A pigeon, some wasps and a cup of coffee…please!
What do you get if you cross a black and white pigeon with two wasps and a mega-large americano? A cosmopolitan coffee experience in Portadown!
Whilst my trusty Rover 25 was getting a nice new pair of brakes I decided to do coffee and sermon prep in a pleasant non-threatening environment. After a 5 minute dander with my laptop strapped to my back I decided on the new “O’Brien’s”, just beside the church. After avoiding the unfortunately placed dog poo at the front door I wandered inside and over to the counter. I ordered a large americano and fumbled in my pocket for a couple of pound coins. Something moved, behind the big red sofa to my right. I glanced at the girl behind the counter and she shot me a nervous, slightly flustered, glance back. Eventually a black and white pigeon tottered out from behind the sofa. “Do you know there’s a pigeon in here” I said helpfully. “Yeah” she said with a sigh “we’ve been trying to get him out all morning”. I took my coffee to the other side of the cafe and opened my laptop. Apparently it takes 2 O’brien’s workers, half a loaf of bread and 25 minutes to tease a pigeon out of a coffee shop. It only takes one ministry student and a second-hand newspaper to kill two wasps.
1 comment August 9, 2008
Rubbish-Dump Spuds
this is a potato
Tuesday is the first day of my working week and what a day it’s been. I went to bed yesterday evening (Monday) feeling very pleased with myself for laying a 5ft path in my back garden, and I vowed to “kill dead things” when I woke up today (Tuesday). I woke up late and subsequently very peed off. Sporting my new pyjamas I crawled to the kitchen in agony feeling like i’d done ten rounds with Mike Tyson and looking like a geriatric.
No milk. Black coffee. Bah!
Showered, shaved and feeling much better I shuffled to the study and discovered that I had lots of incredibly important face-booking, blog-reading and e-mailing to do. 2 hours later and my afternoon entertainment had arrived at the door. I greeted them, we drank coffee and went book shopping. Now it’s 4:30pm.
Heading home I console myself that there’s a good 2 hours before heading out for my dinner invitation. One mile from the house I randomly bump into my mother and her mate who have been out shopping for wedding outfits. “Who’s wedding?” i ask. “Oh no-one in particular, its just good to be prepared for every eventuality”. If they’re holding out for my wedding they’d better have supplies!
6:30pm and my Mother and her friend head off home and I head for my dinner. Its a lovely, good, wholesome dinner which contained three of my ‘five-a-day’ portions. We ate potatoes that had been grown in the garden. I - all of a sudden - became terribly and genuinely interested in the art of growing potatoes. I asked my hosts lots of questions and they patiently told me that I could grow my own potatoes in a half barrel of soil and mud if i wanted to. If I plant in February I can harvest in June and I’d get dozens of potatoes for my efforts. “You can’t go wrong” he said “After the harvest thanksgiving last year we threw some leftover potatoes into the rubbish dump at the church graveyard. We had a great crop of potatoes in June, and without even trying” he told me proudly. “Did you eat them?” I asked. “Oh no, sure they grew in a rubbish dump in a graveyard, why would we eat them?!” I blushed.
I’m going to get a half barrel of mud and muck and chuck in a few spuds in February. I’ll be a farmer by June!
It’s 10:30pm… I really ought to do some work!
4 comments July 22, 2008
Doing the Lambeth Walk…Oi!
“Any Time you’re Lambeth Way
Any Evening, any day
You’ll find us all (well…most of us)
Doin’ the Lambeth Walk”
The Lambeth Conference is a decadel gathering of bishops from the Anglican Communion, who assemble at the invitation of the Archbishop of Canterbury. During this 2 week conference they deliberate, debate, discuss, drink coffee and cause controversy. However there is one bishop who is walking his own version of the Lambeth walk: Bishop Gene Robinson of New Hampshire, USA. Consecrated whilst wearing a bullet-proof vest in 2003, Bishop Robinson is the first openly gay Anglican bishop in the Communion. 880 bishops were invited to Lambeth this year yet Bishop Robinson was not on Rowan William’s guest list. He came anyway - (I assume he had his flights booked in advance). Out of the 880 bishops thought to have been invited, approximately 200 have declined the invitation. Although not obliged to comment as to their reasons, it is speculated that they are not attending because of the recent decisions and resolutions made by the liberal wing of the Anglican Communion. Women Bishops in England, Gay Bishops in America, and the blessing of the marriage of two gay priests in England are contributing factors to the tension within the Anglican Communion. But will this be enough to break the back of this Anglican Camel? Bishop Gene Robinson is a complex figure. A struggling homosexual; ordained as a priest; married then divorced; involved in a monogamous same-sex relationship; consecrated as a bishop; and a recovering alcoholic. Is this same man single-handedly capable of causing an irrepairable schism within the Anglican Communion? or is is he a sinful man, saved by grace, sent to challenge our interpretations of biblical texts regarding homosexuality?
One one hand, Bishop Robinson is claimed to be a trouble maker, showing up where he is not invited. On the other hand he claims to come in peace asking ”how can we hold onto one another while we figure this out?” (Andrew Marr show, BBC)
Although not invited, Gene Robinson is at Lambeth. Would you talk to him? All comments gratefully received!
“Ev’rything’s free and easy,
Do as you darn well pleasey,
Why don’t you make your way there,
Go there, stay there,Once you get down Lambeth way,
Ev’ry evening, ev’ry day,
You’ll find yourself doin’ the Lambeth walk.”
4 comments July 17, 2008
Beards
If beard growing became a national sporting activity, I strongly suspect that the organisers would soon find themselves in the High Court amidst accusations of sexism, and ageism. It is true to say that hair is a fussy commodity which only grows on the chins certain specimens. Those challenged in this way include; babies, pre-pubescent boys and pre-menopausal women. Everyone else sprouts hair freely.
I do not fall into any of the above categories yet I am beardless. Why? Because I choose to be. I make an effort, spend money and take time to be able to unashamedly call myself a beardless man. Don’t be fooled with phrases such as “I’m thinking of growing a beard” or “I’m trying to grow a beard” or “It took me ages to grow this beard”, because essentially anyone who has a beard has only succeeded in one thing… doing nothing. Yes, a beard is the nasty side-effect of non-activity. Now I am aware that some of you may be donning a beard and perhaps even stroking it fondly as you read these words. So before I am accused of beardism, let me categorically state that I have no problem with your beard (or what you do with it). Just don’t expect me to congratulate you for gaining a growth on your face which, quite frankly, takes about as much effort as gathering dust in an empty house.
The top five “beardoes” - as voted by the British public - are: (in reverse order)
- B.A. Baracus - “Pity the fool”
- Papa Smurf
- Catweazle
- Uncle Albert
- Gandalf
- Hillary Clinton - This look didn’t really work out for you did it Hillary?!
4 comments July 15, 2008
Carla Bruni and me
I have recently been converted to the sweet and folky muses of Carla Bruni. I even went as far as to purchase her album “quelqu’un m’a dit”. Most of the time I’m blissfully unaware of her lyrics but It doesn’t stop me from enjoying the listening experience. In fact I often make up my own titles for the songs. Perhaps you too will be converted to her wonderfully intoxicating voice. Click on the link below to hear her dulcet tones.
(Also check out link opposite)
Loose translation “It tells me that our lives are not worth much, they spend a moment to fade as the roses. It tells me that the time slip is a bastard that our sorrows he made coats, however, someone told me … (refrain)… whether you m’aimais again. This is someone who told me that you m’aimais….”
All translations of “m’aimais” greatfully received… don’t be shy now
Add comment June 28, 2008
Won Ton Soup
So it’s a blustery Tuesday night in a strange town. (Strange as in ‘unfamiliar’ not strange as in ‘hello-nice-to-meet-you-have-you-met-my-wife-who’s-also-my-sister!’). I have just spent 3 hours of my evening in a mildly interesting meeting. I spoke once at the meeting only to say thanks to the person on my left who picked up my pen from the floor. I accidently dropped it and it had landed under my seat out of my eye range. I kept bending down to find it, then shifting position and bending down again, achieving nothing except a very red face. The person to my left – who had been equally silent – reached down with little effort and returned it to my possession. I muttered ‘thanks’ whilst raising my eyebrows slightly for some unknown reason. Not only was I the only mute in the room but I now had a beetroot coloured face and appeared to be hitting on the middle-aged pen-finding lady on my left.
By 11pm I needed a drink! I couldn’t have a drink so instead I decided to treat myself to a Chinese take-away – hence being in a strange town on a blustery Tuesday night.
The pleasant Chinese lady behind the counter asked me if I was ready to order. I was, on one condition: “Is your honey, chilli chicken sticky and crispy?” The answer was affirmative so I ordered.
“Anything else?” she replied.
“Emm, yes can I also have one tin?” This is where it all went wrong.
“Wonton?”
“eh..” I laughed nervously “no…sorry, just one tin of coke”
“Ok so it’s a honey and chilli chicken with chips, wonton soup and a coke, that’ll be £9.25 please”
“Em, actually I was saying ‘one tin’ not ‘wonton’. I just want one tin… of coke”
Slight hesitation
“Yes that is all right” said the server with her unflustered smile, “that’s £9.25”
I gave her a tenner and she gave me 75p.
I got home, ate my honey and chilli chicken, drank my coke and poured my wonton down the toilet.
By 12.25am I still needed a drink!
2 comments June 25, 2008
Lilac and yellow clash!
Exactly 2 weeks ago I was attending an annual conference in Belfast. A cocktail of laziness, sunstroke and a visitor from Kilkenny prevented me from seeing sense and taking the Metro into the capital. Instead I chose the speedy and luxurious option and drove the Rover. My lovely car comes in for a lot of criticism from many people who can be heard scoffing behind the steering wheels of their overpriced Renaults, Volkswagens, Peugeots and Fords. They mock the subtle lilac/blue tints and the chrome trim of the Rover. It may look like the choice vehicle for every suburban granny, but appearances can be deceiving!
I can forgive these aforementioned philistines but what truly offended me was our involuntary receipt of a big yellow parking fine, issued on 3rd June 2008 at precisely 15:22.
My immediate annoyance at the sight of this ticket on my windscreen ebbed away over the course of a few days. My annoyance was soon replaced with joy and laughter when I was informed that I could easily pay my fine online at www.roadsni.gov.uk. In addition to this convenient and hassle free payment method, I was overjoyed to learn that if I paid within 14 days I would receive a discount!! How generous!
The cherry on the cake however, was being able to view photos of my illegally parked Rover on the government website (see above). The traffic attendant had taken 5 photo’s altogether including an artistic shot of the big orange sign I had obviously not seen earlier that day.
So I suppose every cloud has a silver lining after-all. For a mere £30: I travelled to and from the conference in luxury; I learned how to pay a parking fine online; I got a 50% discount; realised that the colours lilac and yellow should never go together; and obtained some rather fetching photos of my stylish Rover (all included in the price).
Add comment June 17, 2008
Snow to Eskimos?
Sunny Saturday at an Irish car boot sale - What a Job!
(And they look so smug!)
Add comment June 13, 2008
Useless trivia
What was I doing 10 years ago?
I was working 9 till 5 in a reasonably stable, reasonably well paid, reasonably respectable and reasonably bearable job whilst resisting with all my will the call of God into Christian ministry. I was in between relationships (story of my life) and visiting friends with houses. Often at odds with my mother due to my impatience and lack of sensitivity. My music tastes included Bon Jovi, Garth Brooks and Brian Houston (no relation). I have remained a fan of only 1 of these artists! I had been a Christian for 2 years so I obviously knew it all by that stage, until I found out that the only thing I really knew was how much I didn’t know. I had many friends in many places and really didn’t know who I was.
Five snacks I enjoy in a perfect, non weight-gaining world
Ice-cream Mars Bar
Cocktail sausages
Sensations (lime flavour)
Cheese
Pizza (can this be classed as a ‘snack’?)
Five snacks I enjoy in the real world
Spelga toffee yogurt
Cheese on toast (Beggs’ style)
Sensations (lime flavour)
Coffee (can this be classed as a ‘snack’?)
Toast
Five things I would do if I were a billionaire:
Only tell Phil and Mum and give them half (to buy their silence)!
I would sponsor many worthy charities and churches doing worthwhile ministry
Buy a big house on the North coast which had uninterrupted views. This house would probably have its own gym with sea views. I’d probably never use it!
Employ a cleaner who could double up as a relationship guru
Travel a little.
Five jobs that I have had:
Not in any particular order:
Driving a “Doctor on Call” around north and west Belfast during the night and wee small hours.
Community Outreach Worker
Regional Youth and Support Worker in the Donegal and Monaghan Regions!
Assistant Minister (Presbyterian Church, Ireland)
Method’s Engineer (Bombardier, Belfast)
Three of my habits:
Prayer
Afternoon napping power napping (when possible)
Not making my bed (what’s the point of this?)
Five places I have lived:
Whiteabbey, Belfast
Rathcoole, Belfast
Swann’s Scoss, Co. Monaghan (sort of)
Portadown, Co. Armagh
Liscooley, Co. Donegal
1 comment June 13, 2008
The debate of the red button
There have been many great debates throughout the history of the world: philosophical, theological, scientific, political and cultural to categorise a few. Our world has been shaped and directed by high brow thinking and debating which established theories, doctrines, formulae and rules. Einstein’s theory of relativity was borne out of hours of painful study and debate. The Patristic Fathers debated significantly over the formulation of the doctrine of Trinity. Freud’s theory of the unconscious mind still leaves neuro-surgeons scratching their heads.
The debates of today, however, have less implications for the fabric of society or the development of science than those of our ancestors, yet we engage them with equal fervour. I have no proof with which to bolster my theory but i wish to share it none-the-less. (clears throat) The single most debated issue facing the Great British public today, is that of the red button!
Interactive digital television has taken me captive. Once upon a time I was free. Free to live, to leave my home and go out places, to chat with my neighbours, free to enjoy reading a newspaper on a Saturday morning and free to grow some vegetables in my back garden (I freely chose not to do that though). But now I’m a prisoner. Held in my armchair with cords of curiosity and flicking through the channels in a desperate panic that I might be missing something. I’m constantly being instructed at the end of each programme that I can be privy to some fascinating insights if i ‘press my red button…now’.
I remember the days when one used the red button to utilise teletext. I further remember that one was often instructed ‘not to push the red button’. The red button on the escalators; in the school woodwork room; in an aeroplane cockpit, were all forbidden fruit and were only to be pushed in an emergency, not willy nilly or at the drop of a TV presenters hat! What is the world coming to?
I’m going to break free - free from armchair bondage - and exercise my right to not push the interactive red button and instead push the red ’standby’ button and get on with my life.
Add comment June 12, 2008
