Tag Archives: holiday

August 23: K is for Kyle of Lochalsh

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From a junction, yesterday, to the end of the line today! Kyle of Lochalsh station is out of sight to the right of the photograph.

I’m not necessarily in favour of fixed links where ferries used to ply, but they do make life easier. We have the Channel Tunnel between Kent and Calais while Skye has the Skye Bridge linking it to the Scottish mainland. Its echoing of the rainbow when we were there helped reconcile myself to it, as did the fact that the tolls were abolished some years ago. Our plan to walk across from Kyleakin on Skye to Kyle of Lochalsh on the mainland were washed out. The rain was fierce, but there was a bus we were not too proud to catch.

The Isle of Skye’s website says that Kyleakin used to be choked with cars, lined up for the ferry; it’s quieter now but still the hotels do good business.

We were amazed by the quantities of baggage carried by the French coach tourists who shared our hotel, and the mistrustful refusal to accept assistance in getting the cases through the automatic lift door. What a burden for the mind! It is good to travel light whether to Skye or beyond the sky.

And I hope I won’t always need a rainbow to remind me of how beautiful the world is. Even those bits of it engineered and built by mere humans can reflect the beauty of God’s creation.

MMB.

 

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28 June: Shared Table X: Food Banks

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More than a million 3 day emergency food parcels were given out by British food banks in 2015-2016. Read more about it here: what food banks do . This does not include parcels given directly by the Saint Vincent de Paul Society and other organisations.

I know people who have greatly benefited from this service. One mother often seems to have more teabags than she needs, but this means that she is able to share her surplus with others. That feels good!

Another interesting story was in The Observer on 4th December last. A Dublin organisation was able to establish deliveries of fresh food that a supermarket would have dumped to a women’s refuge. This abundance brought the women out of themselves and they began to share: to share food, to share a kitchen (I find that a real challenge!), to share recipes, to be good to each other.

Please pop a few cans into the collection baskets at your supermarket or church and help your local food bank keep going. Summertime, and the living will not be so easy when the children do not get their free school meals!

 

WT.

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19 September: Intergalactic Discoveries: VII – Go West Young Dog!

The first thing that happened was that Mrs Fox, another of T’s human friends, arrived in her car to take the boys to Cornwall. T thanked Mrs Fox, and silently arranged a telepathic conference with the dogs on August 10, when astronomers would be looking for meteorites and willing to attribute any unusual signals to the asteroid belt.

Ajax and Alfie were anxious at leaving their familiar town, and even more so when Mrs Fox stopped at a motorway service station. Was this their destination? A monument to human craziness: cars, cars, cars, a smell of exhaust, warm metal and hamburger, a far cry from the scientific food in the safe, encapsulated world of Ossyria.

T had sent a big bag of earth’s version of scientific food – ‘A Complete Diet for Your Small Dog – Who could ask for anything more?’ After all those fish and chip suppers on the beach, the boys could! Their new carer put down a bowlful each and plenty of water, while she sat on the grass and passed them morsels of her Cornish Pastie. ‘If her name is Fox, does she understand dogs, do you think?’ asked Alfie.

There was great relief when they were led back to the car, and off to the West. That evening they drew up at a cottage on top of a hill, with the sea at the bottom of it. There was no need to expend energy on telepathy to persuade Mrs Fox to go down there. ‘Maybe we can just sit back and enjoy the next few weeks and forget about observation duties.’ said Ajax. But it was not quite so simple. ‘You can’t be a part-time Ossyrian,’ said Alfie. ‘Just watch Mrs Fox for a start.’

Ajax shuddered. Mrs Fox was very organised, a character trait much in evidence in Ossyria, and not always endearing. ‘Look at you! Your nails need clipping, and I do believe you’ve picked up some little visitors. It’s the vet’s for you tomorrow morning.’

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July 17: Interruption, Saint John Cassian

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Sister Joanna has shared these reflections on Saint John Cassian, whose thought continues to influence the Church to this day. A good read for the start of the summer holidays here in England. It’s also a good time to listen to him because his feast falls at the end of this week, July 23rd.

WT

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Sunday 29th May: Corpus Christi

Paul tells us that the Body of Christ is made up of many parts, and indeed, the members of the body which seem to be weaker are necessary. (1Corinthians 12.22). Let’s not get above ourselves, most of us are more like fingernails than brains or biceps. But we are needed from time to time.

Fingernails can be cracked, broken, ingrained with oil and dirt from hard work. Nurses, though, and chefs need spotless nails; my brother who is a chef will not consider offering a job to anyone, however charming, who comes for interview with dirty nails.

Other nails are pampered, decorated, miniature works of art. They seem to suggest that their hands never get dirty. Of course, some of these nails are in holiday mode, boosting the confidence of the rest of the body for the challenges of a night out, or maybe telling the rest of the body to slow down for a few days: my daughter’s Christmas nails were not practical when teaching 4-year-olds, but fun for a fortnight!

We may be no more than fingernails in the Body of Christ, but we need to take care of ourselves, scrub those nails so the rest of the body is not made ill when we feed it, maybe dress to impress occasionally, but above all, be ready to get dirty in honest hard work for others.

MMB

Pictures: Altar and Tabernacle at FISC, by CD – the Body of Christ in form of bread; Dairy at Petworth by MMB – clean fingernails would certainly have been expected.

 

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March 11 Love in the Spirit of Silence

 

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Today I remember my grandfather Alexander Victor, whose 115th birthday it would have been. Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace.

Had he lived to see it, Pop would initially have been profoundly discombobulated at the thought of my becoming Catholic, since he regarded Catholicism as equivalent to treason. But since he always wanted what was best for me, he would have wrapped his head around it and in the process undergone a change of mind.

Together with his wife, he brought me up. His eyes were brilliant blue, bluer than any others I’ve ever seen. While he had fond memories of childhood holidays in Shanklin on the Isle of Wight, his favourite place was Dartmoor, where he used to go for long walks. We loved each other deeply. He was deaf, and because in those days hearing aids weren’t that good, plus he didn’t like wearing one, we didn’t speak much, and never more than a few words. But our rapport meant that the impossibility of verbal converse promoted a deeper form of communication, one whose roots in silence were as deep as the blue of his eyes and whose tokens were the countless glances of solicitude we exchanged during the course of a day and the kiss he gave me every night before he went to bed while I lay pretending to be asleep.

MLT.

 

 

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Interruption – Me Time!

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Llanddwyn, Ynys Mon, MMB

When Doug proposed writing about Marriage, I had just put down an article about ‘me time’ in one of the newspapers. No doubt it was urging the reader to make a new year’s resolution to be nice to him- or her- self, and spend money on the products advertised around the article.

I set Doug the task to write about ‘Me Time’ for the blog. I don’t see him selling many spa weekends for one, somehow, but any holiday can become a holy day; you can make a pilgrimage of a walk at the beach or the local countryside… or even a lifetime.

MMB

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by | February 20, 2016 · 00:35