A Journeyman's Log

The more I read or see of the Archbishop of York the more I like him and his views. If you have 15 minutes read his City of Peace Lecture to Newcastle City Council on 3 February, 2010. Well worth the time.

1 March, 2010

Marian and I have just returned from a meal at a Spanish restaurant opposite Westminster Cathedral. The food was excellent, the young woman who served was very helpful and friendly and the place was packed with people enjoying the end of the work week. In terms of noise levels, I got a sore throat talking to my son who was sitting next to me. No way could we converse across the table. Under the din some music strove to be heard. A great evening.

19 February, 2010

Yes, we made it. So did hundreds of others. Little realising that the cathedral was such a popular tourist spot, we arrived at the end of a long queue to pay the entrance fee. An excellent audio guide added £4, but was worth every penny. And it is a really remarkable building. The guide gives historical background to the debates about the building and its decorations, with the Reformation much closer then than now. Church leaders wanted plain, not anything that reminded of Rome and Romishness. Over the years much has been added to bring colour; my favourite is the mosaics of broken coloured glass in the ceiling high over the Quire-three shallow domes showing creation’s phases. In places it’s clear how the politics of European struggles and then imperial affairs dominated public perceptions; the famous are interred with a singular lack of humility, apart from Christopher Wren, the cathedral’s designer, who lies under a simple slab with a nearby wall plaque inscribed in Latin chosen by his son to explain who lies there. Horatio Nelson’s tomb was designed for a cardinal who fell out with his monarch, the cardinal’s hat being replaced by a coronet to transform the tomb from ecclesiastical to military. Another change in practice was that of commemorating ordinary soldiers who fell in battle, rather than their magnificent leaders. This was a 20th Century change, probably after the magnificent buffoons in charge caused so many deaths by misunderstanding how warfare needed to accommodate new weaponry during World War I. Beyond the high altar is a chapel commemorating the US fighters who died in the second World War. Instead of huge stonework a glass case displays a book inscribed with the names of the fallen; yesterday dozens of Wilsons were listed. A page is turned each day. My wife had major heart problems last year; this year she is so much better that she ventured to climb up to the whispering gallery, then up to the stone gallery and finally up to the golden gallery, 528 steps and 85 metres above the cathedral floor. For me, I enjoyed the misty views over London, but as much the sight of centuries old brickwork that forms the inner dome high above the intersection of nave and transept below.

19 February, 2010

For a few days Marian and I are staying in Central London at our son’s and daughter-in-law’s flat. It’s really close to Victoria railway station, next to which is a bus stand, so we can get around easily at no cost using our bus passes. Old age has at least one compensation.

It was a couple of years ago I first heard the Penguin Cafe Orchestra on 6 Radio, the BBC’s radio channel on digital radio (DAB) where you can hear modern music with some meaning. The track played was The Sound Of Someone You Love Going Away And It Doesn’t Matter. The music fitted my mood that evening and the title made me laugh. Eventually, this summer I was given their album Penguin Cafe Orchestra. The first track is so happy it made me dance. I love happy music.

15 July, 2009

Last weekend our local Blockbusters had an offer of four DVDs for four nights for £10. Marian and I had already decided that we would choose one each for our weekend chill out, so we chose Slumdog Millionaire, The Secret Life of Bees, Changeling and The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas. For once we enjoyed each film; often we feel thoroughly downhearted at the depressing plot or lack of hope or redemption in recent stories. Not that these were particularly hope filled. Both Slumdog and Bees were more optimistic and fanciful than hopeful. Changeling and The Boy raised interesting questions – the first in a long series of US navel gazing about internal corruption and the second about the consequences to oneself of one’s own choices for evil. If you only want a superficial, unrealistically happy film that skirts real questions of life and morality, choose Mamma Mia. Or a thousand others. Meanwhile, I’d recommend these four.

15 July, 2009

Years back I bought a history of Ghengis Khan in Bangalore airport. The style is a mix of travelogue and history revealed, as the author travels around Mongolia in the late 20th Century. Coincidentally, shortly after her birthday, Marian and I saw a film set in Mongolia about the camel who cried. Note I used the personal relative pronoun there; that’s because the first-time mother camel didn’t bond with her baby. The family’s efforts to ensure the little camel is fed and mothered properly are the core of the story. As parents, we both felt the tension and the hopes of the nomadic family, who cared for these and other camels on the steppe. If you can track down a DVD, it’s a great film–somebody’s film school project, too. Back to the book. One new word I learned from it was debouch, which is what a river does when it broadens out on a wide plane entry to a sea or lake. The author also likened the effects of a Mongolian ice storm to a carapace, the shell of a tortoise. Such a covering denies food to the otherwise hardy horses bred there, and leads to early death. As to Ghengis Khan, we are still exploring pre-Khan history.

2 July, 2009

One of Marian’s birthday books is Douglas Coupland’s Life After God. At first Coupland’s style in this book–the first of his I’ve read–amused me. I laughed out loud at his character’s description of human history, basically 5,000 years spoiling the planet. Then I found the rest rather depressing and hopeless. Too many expectations laid at the door of relationships, too much early-life hopelessness and all lived out in the knowledge that God doesn’t exist and humans don’t need God anyway. Ultimately there is a glimmer of hope, in an enigmatic kind of open-ended, what is that about, kind of manner. For Marian and me, having spent April this year dealing with her dangerous heart condition, its treatment and the physical and emotional consequences, knowing God is there in all the turmoil has kept us sane and, almost above all, hopeful. I’d say there is God After Life.

30 June, 2009

My birthday present this year from the family was a barbeque. My youngest son delivered it last Saturday, and later Marian, Rachel, Stephen and I had our first meal out on our parched parcel of grass. This was my first at lighting a charcoal BBQ, first at cooking sausages and burgers without mixing up ordinary, gluten-free and low-calorie items. In the end, no one died and all survivors has a jolly nice time.

30 June, 2009

Travels are mainly over, so no interesting journeys to write about. But, learning continues, for example I learned last week that soaking comfrey in water produces an excellent feed for tomato plants. I rediscovered that Sherlock Holmes used heroin, at least he did in The Hound of the Baskervilles, which I read this month. Therein was the lovely word darkling, as in the darkling sky. These days we would use darkening, but Conan Doyle’s choice has a nicer sound.

28 June 2009