INTO THE STRANGE LAND

Pigeons

Last time, I reported the escalation in the pigeon war, but not the detail. My notice asking people not to feed the pigeons had been annotated, "Would you feel the same if this said, 'Please do not feed the homeless'?" and "One love", "Please feed everyone". Perhaps the author was not aware that we do feed the homeless? Or perhaps he was, and genuinely feels that there is no moral difference between pigeons and people? Certainly, it would be disgusting if language about vermin were applied to human beings, the homeless for instance, because all human beings are of intrinsic moral worth, but it is simply nonsense to pretend that there is a moral equivalence between pigeons and people. One love? What does that mean? I know it was a song, years ago (Bob Marley?) but what's it supposed to mean in this context? There was also a long disquisition on a laminated sheet, which referred to pinning and stapling things to trees as evidence of my contempt for nature, so that was attached to the tree by a large strap, which also secured a stuffed Minion to the treetrunk, a cruel and unusual punishment, in my view. I'm glad to say that someone else removed all that, and we seem to have reached a truce. After all, going out to feed the pigeons would be an unnecessary journey.

Meanwhile, Morgan Sindall continue to occupy parking spaces, but lots of people seem to think that parking regulations have become advisory for the duration. I don't think the Council has that view.


A Strange Land

I hope we didn't all catch the virus in those first few days when the supermarkets were packed with people buying loo paper. I was baffled by the sudden emptiness of the fresh vegetable shelves; how can you stockpile broccoli? The trouble was that it was all a bit wild west, and it was impossible to keep your distance, and the supermarkets seemed to have no mechanism for imposing order. Now it's all a bit better, but it can still be confusing; I encountered a queue outside Tesco at the weekend that appeared longer than it was because of a woman waiting for her husband to come out of the shop, and a beggar, both hanging around the line. Interestingly, most of the beggars have vanished, though there is often still one in front of the cash machine at the Chippenham.

Having a wife who used to be a ballet dancer has its moments. Fiona has discovered that Tamara Rojo, the director of English National Ballet, has started to live-stream company class (that's the session that all the dancers in the company do before they go off to their various rehearsals). This started with a number of dancers in a proper ballet studio, but now we are down to Tamara on her own in her kitchen. The first morning, I remarked that it did have the look of a kitchen where all the clutter had just been hidden away, not one that was naturally clinical. Fiona wondered whether Tamara had deliberately had the worktops fitted precisely at barre height, as ours are not quite the right height. Still, she found that you can hang onto the edge of the sink quite effectively, but it's a good thing we haven't got one of those trendy island units, as you could never do class then. 

At St Peter's, we continue to try to feed people. No more sit-down meals, though the first time we tried to do that some of the regulars got in via the side door. The problem is that our clientele are not always easily impressed by rational argument, and the desire of some of them to be helpful can be overwhelming. So, we have had to be strict. Food banks are encouraged to continue, and that's what we have become. We are still getting deliveries from the Felix Project, and are parcelling food up and giving it out. If people have to line up they have to do so outside, two arms' lengths apart, and we're delivering some meals to people. At first I feared that Felix would have nothing, since they distribute stuff that the supermarkets can't sell, and as panic-buying was emptying the supermarkets I was afraid that would mean we would get nothing, but deliveries have continued, if a little eccentrically. Quail, anyone?

So now I have a You Tube channel (do subscribe). With the very considerable assistance of a Lunch Club volunteer I discovered how easy it is to live-stream. I was fussed about getting a decent webcam and so hurtled over to John Lewis (when you still could) only to discover that they had sold out, including online. Enquiries revealed that there seemed to be none to be had anywhere in the south of England. A very kind friend then retrieved her webcam from her mother and sent it to me by post (which was being delivered then) but by the time it arrived I had already done it once using the camera and microphone built into my laptop, and found the results acceptable. After all, who wants to see me in HD? Having got it to work once means that my fear of the technology is a strong disincentive from changing anything now, though I'm sure it can be improved. We shall see. Someone else asked me how to do it, and I had to admit that I couldn't explain because it was really very easy and I didn't remember what I clicked and when. That doesn't stop me doing things wrong, and yesterday we lost transmission halfway through Mass, which wasn't my fault (as far as I know). But, technical glitches aside, we are successfully broadcasting a Sunday Mass, and other services as well, and the feedback is tremendous. I am moved and heartened by the messages that I am receiving back, and I have to say that this is the most positive feedback I've ever received in more than thirty years of ministry. Being able to use the beauty and resources of St Mary Magdalene's is a great benefit in this. It's not the same as normal Sunday worship, because we have no music, and I can't move about, and it's only me with Fiona answering, but we can offer spiritual resources, and an experience of worship that people can share. We even managed to do Stations of the Cross, with me carrying an iPad around the church, which was jolly hard work, and a bit wobbly, but worked. The only cloud on the horizon is that the Archbishops think that this is a bad thing, and that we should only be streaming from our homes. My own inner turmoil when receiving that pronouncement was acute, as I am not a natural rebel, but I am quite clear that my going into church to do this can do no harm, while the good that the services are doing is immense (and much greater than if they came from my dining room). So, yesterday (like many others) I rebelled, for the sake of my people's spiritual lives.