Fire dance

If you look carefully in the centre of the fiery circle you can just make out Paul twirling a flaming stick. This is his new hobby apparently and he's quite good at it - even I have to admit that. I'd be happier if he didn't do it in the brand new trousers I bought him but it appears they are 'ideal for fire stick twirling' because of their thickness. Oh. Right.

Fantastic Christmas dinner at Michael and Charlie's yesterday but I might blog about that separately later. Let me just say that it was brilliant not to be in the kitchen for once (in 29 years we worked out).

Out of reach

Despite the fact that I'm not actually responsible for Christmas dinner this year, I'm cooking various stuffings and sauces this morning, somewhat hindered by an over-excited dalmatian puppy who has so far demolished the compost bucket and consequently thrown up on the kitchen floor, made off with the bread for the bread sauce and failed to understand that the food I hang on the washing line is for the birds and not him. Methinks it's time for a doggy walk. Meanwhile I finally found a place out of reach of even the Long Leggety Loke Monster.

Pupdate
He's swiped his owner's bacon sandwich. Hah!

Sofa so good

The first piece of furniture we ever bought when we were first married was this sofa. It cost an arm and a leg in those days but we were determined to have it because it matched a chair I had been given as a twenty first birthday present from my godmothers. It cost another arm and a leg to be re-upholstered a few months ago and so I ask myself - why is that not me sitting on it?

I was pretty corpsed but elated yesterday after the Advent Carol Service. Kimberlyexcelled herself once again by drawing everything together - music and words - into something magical. The twist this year was that apart from the Bible readings, every word was written by members of the two congregations. The theme was 'the day my baby was born' - an emotive subject for many - and what with the seasonal frisson and the glorious music, there was an electricity in the church that defied the damp walls and the puddles on the floor to leave us all wrung to the withers. Mr Blethers, who was responsible for the music, had no voice and had to pretend to be Monteverdi on the organ and the tenor from Rothesay had just enough voice to see him through his verse of 'In the Bleak Midwinter', but as Mrs B points out in her far better account of the affair than this, it all maybe served to add to good tension.

So I needed that sofa, doggies.

PS - don't worry, I didn't sit on the floor or curl up in a dog bed, but chased the opportunists back to their rightful place - in front of the fire. It's a dog's life.

In-car-cerated together again

The Spotty One is back with us for Christmas. He's remembered the drill here, including how to squash into the car with J and J who seem very happy to see him. Their state of bedraggledness is due to the weather, which having been crisply sunny has now reverted to storm conditions.

I had such a lovely birthday I don't know where to start. It just kept getting better from Monday with family and friends and a super party to Tuesday (the actual day) with a trip to Glasgow and a surprise visit to the Apple Store to get an iPhone, which is the most desirable phone on the planet. Not only that, but I had the undivided attention of the beautiful Mark (of the dreamy brown eyes and killer eyelashes) for an hour as he showed me how to work it. However, Ol' Blue Eyes (he of the zero grey hairs despite being nearly as old as me) was really the man of the moment of course and he even admitted to a certain smugness having set it all up.

As for me, I don't mind being incarcerated with my dogs and my new toys (I got a digital camera too) and the party leftovers to eat up, not to mention new books to read. Bring on the bus and ferry pass.

Reconciliation

I'm proud of us at Holy T. Yesterday Kimberly hosted a discussion about homosexuality in the church over coffee and cakes at the rectory. I was in two minds whether to go, but in the end I did and I was glad.

Yes, everyone there (except the rector) was of my generation and older, yes there was a wide range of viewpoints, but most of us put our cards on the table and the discussion was both frank and honest. And most of all, we listened to each other. As people's stories came out, it became obvious that here was a group of people whose lives had been touched by the issues of welcoming openly gay clergy (particularly bishops) and blessing same-sex unions in the church, but were reaching out for reconciliation and doing so with both compassion and dignity.

Gosh, I wish the whole Anglican Communion was like us!

Bus Pass Scandal

Michael's going to beat me to a bus pass! He's already applied for his and I can't get mine till December. Bah! Now I'll never be first with the gossip. He's getting used to the new pills after horrible side-effects meant more time off work, but he's going to change to something else anyway. Lots of useful info and support from the Southern General.

The Spotty One is still here but probably going home tomorrow. I'm going to miss him (and Paul). Jonny and Jess will too when their chew and treat ration goes back to normal. It'll be nice not to have to hide the toilet rolls though.

Spotty Intruder

Loki is making himself thoroughly at home at Heathbank. J and J seem to have accepted the Spotty One although reckon he's going a bit far sharing beds. We foolishly left the bathroom door open the other day, despite Paul's warnings that the Andrex Puppy has nothing on Loki, and four toilet rolls were thoroughly demolished.

At the moment Michael's here too with his pack, so the pooch count is five! We're off to the Suffering General today to try to get to the bottom of what's going on in M's brain. Prayers appreciated.

Loki

Here is Paul with the latest addition to the Heathbank kennel club. Not sure who is cuter. However, looks belie nature - apparently Loki's already managed to dispatch a pigeon that unwisely landed near his marauding paw. J and J both did likewise when puppies. Hmm - maybe that's pigeons' raison d'etre - as puppy prey.

Two for the price of one

My blog has been the subject of much complaint (again) from family and friends because I don't update. Well today you all get a bargain - two together.

Sunday saw me uncharacteristically absent from church - missing our Lambeth bishop. Luckily Mrs Blethers has plenty to say about that so off you go over there and read about it. As for me, I was at my friend Jennifer's daughter's wedding in Carmunnock.

My record at weddings is not great. The last one I went to - my God-daughter's - had me arriving at the wrong church and consequently arriving late at the right one, and driving back to the hotel sitting in a huge puddle (and no, I'm not that incontinent!) because we left the sun-roof open and there was a thunderstorm, then having to sidle into the hotel looking as if I was that incontinent! In view of that, I decided to leave the linen at home and opted for the high heels and chiffon look so beloved of wedding attendees of a certain age. And yes, I know I am that certain age - that's why I wore it! I nearly asked Mrs Blethers for a loan of her black wedding hat, and indeed it wouldn't have gone amiss, for hats and kilts and posh frocks were the order of the day.

But it was lovely to meet up with old friends again. We're still the staffroom babes from Calderwood. I hope you'll agree!

That's the mother of the bride, glowing in azure btw

Tuesdays

I love Tuesday mornings. It's not a swimming day so I don't have to rush out with my cozzie and a second cup of tea in one of those mug/flask thingies (most of which leak btw). Taking my 'standing-up' pill (alendronic acid for the bones) means I'm not allowed to do anything that requires bending for at least half an hour after getting up, so the morning chores are put on hold. It sounds like a good time to pray, but my method of praying doesn't always work like that, although it is a good time to think about people who might require my attention. Today it's still raining, but with a promise of it clearing up, so I can put off the garden until later. What bliss - maybe I'll post on my blog.

Splish splash

Such an unsatisfactory swim this morning. The pool wasn't properly filled to the level of the perimeter at the shallow end, so annoying choppy waves were set up and it was like swimming in the sea in a force three wind. Bang went my attempts at practising the front-crawl - I just kept on breathing in water and having to flip onto my back to recover. I'm a not-bad swimmer but not a natural water-baby. Well, at least it would give those bored-looking pool attendants something to do if I did drown myself.

Yesterday was the Vestry away-day. We went all the way to the Uig Hall. Nice and close to me, anyhow. It turned out better than I thought it would, and if we didn't actually achieve anything, at least we focussed our thoughts. Maureen and Kimberly were a good team.

Paul wants to get a dog. I think a mutt would be best - preferably a born and bred town dog who would enjoy occasional forays into the countryside. There are so many needing good homes - I hate to think of unwanted puppies. I shall tentatively suggest it. My dogs seem to have taken over next-door's land as well as their own patch. The house has been empty for about three years and so I guess my occasional nipping over to plunder the rhubarb has made them think it's just a part of our garden. Oops - your sins will always find you out, Di!

Doggy woes

Jess really knows how to be poorly. She puts herself to bed and looks woebegone, occasionally emitting small groans and whimpers.

On Tuesday she suffered a Terrible Accident as she dashed after her ball in the woods behind the house. She must have run into a sharp stick because she suddenly yowled and came limping back to me in great distress. When I'd checked that the stick hadn't gone into her mouth or pierced her heart, but had made a nasty cut on her chest which was bleeding profusely, I carried her down the hill and prepared to administer first aid.

Unlike Jonny, who refuses to let anyone near any injuries he sustains, preferring to tough it out in stoical fashion, Jess stretched out on her back on my lap and allowed me to clean the wound, then took herself off to bed where she remained for the rest of the day, only rising for a morsel of dinner. Jonny was attentive, sniffing and giving comforting licks. By evening, the wound had begun to heal, closing up amazingly. By the next day, she was still being careful in the morning but by evening was back to normal, even chasing her ball again.

When we passed the Accident Site, both dogs spent a lot of time sniffing and Jonny followed the scent to the offending stick which I removed. It brought home to me the incredible healing powers of dogs. Often they're up and about and ready to go only hours after an operation. Isn't Nature wonderful?

Ripping yarn

I wanted to post a picture of Fidelio with her spinnaker close-hauled like a foresail. I took it on Saturday afternoon as we zoomed along at almost 7 knots (I love the new log - it works!) moments before it split asunder. Then it ripped even more as Rob struggled to pull it in, ripping the chute as well in the process. To complete the trio of disasters, Rob's hat blew off into the water and we had to do a nifty manoeuvre to recover it - all of which would have made much more exciting photos, but since the camera to computer lead has disappeared into the impenetrable maw of this house, the moment is lost. update: Mrs Blethers kindly lent me a lead so I have the photo after all.

We got the feeling Fidelio was trying to tell us something and indeed she was. According to the specs, top speed for a Freedom 21 is about 6 knots, but since we've never had a working log before we hadn't a clue that we were pushing her too hard. Poor baby.

This 'n' that

The biology exam was as bad as I feared - three hours in a stuffy room and lots of horribly complicated scientific words to mispronounce. My lovely student kindly corrects me if I get it wrong - I sometimes wonder who's the one with dyslexia! She even anticipates spelling problems such as 'xylem' (my computer doesn't know that either - I'm worried!) by telling me about the 'x'. I hope she passes the exam, bless her.

I'm showing signs of wear and tear after all the gardening, alas. I hate growing older. This time it's 'weeder's wrist' - almost certainly from yanking out huge tufts of grass from the path. I looked up 'wrist pain' on the Interweb, but none of the descriptions matched mine. Maybe I've discovered a new condition, akin to tennis elbow (which can also cause wrist pain apparently). Bah!

I love Facebook. It tells me Paul is in Marrakesh for an academic conference and has even remembered to buy sun-block. I wonder if Facebook was invented with worrying mothers in mind. Now if I don't see any entries I'm going to think his lap-top's been stolen. Worry, fret, panic . . .

May

Hooray for a dry May and time to spend it in the garden! I've planted up most of the vegetables and done some tidying up in the front garden, edging the lawn and pulling out a few weeds. I've made a nice sitootery outside the conservatory, surrounding it with potted plants, and I've had fierce words with Mr T over why he shouldn't use that space to mend the car - broken plants, strange substances, aesthetic reasons, that sort of thing. What's so wrong with the garage area I say? My sitootery is for sitting with a cup of tea and a book!

It's just so much more pleasant than sitting in a stuffy cupboard somewhere in the school, scribbling away. Only two more exams to go - Higher biology is one of them, my nightmare exam to scribe because of all the scientific names. There should be a scribes' crib-sheet for that one.

Fidelio's ready to go into the water. We polished her hull this evening and she's looking good. The dogs came too but were disappointed there was no walk involved. They lay sulking in the car while we beavered away.

Mum's been gone fourteen years on Sunday. It's nice to think of her at bluebell time, but I still miss her.

Bloggers, Bluebells, Bridget and Bad Max

Kimberly, Queen of bloggers, came up with the idea of 'Bloggers and Bluebells'. It was a brave move, considering she's off to America in two days' time, to have a group of Piskie bloggers let loose around the rectory eating her brownies and drinking her tea, but it was great to connect faces with names and fill in some of the background. Bloggers come in all hues, shapes, sizes and ages but one thing we all seem able to do is talk - and didn't we just? The tea, coffee and conversation flowed steadily until it was bluebell time.

For the bluebells bit we went to Kilmun Arboretum. Not far, but far enough for one car-load to lose the way and find themselves at Loch Fyne Oysters. The Zebadee family finally made it to the car-park in time for lunch, just as Bad Max, on arriving at Puck's Glen, decided he'd had enough and turned tail for home. By the time he (with Rosemary and Kimberly in hot pursuit) arrived at the car-park, the Zebadees had hopped it for home too, back to the rectory. Never mind, Kimberly and Rosemary ate their lunch and plotted the sermon. Rosemary, I never knew St Catan existed but you brought him to life for us all. The midges, who were at the wrong gig - Midgebites and Candlelight doesn't happen till later, chaps - ate them. Good dog Bridget would like to point out here that she didn't think much of the Arboretum either - too many bangs. I didn't let on that it was probably our local stalker getting in the supplies of venison.

The rest of us climbed up the glen. Mrs Blethers led - check out her photos - and I rounded up the other photographers, Piglet and Stewart, who were snapping away obliviously, and otherwise might be there yet, and brought up the rear. We all met up again at the car-park, and finally joined the Zebadees at the rectory, whereupon Kimberly changed from blogger to celebrant and we had a fine eucharist in the church to finish.

Until next year then, dear bloggers?

A listening ear

Yesterday was the SEC's rather last-minute attempt prior to Lambeth to do some active 'listening' to the experiences of GLBT folk within a church context. Sixty attended - the maximum which had been allowed for - and my opinion is it was a Good Thing. As one of the six witnesses, I spoke to two groups about what it was like bringing up a gay son. I consulted with Michael and Charlie about what I was going to say and they were comfortable with it. I also made it clear that the account I gave was from my point of view as a mother, and that if Michael had been telling his own story it might be different.

I found it both a humbling and emotional experience. Emotional because much of what I had to say brought back difficult memories, especially as, given my time over again and the benefit of hindsight, I might have have handled things differently. Humbling because it was obvious from some of the responses I got that some people had not heard much in the way of positive affirmation of their sexuality in a church context. It brought home to me how very difficult it is to be Christian and openly LGBT, let alone be ordained and anything other than celibate.

The main point I wanted to get across was something I've said many times - that I'm proud of my boys, who they are and what they've achieved. It makes me sad when I hear of parents of gay children who are ashamed to acknowledge them for what they are. My advice to anyone who suspects that their child might be gay is to be accepting, be affirming and be happy with them when and if they find the person they want to spend their life with.

Compost

I love playing with compost and it's that time of year. I have four compost bins - two of the black plastic 'dalek' variety for kitchen waste and two bigger wooden ones at the far end of the garden for garden waste. Periodically I mix them up and layer them and add a bit of organic accelerator to them. I was doing that on Sunday. What fun.

Jess enjoyed it too - she likes to get her nose into the compost for a rummage around, but I didn't imagine the compost accelerator pellets would be a tasty snack for a small dog. Apparently they are. Now she's making her own compost.

I found another Cursillo blogger and fellow ex-Ninny - it's John Penman, aka Fr Dougal, now in Falkirk. He also seems to be a fellow bird-nerd.

Speaking of birds, I saw three goosanders on the river Echaig - two males chasing the same female who was acting very coy around both. I couldn't help feeling that she didn't really fancy either of them and had her eye on the one that flew off when Jonny leapt joyously into the river a little further upstream (the joy was due to the change in the calendar that dictates that dogs shall now enter all bodies of water at every opportunity. It usually coincides with the first application of the very expensive flea and tick control drops which warn against getting wet for three days after applying. Huh? Have they not heard of Argyll???).

The herons' eggs have hatched - or at least some of them have. I hope the chicks survived all that hail the other day.

All you need is love

That's me back from Cursillo #55 - a little the worse for wear in the body but renewed in spirit and with my Christian love levels well topped up! As usual I feel humbled by the trouble people will go to serving others and the cheerfulness with which they do it. As 'Observing Lay Rector' I didn't actually have much to do other than counting heads and generally getting in the way, which was just as well since the cold I took with me didn't improve and has settled nicely somewhere about mid-lung! But running on paracetamol, cough mixture and adrenaline, I was able to help make a difference in some people's Christian journey and that is just such an amazing privilege. The other amazing privilege was being allowed to administer the Chalice at the closing Eucharist.

Cursillo is such a gift to the church, I wish it was more widely used. The Holy Spirit fairly whistled round settling on everyone there - an eclectic mix of sundry Christians of widely different experience - from a young Malaysian just converted to Christianity to a learned and eminent canon of a cathedral. It's a wonderful way to experience a Christian community in action and makes you determined to bring some of that experience to your own church community. If people once felt the love they would never forget it. Surely that's what Jesus has been saying to us these past two thousand years or so! In the words of St John (or is St Paul?) - all you need is love!