day seven

I'm not very good at endings. I usually find that everyone else is having a party and I'm just feeling a bit low. Today, the end of term, was different. I was rather glad to have missed the party, which was bizarrely raucous, by some accounts. More than that I was quite happy sitting chatting. I think it was that for once I did not feel that anyone ought to like me. I never actually thought that you understand, but I think that's how I acted. As if somehow it was someone else's fault that I was not joining in. But how much sense does that make? Not much, I reckon. Pride finds its way into the oddest corners of our lives doesn't it...

day six

I made the rash decision to run the school Relay today. That's about 2.6 km, which takes the quickest boys about 9 minutes, and the slow and unfit adults anything up to 15 minutes. Anyway, I decided to run it because it would be good for me. Good for me that is to go round really slowly and be passed by everyone. At one point this midget (or possibly young pupil) shot passed me, like he was a rabbit being chased by a grey hound. It was all very humbling...which seemed to be the point. Do it, do it to your best exactly because you're really bad at it and then all that ego that wants somehow to believe that you could have been a contender is simply drowned out by a huge wave of reality. I recommend it. (oh, except don't write a blog about it afterwards because then you may feel smug.)

day five

Caleb and I have a game. It's called 'Food'. I chase him around pretending to eat his toes, but never quite catching him, while he runs away giggling. We have rhyme which goes with it:

I like toes for breakfast
I like toes for tea
I like toes for supper
So bring those toes here to me

Toes go nicely with sausages
Toes go well with chips
And when I taste that crunch in my cornflakes
I know I'm eating your tips

Well, it's pretty mediocre poetry, but he loves it and so do I...

day five

Sitting in a children's concert tonight, I heard the parents behind me moaning about a 'vicar' - "he doesn't look at me when I talk to him". It set me thinking. I wondered why. Was she being exceptionally boring? I do know people who will make me stare into space just for something to occupy my mind while they ramble on. Was he failing to listen? I know how easy it is to be always looking to the next thing, especially if you are busy. But just now I had another thought. What if he is just being a normal male, who, let's be honest, often stare into space when talking to each other. I guess because eye contact is the beginning of competition or conflict, so a non- confrontational conversation must avoid continuous direct eye contact. I don't know. What I do know is that is is usually bizarrely picky to moan because someone doesn't look at you when you talk to them (maybe they're keeping an eye their children, for example) - and that people are often bizarrely picky when it comes to dealing with the 'clergy'. Oh well, I've got that to look forward to...

day four

Tried the humility thing today - golly, it's difficult. I'll say one thing though, it seems to make it a lot easier to talk with people. I was having a chat over coffee with a colleague when I thought of something really interesting to say - then came a thought - what about him? So rather than tell my story (supposedly in the hope it would move the conversation on), I asked him about his experience. Surprise, surprise, it was a much more fruitful chat. The real problem, of course, is that as soon as you think you're being humble, then self-confidence (by which I mean confidence in the self) reappears and you've stopped being humble. In fact, I've really blown it with this plog! Oh well, never mind...

day three

I found myself drifting off during the sermon as usual today - I never mind longer talks because it gives some serious opportunities for 'letting the tide roll away'. This time I found myself examining the roots of my own sinfulness (Why is it by the way that there is no ordinand course entitled 'Sin'?). It was one of those treasure hunts where each discovery produces a clue to the next. I thought I'd got there when I got one level, prayer ( or need thereof) only to realise there was another one below - more like unpeeling an onion really, then. At last I got to humility (also extreme lack thereof), at which point the preacher broke into my conscious with the words 'humble yourself'. Uh oh. Spot on. Is anyone else like this? Continually growing, flourishing and then tripping up? Well here lies the answer: if my people who are called by my name will here my voice and humble themselves...

day two

I did a bit of work on my latest 'portfolio' today, copying the list of requirements into the final document, when...uh oh...I discovered that what I had written only covered half of the first requirement. Or, to put it differently, instead of being nearly there, I was only half or even a third of the way through. Quick check - can I get away with it. Quick answer - no. So it's been back to the drawing board. I think I know what to do, but I again have no idea where I'll find the time to do it. Never mind - it's always like that at the moment. Oh and Uganda is unlikely - the best flight takes about 36 hours to get there - a definite no-no with young children. Next year?

day one

Well not really - it's more like day 300 but it seemed to good time to start - a little late but nevertheless not too late. So what's it like being an ordinand? Well no different than being anyone else I suspect, except that a discussion of cassocks seems to be somehow relevant, even if a 'cassocks and canapes' evening turned into an all night job - well, what do you expect red-blooded men to do if you invite them to a party with such a soppy title. By the way, I do not stay up all night - it's the young who can manage that. I feel shattered about 10 p.m. these days.