Green Patches

Pop!

" ‘Whizz pop whizz pop pop pop poppety pop pop,’ faster and ever so much faster flew the pancakes. Thicker and thicker. Bigger and bigger. They came out flatways and edgeways. They shot high in the air and stuck to the ceiling. One sailed across the room and hit the Vicar in the waistcoat, where it may or may not have reminded him of the ironholders for the South Crashbania natives. Pop poppety, pop pop pop. It was like a machine gun but much more sploshy. The Professor struggled out of his pancake just in time for another one to drop over him. Two pancakes were on the clock, four were draped over the light. The Mayor was eating his way through a complete set of pancakes of varying sizes that had fallen in front of him. The four firemen put their helmets on and brandished their axes, but only succeeded in smashing two cups, one saucer and the sugar basin. Mrs Flittersnoop put her head gingerly out from under the table and was immediately gummed to the carpet by a three-foot pancake two inches thick that had just shot out.”
From The Incredible Adventures of Professor Branestawm by Norman Hunter

 

 My favourite pancake-making scenario: A recycled recycled recycled blog for Shrove Tuesday.

 

Christus Mansionem Benedicat - Return of Wiseman 3

Yes, Wiseman 3 has returned!  It turns out he never went AWOL in the first place. Mr GP found him the other day - in the Nativity scene, sheltering behind a gigantic magpie (made from a kit given to me for Christmas by Ms GP). So much for my policy of inclusivity (and the state of my eyesight). The little chap has been reunited with his friends on the windowsill amidst much general rejoicing and merrymaking. I broke open a late Christmas pressie of toffees to celebrate  and in an absent-minded moment bit down on one way too hard and broke a filling. I'm now trying hard not to wonder whether the cost of a new one works out any dearer than the original cost of the Wiseman...

Advent - Waiting and hoping

Given my grumblings yesterday, the arrival, not long afterwards, in my feedreader of this Advent sermon by Maggi Dawn was pretty apposite.  God is to be found in the darkness as well as in the light - and :

If we confidently depend upon the knowledge that God's gifts, unlike Santa's, are not delivered to deadlines, then we can live within the seasons knowing that the gifts they represent will come to us eventually - not necessarily on time, and probably when we least expect them.

 - for the rest of the reflection, go here. 

Thanks for the reminder. It speaks very much into where I've been and from time to time  continue to be on my own journey. 

The artwork above comes from my recent retreat at St Beunos, from a grey, grey period halfway through the week when I was struggling with this  sense of 'spiritual  discombobulation.' 

[p.s And for once, the Linkwithin widget's choice of post is entirely appropriate!]

I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday...

Now, I"ve not caved in under the pressure of the pre-Christmas razmatazz.  It's simply that I just had one of those pround 'thunks,' (as one does) as I came out from under a heavy duty card writing session just now with burgeoning RSI and that ambivalent sense of weariness and (mild) guilt: (Why can't I be better organised and write them sufficiently early enough that I've time to give some proper news instead of the falsely cheery "Must write/email in the New Year?!"). 

Much as I love the dulcet tones of Wizzard (Hey, I"m a teenager of the Seventies, after all), the thought of it being Christmas Everyday is, to be frank, my idea of hell. However, in an odd way, the Hairy One has a point, (albeit maybe not exactly the point he'd intended to make). If we were to try and live each day as if it were Christmas, that is, with our focus away from all the tinsel, turkey and stuffing and focussed outwards on true peace and love of neighbour, we'd not be forced into cranking it all up artificially - and cramming it into the space of a month or less.

Paws for Thought

Let's  put it another way - we had no idea what  this 'entailed'.

or

"We will now 'paws' for the blessing." 

 Well, we all have to be silly once in our lives and last Sunday afternoon was just that.  I may  be a 'bona fido' Franciscan tertiary -  but until now I simply couldn't pluck up the courage to drag the resident Greenpatch pooch up the hill for the annual pet blessing service. He's not exactly the best-behaved canine on the block - and my over- fertile imagination kept conjuring up nightmare scenarios of him chasing hamsters, traumatising cats, leaving 'little parcels' on the floor and flattening the vicar.  Resulting in our ignominious banning from the church - or even all the C Of E churches in town. I wonder if they operate a  similar'Churchwatch' system to the local pubs: "Out of one, out of all?!" 

So, why did I decide to finally plumb depths of Anglican liturgy best left unplumbed IMHO? Strength in numbers, I guess. I persuaded a friend to come along with her hairy horror. Double trouble!  

Did we enjoy it? Yes...in a funny kind of way. Our worries about assorted cats, mice and other furries were groundless. This was strictly a dog gig.  To be more accurate - about 20 dogs, of all shapes and sizes. And it went pretty well, considering. No pandemonium incarnate, no puddles... No bloodshed. True at times I was taken back years to when the children were small; sitting there trying to mouth 'For the Beauty of The Earth' and 'Morning has broken'  whilst keeping an inquisitive, wriggly Fido with the attention span of a gnat  from misbehaving, fidgeting, and generally 'showing us up' was a salutary reminder of what life used to be like every time I went to church. At the point when we were asked to hold and pray for our pets, I was bent down busily  trying to remove congealed bits of half-eaten doggie treats from under the pew and untangle the lead from round us both. 

And surprise, surprise. When the time came to take our furry friends up for a blessing, they all behaved pretty well. OK, so GP Dog doesn't exactly smell of ashes of roses - could do with a haircut and was a right fidget, but a doggie treat suspended just in his line of vision worked wonders!

I'm glad we went.  And I'm sure our canine companions enjoyed themselves. Best of all - GP Dog was so worn out from all the walking up and down the hill that he slept like a lamb once we got home.  I think Francis would have approved.

 

 

Useful and Acceptable Gifts

I was puffing my way up the hill to church last Sunday; at the last minute as usual, but I just had to stop and pick up these conkers.  I dithered for a nanosecond (I mean, a fifty-something year-old woman getting all excited over something like this - honestly!), but my inner five year-old won in the end, you'll be glad to hear.  The same inner five-year old that I remember popping out during my first retreat seven years ago now, as I wandered round the wild garden at CSF Compton Durville.   It was like exploring a jungle! I was  so thrilled! By the time I went home I must have gathered half of the Somerset countryside on my windowsill - plus any number of creepy-crawlies besides.

To return to last week,  off I hopped to church where I arranged my treasure carefully on the pew in front of me, and, I regret to say, didn't really take in very much of the service at all that morning. Never mind, for once I've managed to get ahead of myself, what with Harvest Festival coming up and all. I came out of the sacristy this afternoon to see one of the flower ladies busy decorating the place with a lovely collection of leaves, conkers and other autumal goodies. Somebody is going to find it rather difficult to concentrate this Sunday as well, and we're not just talking about the children. My inner Busy Fauve is dying to go for a run. As I'd suspect too,  the insect life that might have come into church with the decorations. Who knows? If they hang around for long enough, they'll be able to take part in the pet blessing service the following weekend!

 The beech husks in the photo are another 'treasure' unearthed by my resident Fauve and I on our walks which make me smile.  Do any bloggers remember the classic Joyce Grenfell monologue Useful And Acceptable Gifts where she plays a (Very Buckinghamshire) countrywoman giving a lecture to a Women's Institute on how to make a 'boutoniere' out of beech husks?  Wonderful. Any road, I'm not able to pass a beech tree at this time of year now without giggling quietly to myself. 

So, I'll be up there this Sunday, ploughing the fields and scattering away. And I'll be thinking about boutonieres, earwigs and the gifts of laughter and wonder.

 

 

 

Forever Autumn - Blog of The Week

 

Pom- pom- pom, pompom, pompompompom pom-pom-pooommm...

Never repeat yourself, did I say? Oh dear.  Oops, rules are made to be broken and all that... Guaranteed to make  even the most po-faced personage  smile (I'd love to see what they'd make of Franciscan liturgy),  thought-provoking  and possessed of  an unerring timing that helps me put all my angst-provoking spiritual lingerie-entangling into perspective.  Yes, Blog of The Week goes yet again to those cyber-coenobites and liturgical virtuosos  - The Beaker Folk of Husborne Crawley. 

 

This Living Mirror - St Clare's Day

“Place your mind before the mirror of eternity! Place your soul in the brilliance of glory! And transform your entire being into the image of the Godhead Itself through contemplation."

 - St Clare of Assisi 

 

 

My Top Four July Posts (2): Graduation

This time two years ago we were busy smuggling a  bottle of pink champagne into Central Hall Westminster as Ms GP -  (her of the green paint) -   graduated.

A couple of days ago her brother phoned us with great news - Yes, we  have an English graduate,  possibly soon to be a postgraduate student, in the family. Congratulations, Mstr GP! We'll soon be raking out our best bib and tucker - or in my case, Posh Frock. Though this time, it won't be ncessary to smuggle in the champagne.

 

The Nativity - all welcome

 

Especially in the Greenpatch creche, as readers of this blog will know of old. and this year is no exception.  Look carefully to see if you can spot any new additions! For more info on the little critters, do feel free to hop over to my other blog; the Greenpatch offspring reached new heights of creativity this Christmas!  Not only did they find a use for odd socks, but Ms GP hit on an ingenious way of recycling  the insulating wool that had come with our Christmas Abel and Cole fruit 'n veg box.