With my stint of terrorising young people with the full horrors of the Gospel over, and after a varied summer and a Cathsoc wedding (no, not all of us) I'm now back to student life.  OK, so it's been a while - but I'd promised to update you once I'd settled in here in Leuven, so here goes.  And by way of introduction, here's proof that I am orthodox:

---

Quizfarm - Eucharistic Theology

You scored as Catholic.

Catholic		100%
Calvin		75%
Luther		50%
Zwingli		13%
Unitarian		0%

You are a Catholic. You believe that the bread and wine are transformed by the priest and become the Body and Blood of Christ. Though the accidents, or appearance, of bread and wine remain, the substance has been changed. The Eucharist remains the Body and Blood of Christ after the celebration, and is reserved in the Tabernacle; Eucharistic devotions are proper. As the whole Christ is present under either species, you partake fully of the Eucharist even if you receive only one.

[Luther I understand - but 75% Calvinist?!  Huh?!]

---

So that's good to know.  As you've probably gathered by now, I'm still alive.  Canon Law hasn't killed me yet.  My nightmares about being completely out of my depth were merely that - nightmares, and nothing more (yes, I am beginning to sound like Edgar Allen Poe!).  There are three of us in the first year ('JCB'), and we're all lay - OK, OK, Alejandro's a seminarian, but still.  The other first year is Silvana, a civil lawyer from Brazil.  I'm glad to say we all get on and the small yet perfectly formed faculty is treating us well.  The courses are interesting, which is just as well because they're all compulsory!  I'm also taking courses in Theology in the hope of getting myself an STB at some point.

After a few initial logistics issues with my kot I've now got a semblance of civilised living.  The house itself is a bit of a dump, but upstairs isn't too bad - I've got a bedsit, about 9' by 18', with a kitchenette thingy and a shared bathroom.  I must say it looks a lot better now it's got a bed, chair, desk and kitchen appliances installed - the first two or three days were pretty horrible without them, but Barclaycard soon sorted that out.  Thankfully I think my days of carrying a mattress or equally bulky item home on my head are over.  From now on it's just books, which are much better carried in hand!

Not much to tell about life in general; I'm doing a bit of music with the University Parish on Sundays but that's about it for extracurricular activities at the moment.  There is a women's rugby team but I can't find my mouthguard so haven't braved it yet!  I don't have a bike as I'm in a very central location (10 minutes from Maria-Theresiacollege, the home of Theology and Canon Law, 5 minutes from the city centre, 10 minutes in the other direction from the station) and so there's no need for one.

A few things it's going to take a while to get used to:

- Back to front milk colour-codes (turns out red is volle melk - not skimmed, as I'd expected!);
- Paying import duty on BOOKS!  How ridiculous!;
- Weird names for margarine (yes, I did accidentally buy cooking fat at my first attempt);
- Paying for rubbish bags to throw stuff away (very annoying when everything comes with so much packaging);
- Eating pasta every day (starting to get sick of it);
- Dutch - it's DIFFICULT, even makes Latin seem easy;
- So many people smoke - definitely a difference from the UK; and
- Liturgical abuses - but these I don't intend to get used to.  Hmm.

Things I'm enjoying most:

- Being mischievous ("So can you suggest a social problem that might arise if polygamy was made legal in Britain?" - "Er, permanent paternity leave, Professor?");
- Lectures - yes, you did read that correctly!; and
- Beer, €3 for 6 50cl cans - but everything in moderation...

I can't believe it's been nearly four months since I wrote anything substantive (that is to say, "of wot I 'as been up to, like") here.  Not that much has happened - or indeed anything, on the job / career front - but I'd better commit it to pixels before my memory gives out and the story of my summer is lost forever.

Having reached the Point of No Return at my second placement school, who obviously did not share my enthusiasm for me becoming a teacher, I said my goodbyes and left.  With less than six weeks left to run on the course, and bearing in mind that RE teachers in state secondary schools see their lower school pupils twice a fortnight at best, an almost complete change of timetable meant me getting to know eight new classes (belonging to two other members of staff) who I would teach at most three times each.  Three lessons is not long enough to gel with a class, even without picking up two different ways of attacking the schemes of work!  When I told my mentor I was leaving, her only words to me were, "Make sure you return all your textbooks" - and from the professional tutor, "Well you weren't going to pass here, anyway".  Too right, mister.  Off I go.

I informed the Faculty of my decision, and tied up loose ends in school.  Not surprisingly, I was struck by an overwhelming sense of needing to escape, physically and mentally - so on a whim, and without speaking to anyone at home, I packed my bags and set off at 0345 on the Wednesday morning for Chelmsford station, and thence to Iona, middle of nowhere and blessed spiritual retreat of the second Christian millennium.

A train to Liverpool Street, then on to Euston; up to Glasgow, and over to Oban.  I got my first phone call at 1600 from Dad, asking me to hang the washing out.  I explained that I was out, and he enquired as to where.  "Oban," says I.  "Holborn?"  "No," I said, "OBAN!"  ("So you won't be back tonight, then?"  "Er, no, Dad...")  I arrived on Iona at 1830, on the last ferry of the day, and walked to the other end of the island, checking into the new-ish hostel.  I hadn't been on the island for eight years, but it didn't feel half as long as that!  I went to the Abbey for evening prayer, and wandered the mile back to Lagandorain to watch the sun set over the North shore.  So, so beautiful.  I have never seen Iona like this before - hot and sunny, clear skies, and an enormous sense of peace.  I sat on the white sand, taking photographs until the sun sank, and retreated to the dorm for a well-earned sleep.

The next day was to be my only full day on the island.  I had planned to return on the Friday, and only had enough money for two nights at the hostel.  A few texts were sufficient to arrange to stop off in Durham for dinner on the way back, so I had to make the most of my time before then.  Dun I is the only real 'hill' on Iona, and at 100m it's hardly a major obstacle.  I'd skirted around it on the first evening, and by the Thursday it was calling out to be 'climbed'.  After collecting the day's provisions from the village, and checking in briefly at the Abbey, I scrambled to the top in time for brunch, and spent a good hour absorbing the panoramic view - simply breathtaking!

Following lunch at the hostel, I made my plans for the afternoon.  Something had drawn me to escape here, of all places, and I felt that a visit would not be complete without going down to St. Columba's bay at the southern end of Iona - the beach where St. Columba landed from Ireland to bring Christianity to Scotland, and thence to northern England.  I collected a map, and set out in what was by now quite unexpected heat.  I crossed to Port Ban, on the West coast (dodging the golf balls on the quasi-course!) and went up through the bog, over the quarry and down to the bay.  Job done.  1640, and a reminder set on my phone (assuming I would be in a more central location!) that Mass was scheduled for 1700 in the retreat house.  "Darn," thought I - "I'm a mile of bog away, and the track isn't visible from here.  I'll never make it!"  But never one to miss a Mass where possible, and courtesy of a few shortcuts, I made it with seconds to spare.  It was the first time in my three visits to Iona that I had been able to go to Mass there, and it was a true blessing!  I'm not sure the old dears would see it that way, though.  I had to explain afterwards why I was dripping with sweat, with bogginess up to my ankles!  (Don't worry, I took my boots off for Mass!)

After a day of adventure, and a welcome shower in the hostel, I treated myself to Dinner For One at the hotel by the Abbey.  And fab it was, too!  A wee dram of Oban was a quite perfect accompaniment to the end of the day, and I made my final stop off at the Abbey that evening before retiring.  With the dorm to myself, and now thoroughly rested, I got a good night's sleep before packing up in the morning and catching the 0930 ferry to Fionnphort with the week's pilgrims.  The familiar coach around Ben Mhor and across Mull, then the Big Ferry to Oban - all the time, the group of pilgrim faces growing smaller and smaller.  A stop at the whisky shop on the harbour front before the 1245 to Glasgow - still about half a coach load (the noisy half, judging by the volume of "The Journey Is Long"!).  Tracing the journey of the first Christian missionaries, across to Edinburgh and beyond - a few hangers-on, and even one or two on the Kings Cross train.  One or two at Newcastle, but the trail went cold at Durham and I alighted to a different group of faces.

Dinner at The Water House with Zoe, Emma, Naomi and Maria, then mead and sleep at Zoe's before Mass at St. Cuthbert's (surprised FP, then had to explain the last week's events all over again!) and a train home to Chelmsford.  I THINK I was away for long enough - but it's difficult to tell, especially when you don't know what's coming next.  As it happens, not much happened next - I didn't walk into a job, or anything convenient or useful like that, but I'm glad I didn't stay away for too long.  It was a refreshing break, and a necessary one, but it was never meant to be a 'running away' from reality.

I finally got a 'meeting' in Cambridge on 18th May to finalise my departure from the course, but at the time of writing this is still having repercussions of the "he said / she said" kind.  (Suffice it to say that although I'm not teaching or training to teach at the moment, I intend to continue to fight for an opportunity to do so, if only in annoyance that the course manager of a Cambridge Faculty is functionally illiterate, and does not READ what I have written in letters to her!)

Having spent a significant proportion of my final bursary installment on an 1200 mile round-trip of the British Isles, and with complete disregard for my impending state of unemployed-ness (and, by the look of things, unemployability) I made plans for more gallavanting.  I *think* I was in Durham again before the end of term - was it after exams? - and again for the diaconate ordinations at Ushaw in June.  Credit card receipts from this period indicate a burgeoning inclination to alcoholism, eventually replaced by some serious exercise and 'dieting' (I use the term reluctantly, but it's probably a 'best-fit').  The 10th/11th June was manic, shuttling to and from Durham (ordinations) and including a horrific 0227 overnight train to be in Cambridge for a punting session that never was.  Oh well.  Went to Harlow dogs with the PGCErs, who finished on 24th June, and missed the last train home.  Crashed at Mr Biddle's, got up, watched the Lions lose.  Left Cambridge 'as a student' for the last time on 25th June.

The summer was a bit of a blur, not helped by the fact that it was pretty empty.  Went to Stephen Maughan's ordination in Scarborough, despite knowing I really shouldn't, and unexpectedly saw Andy and the Astra, but had to rush off to be at a re-arranged REM concert in Hyde Park that evening.  What a fantastic day that was!  August, a day trip to France, and another visit to Durham to see Ali in her new house (beautiful pile!).  Met up with FP before he departed for Rome, etc.  Went to Youth 2000 at Walsingham again, but this time on my lonesome.  Caught up with Anne-Marie and Fr. J, which was really, really good (let the reader understand!).  Went to Durham (AGAIN!) to see Zoe's new house, and gatecrashed Anne-Marie's send off Mass and do.  Saw lots of Durham / Ushaw people, including the Rev. Philip Conner, whose ordination I'll be at in November!  Wahey!

No job interviews - very few rejection letters, but I wish more people (organisations, that is) would at least have the courtesy of replying to acknowledge receipt of application forms.  Grr.  Finally sorted out my Leuven application, with references from PDM and AF (two bastions of Catholic orthodoxy, dontcha know?!) and am now waiting on word from Belgium as to whether or not I'll be JCL-ing this time next year.  Visited the Tribunal at Brentwood last week, and things are looking good on the Canon Law front.  In other news, met Fr. Dominic, the youth chaplain, last week - and in an unexpected turn of events, I'm now looking into working at a certain local diocesan youth retreat house this year, if things go to 'plan'.  Watch this space!  Youth Leader's course sponsored by OLI, and the EOMHC course at St. Augustine's, too, despite being completely unworthy (just like last time, but now a bit older!)... this is NOT what I had in mind for 2005/2006.  Then again: not my will, but Yours...

Anyone can write a Graham Kendrick song
Anyone can write a Graham Kendrick song
You just make the words up as you go along
Anyone can write a Graham Kendrick song

Graham Kendrick leaves out all the [CLAP] crucial beats
Graham Kendrick leaves out all the [CLAP] crucial beats
So instead of singing you can [STAMP] stamp your feet
Graham Kendrick leaves out all the [CLAP] crucial beats

Take a verse from Psalms or a mi-nor prophet
Take a verse from Psalms or a mi-nor prophet
Make it so obscure no-one knows quite which bit
Take a verse from Psalms or a mi-nor prophet

Put it in a key the guitar-ist can't play
Put it in a key the guitar-ist can't play
I'll learn C-sharp dim minor seven in a day
Put it in a key the guitar-ist can't play

The stress-ing of the syl-lab-les does-n't mat-ter
The stress-ing of the syl-lab-les does-n't mat-ter
Put some extra words in if the line isn't quite long enough for what you want
The stress-ing of the syl-lab-.........les does-n't mat-ter

Graham taught us how to sing in harmony
Graham taught us how to sing in harmony
Even if it's very like the melody
Graham taught us how to sing in harmony

As you go throughout the song you get faster
As you go throughout the song you get faster
Pianist won't keep up but who cares about her
As you go throughout the song you get faster

Anyone can write a Graham Kendrick song
Anyone can write a Graham Kendrick song
When you think you've reached the end well that's where you're wrong
Anyone can write a Graham Kendrick song

Pick your favourite verse and sing it once again
Pick your favourite verse and sing it once again
That's the way you'll know when you've reached the end
Pick your favourite verse and sing it once again...

With thanks to St. Paul's, Banbury

Oh, and a sure sign that someone at Google has got a (Catholic?) sense of humour!

I guess the only question left now is whether or not I sleep in my shirt!

Corporis et Sanguinis Christi tomorrow.  MUST sober up...

Habemus Papam!  The Artist formerly known as Ratz has become Pope Benedict XVI.

Liverpool are in the Champions League final.

Labour 'won' the General Election.  West Chelmsford retains its Tory MP.  I'm still waiting for my postal vote to arrive.

FP is leaving St. Cuthbert's for (heretofore unknown) pastures new.

I've just quit my PGCE.

Dusty Springfield was right:

Not only am I unsure just what to do with myself, I'm so used to doing everything with you - and planning - I'm also considering a relationship (of sorts) with a summer rose.  Help.

Shortly after 2137 (local time) on 2nd April 2005, the bells of St. Peter's began tolling to mark the death of Pope John Paul II.

---

"Christ is the morning star,
who when the light of this world is passed,
brings to His saints the promise of the light of life and opens everlasting day."  (St. Bede)

At last, all-powerful Master,
you give leave to your servant
to go in peace, according to your promise.

For my eyes have seen your salvation
which you have prepared for all nations,
the light to enlighten the Gentiles
and give glory to Israel, your people.  (Luke 2:29-32)

O God,
from whom the just receive an unfailing reward,
grant that your servant John Paul, our Pope,
whom you made vicar of Peter and shepherd of your Church,
may rejoice for ever in the vision of your glory,
for he was a faithful steward here on Earth
of the mysteries of your forgiveness and grace.

Eternal rest, grant to him O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon him.
May he rest in peace.  Amen.

---

[Universi Dominici Gregis]

See, what did I tell you?  I SAID He'd be back, I did, I did - and I tawt I taw a puddy tat!

An ecclesiastical year on, and the same (not so silly) Exsultet does that same silly thing to ol' sentimental me - it's frigging great.  Almost made up for the cantor adding the ordination squiggles to the Litany of Saints ("Bless these chosen men, make them holy, and consecrate them for their sacred duties", etc!) - Fr. Brian and I had a laugh about that afterwards.  He said he was glad he was facing away from the congregation at the time, and I can see why.  Stupid woman.  Perhaps I should pass word to these guys?

Beats getting, er... 'beaten' during Compline on Maundy Thursday.  Full moons bring out the loons, and this month was no exception.  Luckily no one was hurt, which was a relief - the other being that he didn't get as far as the tabernacle.  I'm sure Jesus can defend Himself, but after the mess He got Himself into earlier in the evening I'd still rather hang around and watch.  Just in case.  Now where did I put that aisle-situate Real-Presence-defending karate-esque move?  Care to assist, Angela?

In addition to my customary "Oh Dear Lord, what the fug am I going to do with Year 10 tomorrow?!" panics, I've done a fair bit of gallavanting up / down / around the country (and even 'abroad'!) - including a(nother) trip up North and a flying visit to Chantelle in Cardiff, despite the best combined efforts of Transport for London (Paddington Station) and First Great Western Railways.  My credit card is looking a little green, and it's not with the reflected glory of dollar bills!  But heck, it must be my turn to be visited soon.  I must have seen nearly every Durhamite in their respective natural habitat in the last three years, and it's payback time!!!

Oh, yes, and the small matter of the PGCE.  Well the Milk Tray 'Man' came and went, as did the Masked Raider.  I proffered my usual range of inimitably crud lessons, and they went away.  I'm yet to hear the sound of sharpening knives, so either I'm safe or they're planning to do away with me in an altogether more explosive fashion.  I've always said I'll go out with a bang, so perhaps they're just humouring me!  No, seriously, it's not going very well and I'm just hanging on to my Cantabrigian coil.  Bribes / prayers / hits please - a variety of gifts, but all from the same Spirit, an' all...

And no, I don't know where all the pictures have gone.  It's a shame, because there were some corkers, but I caught the problem too late to retrieve any cached copies from Google.  So sorry if you're reading and not understanding - that just might be your problem.  On the other hand, it is perfectly possible that my posts fail to make sense even without images - in which case, sorry too.  For all you Durhamites, if you've got any digital camera images you'd like to send me, feel free... my old laptop is in its death throes and is refusing to transfer any more old files to The Beast, so if I can get any from another route it would make the process of continuing to prod it slightly less demeaning for all concerned.

PS Homertonians - anyone up for a bit of 'consultancy' on 1(a) / 1(b)?  Alas, no payment involved, but I might shine your shoes or sommat!  Or just ask the Boss for confirmation of my washing-up skills!  No rush, no panic - the deadline's April Fools' Day.  Fule me.  More fule for trying to outwit the bookies on the Boat Race result!  Heck, if you're in need of light entertainment instead, try this...

"Since in Jesus, the Son of God, we have the supreme high priest who has gone through to the highest heaven, we must never let go of the faith that we have professed.  For it is not as if we had a high priest who was incapable of feeling our weaknesses with us; but we have one who has been tempted in every way that we are, though he is without sin.  Let us be confident, then, in approaching the throne of grace, that we shall have mercy from him and find grace when we are in need of help."  (Hebrews 4:14-16 - from the second reading for Mass of Good Friday)

In fact, just the last bit of that.  As good a reason to be confident as ever I heard (or listened to!).  Doesn't mean I'm going to act on it, or change in any way, as if such a thing was possible; rather, I'm going to resolve to be aware that continuing to not act on it is tantamount to self-neglect.  Then we'll see what happens.  Don't hold your breath!

It is a theory beyond reasonable doubt that my ramblings here manifest themselves in inverse proportion to the amount of Real Work I am doing at the time, but (worryingly) in direct proportion to the amount of Real Work I have to do.  I have yet to establish a causal relationship, but I've got a sneaking suspicion that there's some undesirable fraternising going on somewhere.  The next logical step seems to be a stakeout of my blog, to check up on myself - which of course predicates against me getting any Real Work done.  I rest my case.

"Remember, man, that you are dust - and unto dust you shall return."  Here we go, folks...

...and time for an update! Well I survived a term. And a Christmas vac - as if I'd quit during a holiday! Sheesh! But first things first, and back to the beginning of November when I last checked in. Ah yes, 8th November - two weeks into the second half of Michaelmas term. Went to see Julie's school choir at the Royal Albert Hall, and then got stranded on the wrong side of London (after a very long day in Cambridge) waiting for Granda to get his act together - no uncommon occurrence! I'm sure I got at least two hours' sleep, don't worry... (Grr!) Then there was a course visit to the Fitz, with some pretty snazzy deck chairs and a well earned pint before a torturous trip home - "Yes, I know you've waited 2 hours for a bus, and you've just COME from Cambridge, but you'll have to get a bus back there to get a train to Ipswich, then two trains to Chelmsford... yes I KNOW it's only 20 miles from Stansted, but three counties is the best I can do, I'm afraid..." Played for RBL Danbury as usual on Remembrance Sunday - no rain, but bloody freezing - and earned my cup of tea. Shirley started her job with Oggsfam and I visited my second placement school (not much different from the first). I start there in about nine hours' time - better wrap this up and get to bed, eh?!

Bored to within a whisker of my wits at Staff Conference on 19th November, but got through it, despite the snow and an exploding servery at the hotel. Best stunt I've seen in ages! Another week in school, an unexpected job application (what the heck) and Pass the Pigs / rugby ball miracles micro-teaching with Father Fulton, with a Year 8 Religious Buildings trip to Various Artists, London on 26th. Free College watercolours courtesy of some mail order eegits for Helen's birthday (priceless!) and ADVENT. Another trip to PP2 for good measure (now know where the loos are!) and a pretty quiet few days before a manic last week of term. Ofsted snooping around Faculty, train to York for Amplewealth interview - tours, interviews, (exceedingly early Morning Prayer) - back to Cambridge for course Christmas dinner at the Derby, overnight with Caroline (OOH ERR!) and then one last day at the Faculty before travelling home for last two days at PP1. Friday 10th - straight to Durham from school, arrived midnight, SLEPT, rescued Cyril the Squid on Seaham beach (despite intoxication from onion-flavoured candy floss and warm shandy), graced Theology department Christmas formal, sang "Gaudete" far too many times, visited Fr. John, came home and went straight to PP2 Hums Christmas dinner. PHEW!

Popped into Cambridge but didn't get any work done. Finished up paperwork for PP1 and went in on last day of term to return piles of books and see the talent/freak show. Piss up with PP1 Young'Uns in Colchester, then last train home. SLEPT. (Spot the pattern! - Ed.) Waved Nana and Granda off to Norway. Met up with John Payners for Christmas drinks, but didn't get to Advent Service (first time in living memory!). Sorted Christmas stuff and buggered off to the Official Middle of Nowhere (Norfolk) for Seasonal Shenanigans away from Chelmsford. (Holy Family my arse!) Had a good - but by all accounts, weird - time. Back for a few days before New Year in the Lakes (via London, Wigan, Penrith, Keswick) with Durham people. Back (M6, M1, M25) in Theresa (put the spare to good use at Knutsford!) - a LONG drive, even if the passenger does say so herself! Panto with the precocious pack, "gambling in Madrid" (no, not I!) and a new laptop, minus AC adaptor. Grr. Nine minutes and counting until my birthday - how much more up to date d'yer want???

So the PGCE continues apace, but I... er... don't.  No, I haven't quit or been thrown out (yet) but the novelty of commuting has long worn off; and the piles of coach, train and bus ticket receipts are beginning to burn a hole in my overdraft.  So much for 'save money, stay at home'!  This month's been eventful, just like September, August and whatever came before that.  I forget.  There's been plenty to do, including being a tourist in various religious buildings (Buddhist and Jewish in Cambridge, and Hindu, Muslim and Sikh in Leicester) and a non-cyclist in Cambridge (which is pretty much the most dangerous thing I've ever done!).  The course is good, the people are good, the school is good - everything in between is a bit of a blur!  I must admit to have missed three essay deadlines, and counting - I'm back to my ol' lazy self, and I need a good kick up the backside (as I'm sure all you Durhamites will concur).  To be honest I'm not much looking forward to writing 'education' rather than 'theology', but I'm going to have to get used to it.  Had 'Cambridge and PGCE' been a more considered decision, I might have thought all this through some time last year, but as it happens... well, lastminute-itis is catching up with me.

After a few weeks at school, and with the oasis of half-term on the horizon, I took the opportunity to go to sunny Canvey with the remnants of what had been a large OLI / Holy Name Confirmation group.  The weekend went better than expected, given the location and numbers, and it was 'nice' to get back to spending some time with - how should I say without offending anyone? - 'like-minded' people, albeit little bud-like ones.  They're good kids, if a bit sheltered, and they made me certain that I want to teach in a Catholic (comprehensive) school next year - if I make it that far!  That's not to say that I dislike the school I'm in at the moment, not at all.  It's just that it's frustrating to have to be so guarded (is that what I mean? - I'm not sure) with comments about Christianity.  It's (understandably) PC, but I don't think I can teach it that way!  The best bits of RE, for me, were the niggles and controversies - underpinned by a common 'culture' across the desks whereby Catholicism was at best the ideal, and at worst the shadow of a common language.  I'm going to be a bad enough NQT without having to tiptoe around subjects as I do at the moment.  Of course everything takes planning (it really does, blagging only goes so far!) but sometimes you've got to consider your gut reaction.  My gut reaction is inevitably a Catholic one!  I've got to paint every issue in such a sterile way that I'm afraid the kids will never have gut reactions.  That can't be right.

If this lark is a vocation, I'm coming to realise that it probably isn't mine.  There was a time (at Sion, if I recall correctly) that I really felt 'called' to this - perhaps I got it wrong.  Whatever the forever after, I'm going to stick with it as long as I can stand it, wallet and sanity and all, but I don't envisage doing it for long.  A short visit to Durham this half term (with hospitality courtesy of Ms Jones and the occupants of 6 Mayorswell Field) only served to further convince me of the fact that I don't belong in Cambridge... I might not even belong in Chelmsford!  There's something about the grandly-titled 'Land of the Prince Bishops' that still nudges me, and I don't think I'm finished there yet.  We'll see! Logistics might prevail against a wholesale relocation up the A1 at present, but I'm definitely looking to return when I'm done here (by fair means or foul!).  It's time for a lottery win, methinks, and another shot at real University life!  Teaching is too much like the real world for a waster like me.

So that's MISS Romain to you, now. Scary stuff! And yes, it's been a long time (again). Don't know what to write, really, other than that I've started a PGCE at Cambridge - one helluva commute from Chelmsford, but not nearly as far as Durham - and that I'm trying to be a 'mature and rounded role model'. 'Rounded' I can do - but 'mature' is going to take some work, and 'role model' is another matter entirely...

Since the 8th August:

More filing at Redbridge - but with the end in sight!
The V Festival, and plenty of dry, warm clothes
A visit to a very happy Camilla at SENT
A PGCE interview, with a surprise offer of a place (which prompted a last minute decision to go to...
Youth 2000 at Walsingham - with fewer than 2000 youth, but then the weather WAS dire. Kudos to me, and my pitch-black middle-of-the-night howling-gale tent-pitching skills)
Lots and lots of form-filling (PGCE) and another last day at work (Redbridge)
The resumption of the Confirmation course at OLI
A great week at Westlands School with Ms Rolls' Year 6 class, aka "Initial School Experience", and a rush to...
A weekend at Center Parcs (spelling nightmare) to celebrate Nana's 70th birthday, and a rush to...
The beginning of the PGCE year on 13th September.

Since then, it's been all go - including:

The last Confirmation session, and finally
The Confirmation Mass, celebrated by Thomas 'The Charisma' McMahon, Bishop of Brentwood
A week's induction into my first "Professional Placement" School somewhere in deepest darkest Essex
A Confirmation course follow-up, and lots of leftover food for the shelter
A sniffly Saturday night out for Victoria's birthday, and
A horrible, horrible cold! < cough >

But then again, there's lots I haven't done - and loads of people I haven't seen - so if I've been pretty non-existent to you over the last few months (that's St. John Payners, Durhamites, HH-ers and all other hangers-on alike) then please ring me. Preferably not by the neck...

Or should that be 'filing'? Oh well, same difference. "Tonight, Matthew, my first graduate job will be... FILING!"

Yet another month has gone by with not so much as a *nod* at my blog, so once again, here's an event-dump:

Parents, grandparents arrived to my wholly-intact College existence (1st July, no packing done) but they managed to share out the two chairs between them, and (due to the fortuitous order of their appearance) the evening was mostly harmless. Something to do with them being dragged to (and placated by) Mass with FP before a luverrly dinner at the New Board Inn, Ushaw Moor. Put them to bed, then started Packing The Trunk - an event that was to haunt me for the next week! Who'd have thought a 5'x4'x3' box full of books could weigh so much? Well, I got it out of the door, into the lift (easier said than done) and down to Reception by 0100 - the rest was Amtrak's problem! "Yeah, sure, of course it weighs less than 60 kilos!" Whoops. The scales at their depot, they say 250 kilos...

Anyway, on to Graduation Day - another bloody miserable Durham summer showing of... er... rain, and wind, and a bit more rain. Graduand attire destructions specifically outlaw the use of raincoats or brollies (the latter being Perfectly Useless in Durham, of course) so I Just Got Wet. Thankfully there wasn't much outside-hanging-around, other than waiting at Castle for the V-C's procession, and the Bedel had us doing a Mexican wave to keep us amused - much to the annoyance of the robefitters, who were trying desperately hard to keep everyone's gowns in place on mostly skinny shoulders. Let's face it, only rugby players and breeze blocks can carry off the full-fur look with any kind of confidence.

So in we went, in conveyor-belt fashion, for the customary hand shake and the command to "Stand, bow your heads, shake out your pockets and pray for admittance to our degree" from the V-C. No Ustinov, of course - bah. But Sir Ken did alright - kept the speech short - and then we all got to 'hang' with Bill Bryson, which was pretty cool (even though he is American!). £7 for a glass of champagne (oh, the price of success!) then bloody official photos, and not-so-official ones outside Abbey House. Dumped the gown - what a rip off! - then trooped the folks down to Oldfields, stopping to do introductions'n'stuff with Fr. J ("Yes, these are my parents... no, they don't _look_ like monsters... yes, it was raining... oh great, now the sun's come out for yours... no, I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT'S YOUR MOTHER - she's far too young! - yes, better be getting off now, table booked and all that... yes, see you soon..."). Extortionate lunch at Oldfields, then back to College to pack the Fiesta with shite and wave off the parents (in the same car - shurely shome mishtake?!)

An evening with grandparents, tempered by Shrek II - YAY! - and the pacifying force of Miss Pleydell, her of "Argh! Another dissertation!" fame. Back to College, an early night for the oldies and a LOT more packing. Went to Mass, saw Nana off to Hoylake at lunchtime, then got on with the mammoth task of cramming the Mondeo (with a little 'help' from Granda!). Finally finished and said goodbye to Durham about 1630, then undertook the Drive'o'Death with Kangaroo Kars. That man is simply a danger to other road users, and it's scary.
< shudder > Anyway, got home late, unpacked the car into the back room then slept. Durham's over - phew!

*FECIT MIHI MAGNA QUI POTENS EST ET SANCTUM NOMEN EIUS*

Back to Chelmsfordian earth with a bump on Sunday (4th), and another Confirmation group class. Session was led by a CAFOD youth worker (whose name I've forgotten) and went surprisingly well. Strange being 'home' again, but never mind. Waited for trunk on Monday - it never came. Turns out it's way too heavy for even four people to lift, and so it's sitting in the depot whilst Amtrak decide to do nothing about it. Wonderful. Spent the week filling in job applications (pointless) and filing at Redbridge (nearly pointless) before going to the depot on Saturday and decanting the books into half a dozen smaller boxes. They'll deliver it now - too bloody right!

Continuing the ordination-fest of recent weeks, went to Paul Dynan's priestly ordination at OLI in the afternoon. Packed, as is to be expected - but still awesome to see it on the big screen in the hall. Strange to think that he was once married with a family, but after his wife died he was a great single parent and now that J-J and the others are adults (my age and older) it's great to see him fulfilling his new vocation. Big party in the Priory, of course, with Granda doing the usual "This is my granddaughter, you know. She's got a 2:I from Durham!" routine. Needless to say I escaped! Went to Fr. Paul's first Mass on Sunday (which would have been the Feast of St. Benedict on any other day of the week) and to the last Confirmation group class before the break. A good day all 'round!

More filing at Redbridge, so a dull week. Phone still being repaired, on promise of a new one soon. Saturday morning went to Cardiff via RIAT, which (being my first big airshow) was pretty impressive, and even kept Emily amused. Could have done with a bit longer there - £30's a bit steep for an afternoon, and would have been better by car - but other than that, a good day. Great showing of Hercs, although unfortunately far too many Americans. Free (non-alcoholic) drinks courtesy of Great Western, for the privilege of no air-conditioning on one of the hottest days of the year, but otherwise a painless journey. Met up with Chantelle in Cardiff, gatecrashed a distant-relative's 60th birthday party, got back to her house in Heath (much better!). Went to plastic church, met Cat off her train, went for a trip in a toilet roll on the quayside (thanks Chant! 'Visitor Centre' my arse!) and back to Heath for chocolate fountains and goodbyes to a Japan-bound Chantelle. Home late, -> sleep!

Yet MORE filing. Let loose on a computer for a change, which was just as dull (but at least different). Sent broken phone back to Communicaid AGAIN (they're bloody useless!) - at least now Ideal Fones seem to understand that I really really need a new handset, 6 months on. "Everything's not lost, but I'm working on it" - how true! Rejection from John's, but word of an interview at CAFOD. More filing. Away on Thursday 29th for The Trip - NNPM conference at Brummagin, a stay at Shincliffe, an interview at Le Shaw, and a 'housewarming' in Plymouth. Conference was tiring (didn't get to any workshops, too busy rehearsing!), Durham visit was nice - saw Ali and Dell - but pointless (didn't get the job - stupid interview went too well!), Plymouth was unnecessary (Cat, where were you? I came to warm your new house, and you weren't in!), drive back was long - but not as long as the sleep I had afterwards... zzz...

Hey ho. Back to filing tomorrow! 'Wahey!'

And then there was... er... more!

So I didn't go to Alnmouth with Ali after all, but I did manage to avoid being listed as a University debtor; I didn't do my CCRS essay (whoops!) but I did see the Brighouse and Rastrick band in possibly thir worst-received concert ever, and Prof. Loades down the front; I didn't go with it in mind, but I ended up playing cornet at the CAFOD Harambee Mass - Fr. J was lucky enough to miss it!; I didn't really have the lip, but I played again for the last Mass of term (sob!) at St. Cuthbert's; I missed Father's Day, but then 'twas ever thus; I went for a 'little chat', and I forgot my Simple Gifts - although I got some, unexpectedly, without return; I registered for Congregation, and couldn't see my name on the pass list (that's 'cos it wasn't published until later!); I rushed to Elvet Riverside on the advice of Miss Innocent, who said the results were out - but they weren't; I went at 6, as originally planned... I GOT A 2:I!!!; I went to a shitty Graduation Dinner, and survived several attempts on my life - not all of them by the kitchen's cooking; I went to Barnard Castle on a (wet) Midsummer day, and later to High Force - yay!; term ended, but I went to Fazakerley with Andy, Camilla and Maria for Michael Williams' ordination anyway - what a long day, eh?; we didn't get a cup of tea from a Huddersfielded Fr. John, but survived the journey home anyway; Emma moved to her new house, and we all went out to lunch - followed by a failed attempt at Shrek II - then a delicious dinner at Mr Barfield's, Gilesgate, and a few too many goodbyes for my liking; a quick trip home, St. John Payne fete, a confirmation class, and a pizza; a not-so-quick, overrunning-engineering-work-disrupted trip back up to Durham - and silly University admin; I got to Mass for Ss Peter and Paul, but got roped into doing the bidding prayers (eugh!); I got gowned up for Helen's/Theology's graduation, got soaked, but didn't care (mmm... free be-Chadded alcohol); I waved off my posse, and sat down to my computer. Happy endings. < sigh > < sob > Hope I see y'all again before we are 'silver linings'!

And here's what you missed (but I didn't) ...

John Paul II's birthday; Management Committee meeting; Ascension day Mass, carnage in Dun Cow; Adele and Ros finishing Finals; bloody CCRS; the rumour of a job at Stockton; National Vegetarian Week; Ali finishing Finals, Kev the Right Rev and buffet at Newc; plenty of 'little chats'; Praise and Worship with half a bottle of brandy - then Metaphysics exam; a sleepless night (in the Dun Cow) then Incarnational Theology exam, closely followed by Life in the Spirit at Ushaw; Andy's birthday - Ancient of Days!; a cretin-free Pentecost; a huge Barclaycard bill; June, and Helen finishing Finals; Sacraments exam, rounded off with Praise'n'Worship; Emma finishing Finals, with statutory piss up, a bit of Lazy-DJing, a really really bad final Final...; liquid lunch on the credit card, then ample 'playfulness' at Ampleforth - as per instructions; early Matin-ed mornings, late-opening nights, and a bar in a cupboard; a broken bus with smoking brakes down Sutton Bank; a full Durham PGCE course (bummer); a trip home - with Corpus Christi, European and London Mayoral elections, half a phone, a kilted wedding, and a really big traffic jam; a missed Theology department dinner and Klutage; a missed CCRS essay deadline; an emptying of bank accounts; a 'de-studentising'; a last Praise'n'Worship, and many goodbyes; a very very damp trek to a very very posh Exec handover meal; a Sacred Heart... and six diaconate ordinations. Phew!

Yes, Finals (and Prelims, too, for that matter) start in just under 9 hours' time. Notable papers tomorrow include New Testament (prelim), Christian Ethics, Constitutional Law and Aramaic. Good luck, guys! I'll be joining you a week on Thursday... but until then, I'll just sympathise from afar.

Can't say I've really been up to much since Tuesday. Life seems a bit strange now there's no Monday morning Metaphysics to look forward to - this must be what it's like to be a graduand! (A much better word than 'finalist' methinks.) Tuesday: up and out for Logic (pointless tute) and a long afternoon of just about nothing. Much the same on Wednesday, rounded off with an evening at Ushaw - sober in honour of pending exams / lack of cash. Just as well, really, considering I was up at SILLY O'CLOCK to be back there by 0800, and thence (post caffeine therapy) by a lovely chauffeur'd trip to MY LAST EVER UNDERGRADUATE LECTURE in Logic at Elvet Riverside. Unfortunately not to be my last visit to ER, it being the setting for all my Finals, but at least I'm not at Maiden Castle. Whoever has the misfortune to finish Finals there is indeed a LONG WAY FROM A PUB. (Me? I'm already planning for the Glorious 4th! Pick of a dozen bars, might just visit them all...) Saturday: not much really, some abysmal College food and yet more, and a bit of banter to entertain Ros' exiled Manc friend. Liverpool draw secures us 4th, and Saints whoop Wigan - sorry Maria B, but then you 'always did prefer football anyway'! Hmm!

Up early this morning, listened to a cracker of a Sunday Worship on Radio 4 that really got me in the mood for Morning Prayer. Commiserated with Chantelle for her being crap, bored, tired, unprepared, worried, hungry, lonely, etc. Kicked her out, went to Mass. Performed a major aisle-bound manoeuver to beat Angela Costley to the chalice (YES! Sidesteps from three pews behind your 'opponent' RULE!) and, because Durham congregants are all so polite, ended up drinking about half a pint of 'sherry' after Communion - well F.P. WILL fill 'em to the top... General Dun Cow-erage, scrounged a curry, then... (zzz) bed. 'Night.

...alive and working in Giggi's hairdressers. 'Just a trim, please' I says - and what do I get, but a trim PLUS a gouged neck! Now at the prices they charge, they were certainly fleecing me - but why butchering me too???

With the return of Ros, the wandering Wythenshawian, Library Approach is back up to its full complement of slackers. However, there has been some sneaky revision going on (especially in 70a) and evening bar time has been hijacked by the worrying trend of < gulp > 'taking a half pint of fanta upstairs, and reading books'... ARGH!

In other news, Margaret (our 'Darth Vader'-impersonating cleaner) appears to have... er... disappeared at some point in her shift this morning. Her mop bucket is sitting in the corridor, still half full of grey bleach, and the hoover is plugged in outside the library. Has anyone checked inside the lift? Either she's hiding somewhere like that, or the housekeeper has buried her under the SCR lawn. Heck, it's Mary's - why would she stay here of her own volition??? Eek!

Oh, and fingers crossed for a Theology department formal dinner after exams. Ellie and Pat are doing the hard organisational yards (like talking money out of Dougy D) and I'm doing the easy bit - telling them when I'm available for a subsidised piss-up. Looking like being when I'm in Chelmsford, but that's nothing that a bit of easyjet.com can't fix...

Can whoever keeps ringing my mobile please STOP IT - I'm feeling a bit cr*p and really really need to sleep. It's as if somehow you knew I need to keep my phone switched on tonight in particular, and that I've been lying in bed for the last two hours trying to make the room stop spinning so I can get some kip. Just fecking GIVE OVER!

I just love second-guessing College. It's becoming one of my most time-consuming (if not favourite) pastimes. Revision? Exams? Socialising? Nah. You're here to be shafted and pissed on by College - sit down and do as we say! If you want to argue with us, and spend time doing it rather than working for your degree, it's your fault when you fail. St. Mary's College has got a dire academic record anyway, we don't care... Think yourself lucky you haven't been evicted for possession of illegal electrical appliances!

Having sent out two copies of forms about Congregation week (one to home, one to Durham mailbox - no expense spared!) and directed graduands to fill 'em in (but not in duplicate - although I might just do that!) and send off the (rather large) cheques for extra accommodation, I have just heard that we're being moved out into New Building during that week so they can do 'repairs' to Old Building. So that's for residents at St. Mary's Conference Centre in the summer then, is it? It certainly isn't for us graduands and our families. Now I accept that this might simply be bad timing. But why allow current residents of Old Building to pay to 'keep' their rooms until Congregation when you know full well - even if they don't - that they're actually paying to move across to the smallest and shiteist rooms? Had I known this before I paid out nearly £200 to College this morning, I would have told them to stuff it. I could stay at a nice hotel for a few days for the price I'm paying for the privilege of 'keeping my room'! But I don't suppose they wanted us to know that. I wonder when we'll find all this out? Last day of term, I suspect! And the best bit? Guess what the 'repairs' are? Well folks, in June, St. Mary's College is getting a new boiler! Don't forget to test it before October, now!

News just in | Newsflash | Breaking news: Dad's invited mother to graduation. Fecking marvellous. Degree in absentia, anyone???

7/5/2004, 2336: Note to self - 'I will not allow a mistakenly-opened bottle of vintage wine to be an excuse for a resultant night of over-indulgence in the bar I will not allow a mistakenly-opened bottle of vintage wine to be an excuse for a resultant night of over-indulgence in the bar I will not allow a mistakenly-opened bottle of vintage wine to be an excuse for a resultant night of...'

On Chantelle's insistence, and on the back of an abortive attempt at a joint Adele/Naiomi birthday bash, the day began early (0425, to be exact) in preparation for a mammoth May morning celebration. Well the weather was gorgeous, but unfortunately the morris dancers decided to redress the balance by being... er... bloody dire. Thank God they were a few bells short of a bell tower (in both senses!).

So, to the photographic evidence, from left - "No, it's not the New Fire - just a disposable barbecue for bacon butties!"; "It can't be THAT difficult, surely?" (Featuring Will dressed as a frog); "Real men eat quiche / classical musicians venture into folk shite" - conclusive proof...



2347: Just back from a bit of a Hill crawl with Sam and (soft) Chantelle (she who went back to bed until lunchtime!). Good couple of hours out, especially as Sam is Van Mildert's President Elect. Woo! Theologians rule (or at least, we will soon - even if it does mean voting Lib Dem!)

Slept until lunchtime, which was good. (Helen 'I'll be at the doc's by 9' Bedford made an appearance after 1500! Lazy git.) Thought about all the things I was GOING to put in my dissertation, but forgot. Bugger. Very tempted to do a Mk II, making up the extra 2000 words out of all the stuff I've missed - watch this space! In related news, I've cleared the dissertation detritus from my floor, and managed to cram all but seven of my books onto the shelves. Now I've just got to work out what to do with the stuff I removed to make room for the books, then I'll be sorted.

Just found my wallet - had (stupidly) left it in the pocket of my laundry basket from last night. Made for a cheap one in the bar earlier, though. Plenty of entertainment provided by a team of 'rugby players' who insisted on displaying their manhoods through open flys for the duration of their visit to Mary's bar. Needless to say I can understand why they were acting so childishly...

P.S. *DURHAM UNIVERSITY 1ST XV 31 - EXETER UNIVERSITY 1ST XV 24* - Busa Champions, and we rule! Excellent!

Golly gosh, that was a long blog break. Here's the shorthand:

17th-19th April: Did very very little. My diary says I should have been dissermatating, but of course I wasn't...

19th April: Got a letter from the RAF careers people at Linton (dated 2nd April, forwarded via Mary's) to advise that Boulmer trip had been postponed to 26th-28th April for 'operational reasons'. So that'll be the publication of the MOD estates' feasibility study, then? Boulmer to all but shut, surprise surprise - guess they thought they'd have enough to deal with without a load of spotty students snooping around. As it happens, Boulmer got quite a lot of coverage (residents' campaign to 'save' the base, etc.) so probably a good decision in the end. I toyed with the idea of changing my travel details back to Friday, as they had been before I was scheduled to go to Boulmer, but the prices were a lot higher so I stuck with plan A/2 - which meant:

21st April: Packed up my shite - including laptop, folders and piles of books - and got a lift to Stansted (thanks Dad!). In their great wisdom, Easyjet had merged all check-in queues to one huge snaking line. Bloody stupid - people from a dozen flights all lumped together. Needless to say that after waiting for a good half hour, and getting not very far towards the desk, everyone for the Newcastle flight had to be brought forward to save delaying departure. By this time the check-in Charlie looked pretty pissed off - so when I weighed in with 49 kg of luggage (not counting my laptop and all the heavy stuff stashed in my hand luggage!) she wasn't about to cut me any slack. Instead she wrote out an invoice for �120 excess baggage charge. Now of course Easyjet are completely within their rights to do this - but it didn't stop me pulling the "Is that the student rate, mate?" card on the kid on the payments desk. End result? �120 bill becomes �40 bill, making the flight still marginally cheaper than the train! Got back to Durham with my 10 stones of luggage and SAT DOWN for a while! Unpacked aforementioned shite, reconstructed the scattered pieces of hifi and 'puter, and had a very nice (if pongy) pizza with Helen. 15 minutes for delivery from Belmont - we must have been their only customers! (Durham's so nice without the students... )

22nd April: Diary says 'print, bind and submit dissertation'. HA! Sat around. Went to Safeway (had to get food, as there's only conference food before the beginning of term) and decamped to the SCR lawn to eat the world's biggest strawberrries. Started to get The Fear at about 2030, so started dissertation at 2100.

23rd April: St. George's Day! Nothing in the way of celebration (at least, I couldn't see any!) so cracked open a bottle of Spitfire. And very nice it was, too! Got 'round to doing 3000 words of dissertation. Stayed up far too late, forgetting the prospect of a full day's CCRS tomorrow. Shit!

24th April: Bloody CCRS - bloody pointless, bloody 'Religious Education: Theories and Principles'. Bloody nice day, too - bloody nice walk back to College. Bloody hell - 1800 already - better do some work! Up until 0400, wrote very little. Re-emergence of The Fear.

25th April: Sunday. 1100 Mass at St. Cuthbert's (very strange seeing the place student-less) then faffed around College. Met Granda 'en route' to his golf weekend at Morecambe, had nasty College tea. Big Fear, up until 0530 doing dissermatation - less than 36 hours to deadline.

26th April: Monday. Up 0800 to 'go to Metaphysics tutorial' when in fact I wandered around College all morning. Started Big Must-Finish-Dissertation Push 'after lunch at 1300' (actually more like 1730). Ranted about vegetarianism and social teaching until 2300, ranted some more about metaphysics of Eucharist until 0500. Watched dawn. Concluded and introduced dissertation, did formatting stuff. Showered and re-dressed at 0830, printed dissertation, got it bound at the Union and handed it into the Department at 1200, a shameful 4 hours ahead of deadline. I feel so defiled! (Oh, and sleepy. I've been up for 100 hours out of the last 110, and continuously for the last 41... I'm going to bed!)

Well this has been my longest blog break since February, when the blog break record was around the 21 year mark.

Far from being the productive time I'd planned, this week has almost been a non-event. Contrary to what you guys might have hoped and prayed for, I have still not started my dissertation. Panic has yet to kick in, though, and fingers crossed it will do before it gets too late to unknot them and write. Useless fact of the day? Socrates was a vegetarian. (Hey, that's four words - only eleven thousand, nine hundred and ninety six to go!)

No abseils or festivals or long-distance trips to speak of this time 'round. I've been making a conscious effort to get up before lunchtime, and mostly succeeded; but as I say, it's not as if I've done anything with my afternoons! Next week will be different, whether I like it or not. I'll have to write 4000 words on Sunday, and the same (but not the same words) on Monday and Tuesday, if I'm to keep to my weak goal of finishing my dissertation by the experiential end of the vac. To be honest, it's not going to happen.

Wednesday marks the beginning of a transition period at RAF Boulmer (via Durham to dump my gear and speed-iron some shirts) which couldn't really have come at a worse time but I'm going to try to get as much out of as possible. I'll be back in Durham early on Friday to go to Newcastle to shop for Adele's monster 21st birthday present, then at College to meet Granda, the self-proclaimed pack-horse, who has kindly offered to lug my books up the A1 'on his way' to Morecambe. Friday afternoon is where the Fun begins. From the time I can reasonably expect to be rid of Granda, say 1900, I will have 69 hours before deadline. Take away the 8 hours on Saturday I'll be at CCRS, that's 61; then Metaphysics tutorial on Monday morning, that's 59... I'm already discounting the non-compulsory lectures! I know I've got a meeting at 0900 on Tuesday morning, and ideally I'd be binding the thing on my way home from that. It's going to be very tight, and (likely) very shite. When did I get this lazy???

Update: 2356 - 18/4/2004: 4000 words on Sunday MY ARSE. Granda now to come to Durham on Saturday evening, and he wants to go out for dinner and leave the next day... SHIT SHIT SHIT! That's just not going to work. I'm going to ring Alex at STN and see if I can call in a few hundred favours/drinks by exceeding my baggage weight limit by about 25kg! Please God let him be working check-in on Wednesday...

Update: 1540 - 19/4/2004: 4000 words on Sunday, Monday (ad nauseum) MY ARSE. Letter today from RAF Boulmer dated 7th April (but then it had been redirected via Mary's) to advise that visit has been postponed until 26th-28th April. I'd just like to say how much that hasn't completely fugged up my plans at all, and how I didn't even have to rearrange my initial travel arrangements to accommodate it in the first place either, which is just as well otherwise I might be REALLY PISSED OFF!

"This is the night in which heavenly things are united to those of earth, and things divine to those which are human..."

The Exsultet - one of those hauntingly beautiful chants that rings in your ears for ages (but perhaps not fifty days!). It's one of my earliest memories of being in OLI church at the Easter vigil. An elderly man (though one who seems to not have aged since I first saw him) intones the Exsultet in darkness, and everyone is transfixed. I can't remember seeing him anywhere else, not even in the choir, and I can't remember him ever singing anything else - it's almost as if he lives for that one day a year. The priest should sing it, I know; it says a lot about our stagnated liturgy that it happens the same way every year, I know; but there is something very special about hearing that guy sing those words, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

Of course the vigil, and the season of Easter itself, is only but begun in the Exsultet. There is so much else - and so many people baptised and confirmed (wahey!) - the evening goes on and on. Added to the fact that by the time I get out, I have been there for four hours, and it's as good as past my bedtime. None of this seems to matter, because I'm buzzing for the rest of the night and needless to say I won't get much good sleep tonight. Shut up, Rachel - you know you haven't got any Easter eggs and there'll be no one else in the house tomorrow to share it with! Who knows, I might even end up doing some work.

2049: 'Work'? Ha! 'Get pissed' more like! Sod 'em all. Let them go 'round to mum's like friggin' happy families. I'll sit here with my bottle, thank you muchly. 'Brothers and sisters in Christ' my arse.