A couple of radio thoughts in the pipeline for august...
BARBEQUE SUMMER
Now last time I checked, we were supposed to be in for a barbeque summer. I had the flowery shorts, the sausages ready, everything. So what happened? Looks like it got rained off. Can you rely on anything these days? Well hang on, I just read something about a steadfast love that lasts forever. Wasn’t talking about the missus. Or the dog. Or my relationship with Facebook. It was about the love of God. Solid. Strong. Reliable. Like my new barbeque set. I think. I haven’t had a chance to try it out yet.
music bed: always take the weather with you- crowded house
CONNECTED
While we’re all a bit strapped for cash, we’re happy to do without some things, like nights out, and the trip to Barbados. But we don’t want to miss out on stuff that helps us stay in touch, like the mobile phone and black berry. We like to be connected. Some people are looking for a spiritual connection as well. Exciting to think the feeling could be mutual – that God might just be looking for us. King of the universe, just a prayer away. 24/7, waiting to hear from you, and from me. For free. (pause). You won’t get that from your average network provider.
music bed: valerie- steve winwood, or connected- stereo mc's
Monday, 10 August 2009
Wednesday, 22 July 2009
cruel nature, percolating spirit
Watched south pacific on bbc4 last night. some brutal instances of nature red in tooth and claw: man o' war birds with hooked bills plucking isolated tern chicks from cliff edge, then waving and snapping them in mid-air, helpless rag dolls. tiger sharks ambushing ungainly albatross chicks from below; nightmare from the deep, a ton or so of raw sinuous power thrusting torpedo-like to the surface and seizing the frail bird in its vice jaws, engulfing the doomed creature that flounders like a broken kite. but then the other, glorious side of nature, a super-pod of dolphins frolicking in the surf against backdrop of lord of the rings new zealand peaks, looping and jumping with the joy of being alive.
been pondering the stumbling block that can be posed by considering the bible to be the 'word of God' in a neat, boxed-in way. so conceived, it is all too easily blown aside for many by the stormy complexity of life, like a house of cards. it's only as i enter it with the expectant questing spirit of a child exploring a broad enchanted country, that i can submit to its wisdom, allow my spirit to percolate and revive in its truth, and then go out to be an agent of change in the world, broken bread and poured out wine. it's something to aim for anyway.
been pondering the stumbling block that can be posed by considering the bible to be the 'word of God' in a neat, boxed-in way. so conceived, it is all too easily blown aside for many by the stormy complexity of life, like a house of cards. it's only as i enter it with the expectant questing spirit of a child exploring a broad enchanted country, that i can submit to its wisdom, allow my spirit to percolate and revive in its truth, and then go out to be an agent of change in the world, broken bread and poured out wine. it's something to aim for anyway.
Saturday, 27 June 2009
High days in Haworth
Last Sunday afternoon, solstice, visited the Bronte mecca of Haworth. Bizarrely, a sixties weekend was in full swing; the home of the world's most famous literary family, was taken over by Bee Gees impressions, pink flares and bad Elvis wigs. Brilliant.
Hiked up to Top Withens, remote farmhouse ruin and supposed inspiration for gothic masterpiece Wuthering Heights. The stone plaque, placed there by the Bronte society in 1964, assures 'in reponse to many enquiries' that the farmhouse could only have been an incidental inspiration, as even when intact it bore no resemblance to WH. ('wuthering' apparently describes the kind of turbulent weather found on the yorkshire moors. Fortunately when I went, it was sunny).
On the way up I passed two friendly young women out to get trim. And then I passed them on the way down. Took a detour, and passed them again. And again. At one point I even back-tracked, thinking I hadn't come the best way, so passed them in reverse before revising my decision and overtaking them again. Frankly, it all got a bit silly. But we laughed about it.
Back in Haworth, stopped at the Old Hall Inn for a slap-up bangers and mash. As the outdoor table I sat down at was on a bit of a slope, the gravy flowed inexorably to one end of the plate and had to be marshalled with some dexterity.
On a (recently rare) spiritual note, I'm reading through Oswald Chambers 'My Utmost for his highest'. Let's be honest, for both atheists and Christians/people with a faith - we have some common ground here - God's reality and presence is far from 'obvious' all the time. It's quite possible to get through a day giving Jesus or the divine barely a thought. But OC constantly challenges me with the message that the spiritual is real. And that by 'doing the duty that lies nearest', taking a step with the little light you have and thus living in dynamic relationship with God, life can become a scene of constant unexpected delight, wonder and surprise. Rock and roll.
Hiked up to Top Withens, remote farmhouse ruin and supposed inspiration for gothic masterpiece Wuthering Heights. The stone plaque, placed there by the Bronte society in 1964, assures 'in reponse to many enquiries' that the farmhouse could only have been an incidental inspiration, as even when intact it bore no resemblance to WH. ('wuthering' apparently describes the kind of turbulent weather found on the yorkshire moors. Fortunately when I went, it was sunny).
On the way up I passed two friendly young women out to get trim. And then I passed them on the way down. Took a detour, and passed them again. And again. At one point I even back-tracked, thinking I hadn't come the best way, so passed them in reverse before revising my decision and overtaking them again. Frankly, it all got a bit silly. But we laughed about it.
Back in Haworth, stopped at the Old Hall Inn for a slap-up bangers and mash. As the outdoor table I sat down at was on a bit of a slope, the gravy flowed inexorably to one end of the plate and had to be marshalled with some dexterity.
On a (recently rare) spiritual note, I'm reading through Oswald Chambers 'My Utmost for his highest'. Let's be honest, for both atheists and Christians/people with a faith - we have some common ground here - God's reality and presence is far from 'obvious' all the time. It's quite possible to get through a day giving Jesus or the divine barely a thought. But OC constantly challenges me with the message that the spiritual is real. And that by 'doing the duty that lies nearest', taking a step with the little light you have and thus living in dynamic relationship with God, life can become a scene of constant unexpected delight, wonder and surprise. Rock and roll.
Wednesday, 24 June 2009
Wimbledon church
Radio script (with tennis and crowd sound effects). Go to www.audiopot.org to listen to a sample...
Commentator:
And welcome to church. Break point. Ethel to serve. First act of service. Oh and it’s big, WARM hug at the door, picked up well by Stacy, returns nicely. Arfur, drop shot compliment, nice touch, placed beautifully, back hander but that’s ok, well received. Excellent conversation over there, deep, wide. Ooh and that’s a savage attack on Nigel but he blocks well, gentle reply, all smoothed over. Stacy almost slips through the net but picked up, great recovery. Oh and look at Ethel, great speed across the court, full stretch, going the extra mile. And a parting shot from Nigel, ‘I forgive you’, struck sweetly, absolute winner, Arfur left rooted to the spot, quite speechless.
Umpire: Advantage church
Commentator: Well that was a joy to watch, absolutely glorious. This game certainly isn’t over yet.
Commentator:
And welcome to church. Break point. Ethel to serve. First act of service. Oh and it’s big, WARM hug at the door, picked up well by Stacy, returns nicely. Arfur, drop shot compliment, nice touch, placed beautifully, back hander but that’s ok, well received. Excellent conversation over there, deep, wide. Ooh and that’s a savage attack on Nigel but he blocks well, gentle reply, all smoothed over. Stacy almost slips through the net but picked up, great recovery. Oh and look at Ethel, great speed across the court, full stretch, going the extra mile. And a parting shot from Nigel, ‘I forgive you’, struck sweetly, absolute winner, Arfur left rooted to the spot, quite speechless.
Umpire: Advantage church
Commentator: Well that was a joy to watch, absolutely glorious. This game certainly isn’t over yet.
Saturday, 20 June 2009
Mela
Much of last weekend was spent in the capacious Peel Park, soaking up the atmosphere and contributing to a good cause at the world famous (well, sounds as if it should be) Bradford Mela, 21 this year. I joined a group of young christians, some with mild hippy leanings, who go to a groovy-sounding church called 'soulspace'. They were representing a campaigning and networking charity called 'Speak'. The event title: 'Little Big Dress' - a spin-off of a fair trade campaign years ago called Big Dress, which involved the production of thousands of tiles of fabric stitched together into a giant lady's garment. They'd assembled a Mongolian style yurt (large round tent structure presumably designed to withstand the ferocious conditions of the mongolian steppe) and covered it with this colorful patchwork quilt. Now why didn't I take a picture of that?
All of which served to remind me - except the dress - of a heady trip 11 years ago across vast expanses of nothingness on board the Trans-Mongolian Express. With a travel agency which charged the earth called, suitably enough, 'Monkey Business'. Sharing a cabin with two English lads who'd been teaching English in Hiroshima and were now heading to the Paris World Cup. Of a large male American passenger who, upon realising somewhere several hundred miles from anywhere that the train was running a day late due to striking Russian workers, declared that he was being 'held against his will' and insisted on leaving the train and being escorted to the nearest airport. I wonder whatever happened to him.
But I digress. Amongst the attractions of the Speak venue was a drumming workshop, where an enthusiastic African in trad dress sat in a circle of bongo drums and diligently tried to instil a sense of rhythm into an optimistic cross section of the general public. Also a very popular face painting corner which drew kids and their parents like bees to a honey pot. And a short drama about fair trade, in which I played the personification of an evil multinational corporation bent on squeezing as much out of poor exploited developing world workers as I possibly could. And cackling diabolically at appropriate moments. What can I say. Typecast as usual.
All of which served to remind me - except the dress - of a heady trip 11 years ago across vast expanses of nothingness on board the Trans-Mongolian Express. With a travel agency which charged the earth called, suitably enough, 'Monkey Business'. Sharing a cabin with two English lads who'd been teaching English in Hiroshima and were now heading to the Paris World Cup. Of a large male American passenger who, upon realising somewhere several hundred miles from anywhere that the train was running a day late due to striking Russian workers, declared that he was being 'held against his will' and insisted on leaving the train and being escorted to the nearest airport. I wonder whatever happened to him.
But I digress. Amongst the attractions of the Speak venue was a drumming workshop, where an enthusiastic African in trad dress sat in a circle of bongo drums and diligently tried to instil a sense of rhythm into an optimistic cross section of the general public. Also a very popular face painting corner which drew kids and their parents like bees to a honey pot. And a short drama about fair trade, in which I played the personification of an evil multinational corporation bent on squeezing as much out of poor exploited developing world workers as I possibly could. And cackling diabolically at appropriate moments. What can I say. Typecast as usual.
Thursday, 11 June 2009
Vulture networking
Weekend before last, when high pressure was melting the country, did a couple of nice walks. One with a group taking in Kirkburton village, Castle Hill and Emley Moor TV tower near 'uddersfield', tallest free standing structure in the UK. Fine aerial view of a cricket match from the hill as well.
And then Sunday afternoon, a solo tramp across Ilkley Moor, which sports what's called Yorkshire's unofficial anthem, Ilkley Moor bar 'tat (i know i've spelt that wrong..) Well, I went with a hat - a very fetching sun one. The moor ends abruptly at a road and Dick Hudson's pub, where I stopped for a shandy. A shimmering of black manes in distant field as a posse of horses cantered off.
Mon to Weds just gone, churches' media conference in Swanick, Derbyshire, examining the impact of the media, and potentially of people of faith within it. Some pretty high-powered not to say esoteric discussion. And an array of high-powered media types to boot. One of the trickiest christian events I've been at to just go up and talk to people over coffee. At one point I sat down and said hello to someone who also seemed to feel a bit outside the goldfish bowl. She turned out to be one of the fringe event speakers and a 'Dr' no less from the Faraday institute of science and religion in Cambridge. She introduced me to the term 'vulture networking' which, as it suggests, means to circle round particular individuals with a view to getting what you can out of the encounter. Apparently the key is to network in a spirit of generosity, trust and respect, and so be a 'star networker'! Rock on.
And then Sunday afternoon, a solo tramp across Ilkley Moor, which sports what's called Yorkshire's unofficial anthem, Ilkley Moor bar 'tat (i know i've spelt that wrong..) Well, I went with a hat - a very fetching sun one. The moor ends abruptly at a road and Dick Hudson's pub, where I stopped for a shandy. A shimmering of black manes in distant field as a posse of horses cantered off.
Mon to Weds just gone, churches' media conference in Swanick, Derbyshire, examining the impact of the media, and potentially of people of faith within it. Some pretty high-powered not to say esoteric discussion. And an array of high-powered media types to boot. One of the trickiest christian events I've been at to just go up and talk to people over coffee. At one point I sat down and said hello to someone who also seemed to feel a bit outside the goldfish bowl. She turned out to be one of the fringe event speakers and a 'Dr' no less from the Faraday institute of science and religion in Cambridge. She introduced me to the term 'vulture networking' which, as it suggests, means to circle round particular individuals with a view to getting what you can out of the encounter. Apparently the key is to network in a spirit of generosity, trust and respect, and so be a 'star networker'! Rock on.
Friday, 29 May 2009
Bala weekend
Seem to have been struggling to fit the old blog in of late. So just a few lines today, catching up on one or two recent activities. A couple of weeks ago was at Lake Bala in North Wales for a weekend. Beautiful spot, mixed weather. Took part with a group in a high wires course, run by some rugged outdoor types in a company called 'Get Wet'. Discovered I'm perhaps not quite as terrified of heights as I'd though, skipping from rung to rung like a monkey (and probably looking like one). The whole escapade ended with a rope slide.
Then there was a cycle round the lake, past a picturesque Welsh railway station. And that evening, after some worship, watching Jade do her thing and get poked in the face by the violinist, and a drink or two, a few of us found ourselves in an welsh pub under the quaint delusion that a shot or two of the local brew somehow qualified us to be rock stars. I belted out Daydream Believer followed up by I'm still standing (happily I was), rounding off with Englishman in New York, which the karaoke master insisted I adjust to Englishman in Wales. One or two of us also tried to help some more intoxicated punters make it through a couple of fast moving and by no means straightforward Queen songs, namely Don't stop me now and Killer Queen. They really needed help.
Then there was a cycle round the lake, past a picturesque Welsh railway station. And that evening, after some worship, watching Jade do her thing and get poked in the face by the violinist, and a drink or two, a few of us found ourselves in an welsh pub under the quaint delusion that a shot or two of the local brew somehow qualified us to be rock stars. I belted out Daydream Believer followed up by I'm still standing (happily I was), rounding off with Englishman in New York, which the karaoke master insisted I adjust to Englishman in Wales. One or two of us also tried to help some more intoxicated punters make it through a couple of fast moving and by no means straightforward Queen songs, namely Don't stop me now and Killer Queen. They really needed help.
Thursday, 21 May 2009
Voices
Another radio piece based on Britain's got talent, which will have Britney Spears Toxic running underneath it...
So, another year, and another run of Britain’s favourite talent contest is drawing to a close. Well that’s a relief; I’m not sure how many more singing dogs and dancing hamsters I can take. Of course, it’s had its moments. A certain feisty Scottish lady’s showed us you don’t have to look like Leona Lewis to carry a tune. And, no surprises, we’ve had a string of new show-stopper put downs from Britain’s favourite talent scout. So what can we take away from it all, besides the memory of a bloke farting his way through a Strauss waltz? Well, I’ve been thinking about those poor deluded souls who wind up on stage doing something they can’t do very well – and getting panned for it. About the words of the judges they listen to. Crikey, if I had to put up with the barbed comments of big Mr C, I think I’d be cowering in a corner. So it’s a good job there’s one voice out there that’s got something a bit more positive to say about me - and about YOU. God says you’re the apple of his eye, and that you’re written on the palm of his hand. Not bad eh? Hmm. Maybe I should think about entering that talent show next year after all…
So, another year, and another run of Britain’s favourite talent contest is drawing to a close. Well that’s a relief; I’m not sure how many more singing dogs and dancing hamsters I can take. Of course, it’s had its moments. A certain feisty Scottish lady’s showed us you don’t have to look like Leona Lewis to carry a tune. And, no surprises, we’ve had a string of new show-stopper put downs from Britain’s favourite talent scout. So what can we take away from it all, besides the memory of a bloke farting his way through a Strauss waltz? Well, I’ve been thinking about those poor deluded souls who wind up on stage doing something they can’t do very well – and getting panned for it. About the words of the judges they listen to. Crikey, if I had to put up with the barbed comments of big Mr C, I think I’d be cowering in a corner. So it’s a good job there’s one voice out there that’s got something a bit more positive to say about me - and about YOU. God says you’re the apple of his eye, and that you’re written on the palm of his hand. Not bad eh? Hmm. Maybe I should think about entering that talent show next year after all…
Thursday, 7 May 2009
Everyone's got talent
Radio script idea based on 'Britain's got talent'.
Simon Cowell:
Hello sweetheart, and what do you do?
Contestant A: I remember people’s birthdays.
SC: Ok, and how long have you been doing this for?
A: Since I was about twelve.
SC: Right, and is it just family birthdays, friends?
A: Everyone’s really, neighbours, pets, lolly pop lady.
SC: Well, it’s certainly unusual. So how did it all start?
A: I gave a birthday card to my teacher once, she was chuffed to bits. That was it, I was hooked.
SC: And do you have any special methods?
A: Not really. Just the colour coded diary. And a fluffy pom pom page marker.
SC: You're certainly taking this seriously. Ok, you’ve got two minutes to remember as many birthdays as you can. Bonus points if you remember mine.
Tag line: In God’s eyes, everyone’s got talent. What’s yours?
SC: (under breath) Just don’t remember the year.
Simon Cowell:
Hello sweetheart, and what do you do?
Contestant A: I remember people’s birthdays.
SC: Ok, and how long have you been doing this for?
A: Since I was about twelve.
SC: Right, and is it just family birthdays, friends?
A: Everyone’s really, neighbours, pets, lolly pop lady.
SC: Well, it’s certainly unusual. So how did it all start?
A: I gave a birthday card to my teacher once, she was chuffed to bits. That was it, I was hooked.
SC: And do you have any special methods?
A: Not really. Just the colour coded diary. And a fluffy pom pom page marker.
SC: You're certainly taking this seriously. Ok, you’ve got two minutes to remember as many birthdays as you can. Bonus points if you remember mine.
Tag line: In God’s eyes, everyone’s got talent. What’s yours?
SC: (under breath) Just don’t remember the year.
Monday, 20 April 2009
Ruby milestone, Mission net
Ensconced in the summer house, at home In Scotland on a fine April morning.. Brother’s family also up for the week from sunny Lymington. Iona, now four, has recruited me to bedtime story duty; and first time to see young Rose at six months. So a family affair.
The pretext: parents’ ruby (40th) wedding anniversary yesterday. A certain Kaiser Chiefs song has been running through my head. Also struck by the variety of high class cards designed specifically for this occasion, and that somehow all the senders had managed to select a different one. Well done everybody.
Mission Net, Germany: the once every three years or so European youth missions conference, held this time in Oldenburg, Lower Saxony. I was recruited from the HCJB UK office, along with one of our missionaries in Ecuador, to join German brothers Marco and Stefan to staff an exhibition stand for HCJB, in an exhibition jungle. HCJB’s slick new banner design features a yellow sofa with big black arrow pointing up from it, to the slogan ‘Be the voice and hands of Jesus’. A fellow exhibitor’s first impression was of an Ikea advert; not quite the clarion call to save the perishing we were after then. Back to the drawing board? Or maybe just a bit of tweaking.
Marco and Stefan, a priceless double act, relentlessly cheerful, both tech wizards, great fun.
A closer reflection of the spiritual impact of this event will have to wait, for now it’s just broad impressions: world mission dynamo George Verwer with his ‘world atlas jacket’ and giant inflatable globe. Spanish mime supremo Carlos Martinez, speaking an international language. Brilliant translators. Crowds. Worship. Buzz. Sourkraut. (actually, not that one). More to follow…
The pretext: parents’ ruby (40th) wedding anniversary yesterday. A certain Kaiser Chiefs song has been running through my head. Also struck by the variety of high class cards designed specifically for this occasion, and that somehow all the senders had managed to select a different one. Well done everybody.
Mission Net, Germany: the once every three years or so European youth missions conference, held this time in Oldenburg, Lower Saxony. I was recruited from the HCJB UK office, along with one of our missionaries in Ecuador, to join German brothers Marco and Stefan to staff an exhibition stand for HCJB, in an exhibition jungle. HCJB’s slick new banner design features a yellow sofa with big black arrow pointing up from it, to the slogan ‘Be the voice and hands of Jesus’. A fellow exhibitor’s first impression was of an Ikea advert; not quite the clarion call to save the perishing we were after then. Back to the drawing board? Or maybe just a bit of tweaking.
Marco and Stefan, a priceless double act, relentlessly cheerful, both tech wizards, great fun.
A closer reflection of the spiritual impact of this event will have to wait, for now it’s just broad impressions: world mission dynamo George Verwer with his ‘world atlas jacket’ and giant inflatable globe. Spanish mime supremo Carlos Martinez, speaking an international language. Brilliant translators. Crowds. Worship. Buzz. Sourkraut. (actually, not that one). More to follow…
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