March 2009
What a Waste of Time
Do you like wasting your time?
Hebrews 11:6 describes what is possibly the biggest lost cause of them all, and yet one into which otherwise intelligent people have poured huge amounts of time and effort down through the ages. The verse says "But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him."
Many seek to prove or disprove the existence of God by their intellect, by clever philosophical argument or logical reasoning. Some point to the natural world or the laws of science while others turn to history and comb ancient texts in dogged pusuit of a secret clue.
But all this is a complete waste of time. If we're going to "come to God" as the verse says, if we ever hope to approach that place where God can be found and seen, then there's only one way and that is to come by faith. The writer is very clear, "he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him." Notice the word "must." Your arguments won't bring you to God and neither will they prove his non-existence. Science, nature, and all the intellect and philosophy of man will equally get you nowhere. Even religion is a waste of time. Unless you're willing to exercise faith your search will be in vain.
This upsets some and frustrates many more, but that's the way it is. You see, if God really is God then His position gives Him the right to make the rules. And He's decided that only those who are prepared to approach Him in humble faith are going to find Him. "Humility," as a wise friend of mine often says, "is what gains entrance." It's your ticket to the door, it places your name on heaven's guest list. The humble soul stops trying to evaluate God, to disprove God, to analyse God, and simply worships Him. It makes sense if you think about it - if we could understand God, categorise Him and explain Him then by that very act we've reduced Him to the level of our own intelligence and discovered that after all He's no wiser than us. But the glory of the true God is as far beyond the grasp of our feeble human understanding as quantum physics is beyond the reach of the average family dog. If God truly is God, then we can never figure Him out. But what a glorious truth it is that while we could never reach Him by our own efforts God has provided a way for us to find him, a way so simple that it can be mastered by the lowliest peasant or the youngest child.
Stop wasting your time. Approach God in simple, humble faith and you'll find that He's more than willing to make Himself known.
Hebrews 11:6 describes what is possibly the biggest lost cause of them all, and yet one into which otherwise intelligent people have poured huge amounts of time and effort down through the ages. The verse says "But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him."
Many seek to prove or disprove the existence of God by their intellect, by clever philosophical argument or logical reasoning. Some point to the natural world or the laws of science while others turn to history and comb ancient texts in dogged pusuit of a secret clue.
But all this is a complete waste of time. If we're going to "come to God" as the verse says, if we ever hope to approach that place where God can be found and seen, then there's only one way and that is to come by faith. The writer is very clear, "he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him." Notice the word "must." Your arguments won't bring you to God and neither will they prove his non-existence. Science, nature, and all the intellect and philosophy of man will equally get you nowhere. Even religion is a waste of time. Unless you're willing to exercise faith your search will be in vain.
This upsets some and frustrates many more, but that's the way it is. You see, if God really is God then His position gives Him the right to make the rules. And He's decided that only those who are prepared to approach Him in humble faith are going to find Him. "Humility," as a wise friend of mine often says, "is what gains entrance." It's your ticket to the door, it places your name on heaven's guest list. The humble soul stops trying to evaluate God, to disprove God, to analyse God, and simply worships Him. It makes sense if you think about it - if we could understand God, categorise Him and explain Him then by that very act we've reduced Him to the level of our own intelligence and discovered that after all He's no wiser than us. But the glory of the true God is as far beyond the grasp of our feeble human understanding as quantum physics is beyond the reach of the average family dog. If God truly is God, then we can never figure Him out. But what a glorious truth it is that while we could never reach Him by our own efforts God has provided a way for us to find him, a way so simple that it can be mastered by the lowliest peasant or the youngest child.
Stop wasting your time. Approach God in simple, humble faith and you'll find that He's more than willing to make Himself known.
Thursday, 12 March 2009
The Silent Minority
One thing that seems to characterise today's society is the abundance of groups determined to impose their agenda on everyone else. Without really pausing for thought I could name several, all of which demand quite agressively that I accomodate their beliefs and uphold their practices and yet become strangely upset if I in turn ask that they respect mine.
One thing that particularly troubles me in all this is what I call the terrorist paradox. Here in the UK we're no stranger to terrorism having lived with the IRA for half a generation, and yet we have a settlement today in which former enemies have come together to form a power-sharing government. That's good, and I'm glad the peace finally came. It came because people on both sides put aside their guns and rhetoric to talk; both the government and the terrorists meeting on middle ground and moving forward together for peace. And what's interesting is the way in which these leaders have now risen up with one voice to condemn the recent murders by the 'Real IRA' - acts that some of them supported and even committed before they became politicians. Again, I'm glad they spoke out; but I worry that in the wider context of our society we're setting a pattern here.
It seems that in today's world if you live quietly as a reasonable, law-abiding citizen, respecting the rights of others and never forcing your agenda on your fellow man then your voice is ignored by a political system that has more pressing things to think about. But if you step over the line and make noise, if you break the law and throw bricks at Policemen, if you kill and maim innocent bystanders, damage property and commit that most British of crimes, "disturbing the peace", then after the outrage and condemnation have run their course someone will eventually decide to sit down and talk with you. Make yourself a thorn in society's side and sooner or later your demands will be heard. And not just heard; in the fulness of time you'll probably be brought in from the cold and given a leadership role.
We live in a world where only the loud are listened to; and there are many who understand this and are prepared to be as loud as it takes. It's a shame our governments and leaders can't find the time to equally engage the quiet. I don't see anyone offering to bring the young, carers, refugees, ordinary people of quiet and dignified faith, single parents, the elderly or the homeless into the political establishment; rather, I see them increasingly marginalised. We face big problems today, and there are many who have much to contribute but because they either have no voice or have a moral compass that prevents them from stamping on others, they are ignored.
There are rumours that Obama might be about to talk to the Taliban. If he does then it's further evidence, should more be needed, that in today's warped politics there are now two routes into public office: the ballot and the bomb.
One thing that particularly troubles me in all this is what I call the terrorist paradox. Here in the UK we're no stranger to terrorism having lived with the IRA for half a generation, and yet we have a settlement today in which former enemies have come together to form a power-sharing government. That's good, and I'm glad the peace finally came. It came because people on both sides put aside their guns and rhetoric to talk; both the government and the terrorists meeting on middle ground and moving forward together for peace. And what's interesting is the way in which these leaders have now risen up with one voice to condemn the recent murders by the 'Real IRA' - acts that some of them supported and even committed before they became politicians. Again, I'm glad they spoke out; but I worry that in the wider context of our society we're setting a pattern here.
It seems that in today's world if you live quietly as a reasonable, law-abiding citizen, respecting the rights of others and never forcing your agenda on your fellow man then your voice is ignored by a political system that has more pressing things to think about. But if you step over the line and make noise, if you break the law and throw bricks at Policemen, if you kill and maim innocent bystanders, damage property and commit that most British of crimes, "disturbing the peace", then after the outrage and condemnation have run their course someone will eventually decide to sit down and talk with you. Make yourself a thorn in society's side and sooner or later your demands will be heard. And not just heard; in the fulness of time you'll probably be brought in from the cold and given a leadership role.
We live in a world where only the loud are listened to; and there are many who understand this and are prepared to be as loud as it takes. It's a shame our governments and leaders can't find the time to equally engage the quiet. I don't see anyone offering to bring the young, carers, refugees, ordinary people of quiet and dignified faith, single parents, the elderly or the homeless into the political establishment; rather, I see them increasingly marginalised. We face big problems today, and there are many who have much to contribute but because they either have no voice or have a moral compass that prevents them from stamping on others, they are ignored.
There are rumours that Obama might be about to talk to the Taliban. If he does then it's further evidence, should more be needed, that in today's warped politics there are now two routes into public office: the ballot and the bomb.
Tuesday, 10 March 2009
Perspective
People are more important than things.
Friends have more value than funds.
And eternity is more significant than this short, fleeting life.
Friends have more value than funds.
And eternity is more significant than this short, fleeting life.
Sunday, 8 March 2009
Ten to one?
Someone once said, "God gave us two ears and one mouth - to be used in that proportion".
Wise words. We would all do well to listen more than we speak.
Then I realised that God gave us ten fingers. Does that mean we should abandon conversation altogether and spend our time on Facebook? Perhaps not; but it does prove that we should be careful not to stretch our clever illustrations so far that they make fools of us.
Wise words. We would all do well to listen more than we speak.
Then I realised that God gave us ten fingers. Does that mean we should abandon conversation altogether and spend our time on Facebook? Perhaps not; but it does prove that we should be careful not to stretch our clever illustrations so far that they make fools of us.
Sunday, 1 March 2009
Computer Tips
Have you ever lost a valuable file while working on your computer? I often get asked to help in such situations but sadly sometimes there's nothing I can do. So, to save you from digital doom, here are The Bishop's top tips for safe and happy computing.
Firstly, always have more than one copy of any important file or document. Always. Here's how:
1) As soon as you open your document and before you do anything else, use the Save As function to save a second copy of your document under a slightly different name. For example, "Prizewinning Novel - Version 13". That way you'll always have Versions 1 through 12 to go back to should the worst happen.
2) Buy a USB memory stick and keep copies of your documents on that. Then, if your computer dies or gets stolen you've still got your precious files. A word of warning though: only keep copies of your files on the USB stick - never edit the files on the stick directly as this can cause corruption if your system crashes. I've seen two cases of this in the past twelve months and on both occasions the important document was lost forever. You have been warned.
Secondly, get into the habit of saving:
3) Find out what the shortcut key sequence is in your editor/word processor (check the Help) and use it. For example, in Microsoft Word Alt+F then S will do a quick save without you even needing to touch the mouse. Whenever you pause for thought in your typing, do a save. Whenever you stop to pick up a reference book, save. Whenever you lift your mug to sip tea, answer the phone or glance out of the window, save. Get into the habit of saving; then if your computer crashes or the power goes off you'll only have a few minutes work to redo.
4) If your editor/word processor has an auto-save feature (check the Help), turn it on. Again, if something goes wrong you'll only have lost whatever you wrote since the last save.
Thirdly, keep your computer in good order. Install anti-virus protection, turn on your firewall and make sure you install critical patches and service packs. Defragment occasionally, don't let your hard drive fill up and don't install dodgy programs from the internet. Look after your system and it will be far less likely to let you down.
That's it; I hope those tips were useful. If you agree, disagree, have something to add or would like to share your personal disaster story, feel free to post a comment.
Thursday, 26 February 2009
Happy Birthday
Today is my wife's birthday, so please forgive me the self-indulgence of giving her a mention.
Solomon, reputed to be the wisest man who ever lived, said, "Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour from the Lord". Notice he didn't say, 'he who findeth a girl prepared to sleep with him, or a one-night stand, or an illicit thrill, or an ornament to hang from his arm at parties or to drape over the passenger seat of his sports car'. No, he said 'he that findeth a wife'. These things are cheap; but a wife is a treasure with a value "far above rubies".
I'm still quietly amazed, even after all these years, that she said 'yes'; that such a remarkable woman would close off all other options and dedicate herself to someone like me for life. But that's what it's all about; the greatest gift she has ever given me in all our twenty six years together is the one she gave on that first day, when she stood and publicly professed a love so strong that she was prepared to seal it with a binding, lifetime commitment. I don't take that lightly, and I never will. That is a treasure beyond price, and that's why Marriage will forever stand head and shoulders above every other human relationship.
Happy Birthday, gorgeous. I love you. And thank you for everything.
Solomon, reputed to be the wisest man who ever lived, said, "Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour from the Lord". Notice he didn't say, 'he who findeth a girl prepared to sleep with him, or a one-night stand, or an illicit thrill, or an ornament to hang from his arm at parties or to drape over the passenger seat of his sports car'. No, he said 'he that findeth a wife'. These things are cheap; but a wife is a treasure with a value "far above rubies".
I'm still quietly amazed, even after all these years, that she said 'yes'; that such a remarkable woman would close off all other options and dedicate herself to someone like me for life. But that's what it's all about; the greatest gift she has ever given me in all our twenty six years together is the one she gave on that first day, when she stood and publicly professed a love so strong that she was prepared to seal it with a binding, lifetime commitment. I don't take that lightly, and I never will. That is a treasure beyond price, and that's why Marriage will forever stand head and shoulders above every other human relationship.
Happy Birthday, gorgeous. I love you. And thank you for everything.
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Gail Trimble
This year's University Challenge quiz has been won by Corpus Christi College in Oxford, who beat Manchester University by 275 points to 190 in the final. Amazingly, Corpus Christi has less than 400 students, but what's even more remarkable is that the team owes its success to its captain, 26-year-old Gail Trimble, who single-handedly scored two-thirds of her team's 1,200 points in a stunning performance described by the BBC as an "intellectual blitzkrieg". This achievement has thrust the bemused Miss Trimble, a Latin scholar, into the national media spotlight and seen her hailed as a sex-symbol. She's even had an offer from Nuts magazine for a "tasteful photo shoot". Yeah, right.
This, of course, got me thinking. Would the BBC be so fascinated by her if she was just a good student quietly getting on with her Latin? I doubt it. Would Nuts magazine be craving her body if she'd never been on University Challenge? Probably not. Gail's achievements haven't changed her innate worth or beauty as a person but they have changed the way people see her. Every day we evaluate people on the basis of their celebrity status, health, wealth or outward appearance and, without thinking beyond what we see, we label them. Jesus never made that mistake and neither should we; whether with Gail Trimble or anyone else.
This, of course, got me thinking. Would the BBC be so fascinated by her if she was just a good student quietly getting on with her Latin? I doubt it. Would Nuts magazine be craving her body if she'd never been on University Challenge? Probably not. Gail's achievements haven't changed her innate worth or beauty as a person but they have changed the way people see her. Every day we evaluate people on the basis of their celebrity status, health, wealth or outward appearance and, without thinking beyond what we see, we label them. Jesus never made that mistake and neither should we; whether with Gail Trimble or anyone else.
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
In the Garden
I finally got out into the garden the other day for the first time this year. Though I didn't do much or stay long it felt so good just to be out there; a mini-victory over the long grip of winter and a celebration of better things to come.
I love gardening. As therapy for the soul it has no equal; it slows me down and helps me reconnect with the realities of the human condition that get lost so often in our hectic digital lives. The garden reminds me that I'm dependent on nature and on God. I can't control them; I have to humble myself and work with them. Whenever I watch a seed grow I'm reminded that it is not me that performs the miracle, all I do is plant what God has given me and stand back in awe. The weather, the seasons, rain and frost and sunshine all show me my true place in the divine order of things and I'm glad that they do. It's a sense of humility and worship that is becoming increasingly lost in our atheistic generation, and the further we stray from things that show us who we really are the more soul-sick we become.
I thank God, literally, for my garden; though it's not much to look at and probably wouldn't impress you if you saw it. But for me, it's an encounter with the divine. Genesis records that one of the first things God did was to plant a garden, and it was there that "Adam walked with God in the cool of the day". If you're a gardener, open your heart to the lessons all around you and you too can walk with God. It might surprise you to find that He's been in your garden all along.
I love gardening. As therapy for the soul it has no equal; it slows me down and helps me reconnect with the realities of the human condition that get lost so often in our hectic digital lives. The garden reminds me that I'm dependent on nature and on God. I can't control them; I have to humble myself and work with them. Whenever I watch a seed grow I'm reminded that it is not me that performs the miracle, all I do is plant what God has given me and stand back in awe. The weather, the seasons, rain and frost and sunshine all show me my true place in the divine order of things and I'm glad that they do. It's a sense of humility and worship that is becoming increasingly lost in our atheistic generation, and the further we stray from things that show us who we really are the more soul-sick we become.
I thank God, literally, for my garden; though it's not much to look at and probably wouldn't impress you if you saw it. But for me, it's an encounter with the divine. Genesis records that one of the first things God did was to plant a garden, and it was there that "Adam walked with God in the cool of the day". If you're a gardener, open your heart to the lessons all around you and you too can walk with God. It might surprise you to find that He's been in your garden all along.
Sunday, 22 February 2009
Jade Goody
In case you didn't know (where have you been?) Jade Goody, a media celebrity here in the UK, got married today. Unfortunately though what should have been a happy occasion was tempered somewhat by the knowledge that she's been diagnosed with cancer and has only weeks to live. Do you have important things to do and to say? Let us attend to them now, while we have the opportunity.
Saturday, 21 February 2009
Political Correctness
This seems to have become a requirement for modern life. What you write, what you say and even the opinions you hold had better conform or you'll soon find yourself in trouble. Don't get me wrong, I strongly agree that we should respect and value others regardless of who they are, what they are like and how they choose to live. After all, every single human being on the planet is a unique creation of God with their own hopes and dreams and just as much right to a place in the sun as you and I. The problem comes when political correctness is stretched until you become afraid to speak the truth, express an opinion or call something by its real name because that may offend. This is just another way of saying "I forbid you to say anything about me I don't want to hear" hidden under the noble-sounding premise of "respect my feelings and don't offend me". What incredible self-centred pride! And what a sad place to live. The truth hurts sometimes, but faithful are the wounds of a friend. Jesus said that when we know the truth, the truth will set us free. Unless we allow others to tell us the truth about ourselves without crying foul, we will never see ourselves as other see us and we can never change to become better people.
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