The Inquisitive Cow on the Divided Line, Siege of Tobruk and Two Artists

dúnadan: Hallo and welcome to a field somewhere in central Dorset, not too far from Dorchester, the capital of this brave and noble county. With me for the last time this year on what is quite frankly a windy and rather gloomy afternoon is the inquisitive cow. Hallo Gerrie!
inq. cow: Hallo dúnadan!
dúnadan: Well, what a year we have had. Lots of interesting topics of conversation and meetings with your friends. To celebrate the end of the year, I have brought a glass of milk for you and a glass of wine for myself, although, upon reflection, I wonder if I should not have brought something stiffer for both of us!
inq. cow: Indeed. Perhaps we might have our next interview indoors. I think it will be colder in January and February, you know.
dúnadan: You are probably right. So, how was your Christmas?
inq. cow: Ah, we had a wonderful time. The family got together to eat grass. We had a sing-a-long in the barn and saw Farmer Phil's volcano erupt. A most impressive sight leading only to slight damage on the roof of his house.
dúnadan: Slight damage?!
inq. cow: Well, it is true that the west wing of the house has been melted, but I think even he realises that it was a bit silly and unecessary importing some lava from Mt Vesuvius.
dúnadan: Now then, before we get distracted, let's return to Plato. A few weeks ago you were telling me how excited you by him.

Plato: Gerrie Cow's man of the year

inq. cow: Yes, indeed! To think that one man could be so insightful! Ah, can we just talk about him, today?
dúnadan: No! I can't guarantee that the readers will share your enthusiasm for him. Let's restrict ourselves to Plato's divided line.
inq. cow: Right. We are currently standing beside a sand pit which Tecumseh has been using these last few days to demonstrate how Julius Caesar defeated Pompey at Pharsalus. If I clear away his toy soldiers and even out the sand >shuffling sound<
dúnadan: That is a remarkably straight line.
inq. cow: Thank you. Now, let me mark both ends 'A' and 'E'. Plato used the divided line to show the difference between the intelligible world - represented by 'A' - and visible world - represented by 'E'. This line is 12 human feet long. One foot after 'A', I shall mark 'B'. Three feet from 'B', I shall mark 'C'. And a further three feet from 'C' I shall mark 'D'. No further lines cut 'D' off from 'E'. You will by now, I expect, be wondering what the line and its divisions represent.
dúnadan: The thought had crossed my line- I mean, mind!
inq. cow: Well, I shall tell you! The divided line represents the various levels of existence: as I said just now, the intelligible and visible. 'A' to 'C' represents that which is visible. 'C' to 'E' represents the higher and lower forms that are known only through reason. So what do the internal divisions mean? Well, 'A' to 'B' represents the shadow of the ordinary objects that are marked out by 'B' to 'C' - like grass. While 'C' to 'D' are the simpler rational forms so that 'D' to 'E' are the higher. Wonderful!
dúnadan: Umm... well, it's something! Why are the divisions not equal?
inq. cow: The shorter they are the more obvious they are to us. So, 'A' to 'B' is the shortest because visible objects are very clear and knowable whereas higher rational knowledge is more difficult.
dúnadan: That would mean that it is clearer what the shadow of a thing is rather than what it is itself.
inq. cow: Yes.
dúnadan: Hmm. Alright then, what is meant by 'shadows' of visible objects?
inq. cow: I mean their representations. This, I think and hope, could be in science or art.
dúnadan: I see. Let's come to the intelligible world.
inq. cow: Ah, yes, let's. 'C' to 'D' represents the truth about the forms that are themselves represented by 'B' to 'C'. It is what they really are, as opposed to what they are represented as being (in 'A' to 'B'). 'D' to 'E' are the higher, if not highest, truths. Plato thought that the highest truth of all was the Form of the Good. As I said, we can only know what things really are and what is really good by use of reason.
dúnadan: This is a very deep subject.
inq. cow: Indeed it is and I must say it confuses me no little end. But then, I am but a cow.
dúnadan: In that case, I must be one too! Perhaps we will come back to Mr. Plato because my mind is starting to fog. For the time being, let's change subject. You and Tecumseh Squirrel have been playing video games this week!

The Seige of Tobruk

inq. cow: Indeed. The little red baron is going off to Switzerland in a few weeks to take part in a military conquest competition. He doesn't need training, but he insisted on it, so we played out the third battle of Tobruk - Operation Crusader - on his video game machine. I am afraid to say that I did not do the Allies justice. The real battle, as I have since found out, lasted almost two months between early November and the end of December in 1941. It was the Allies third attempt to raise the Nazis' siege of the city and was finally successful. Tecumseh defeated me in about twelve hours (game time). Not only did I fail to raise the siege but he made off in my ships! How was I to know the sole purpose of the game was to win the battle and not conduct field expeditions as well?
dúnadan: But going out into the field is a vital part of any battle.
inq. cow: Well, my purpose wasn't wholly to do with the war. Egypt is right over the border so I thought it would be good to do some archeological excavations!
dúnadan: Oh, Gerrie! You aren't made for wars. One thing you do like, as we know, is drawing. This week, you have been diversifying.
inq. cow: That is true. My joy is in sketching natural scenes - like the snowflakes we talked about before - but this Christmas I was given a book with illustrations by the Victorian artist Kate Greenaway and contemporary Czech artist Kveta Pacovska.

dúnadan: When I transcribe
the interview I will place
examples of each artist's work side by side so that our readers can see how different they are.
inq. cow: We could spend a long time talking about how realistic Kate Greenaway's artwork was in comparison to Kveta Pacovska whose style is very stylised, but the only thing I want to say is that I like way in which Pacovska has given the child in her drawing a rather Egyptian looking eye!
dúnadan: It is a rather surreal style that she has. I suppose it reflects where they came from. The Victorians were very practical people, hence their art is realistic. They also had an idealistic view of how children should be, hence this girl seems very well behaved.
inq. cow: And also motherly. The Victorians knew what roles the sexes should have!
dúnadan: Yes, indeed. Well, Gerrie, night is falling and you are off to the New Year's Party in the Wood tonight.
inq. cow: Every year, a different species puts on a play. It can be a bit awkward if bugs are asked to put on the performance, but thankfully, it is the turn of the birds this year. And in view of their expedition last week, it is going to be a joint effort.
dúnadan: So it will about their search for Father Christmas!
inq. cow: That's right. Given all that happened I look forward to it.
dúnadan: Well, I hope you have fun. On my behalf, Gerrie, thank you for being so inquisitive in 2006. I hope nothing changes in 2007.
inq. cow: Happy New Year to you, dúnadan, and to all of our readers.

read more interviews with the inquisitive cow here!

It's party time!

Congratulations are in order!

Last night I had a very enjoyable night out with a certain cantankerous priest of my acquaintance (Fr. P.) and ex-leader of my parish's Sunday evening Mass music group (K.): before he went off and grew up by getting married. The Cantankerous Priest was actually quite well behaved last night, as well he might be, for after serving as a hospital chaplain for two or three years now, he has resigned his position and is about to jet off to America for three months on sabbatical. He deserves every last minute of the break. So, Fr. P., well done to you!

Even more monumental was K.'s news that he and his wife are expecting their second child. Great news indeed! K. and I first met when the C.P. started a young adults group at our church. After growing up, K. and his wife moved to another part of town, so we do not get the chance to meet very often. It was brill to meet him last night and to receive this glad news. 2007 will be an exciting year as another member of that youth group is getting married in the Spring. For now, however, congrats to K. & D.!

Finally, congratulations are in order to me. Paul Burgin, who writes the Mars Hill blog, has named Cally's Kitchen as his best non-political blog of the year which I am very chuffed at. Back in the summer of 2005, Cally's Kitchen was for a time more popular blog than Mars Hill, well, according to our number of profile views, anyway. Then, political blogging got really popular and Mars Hill became one of its elite. Maybe not quite up there with the likes of Iain Dale, Guido Fawkes, Recess Monkey and the like, but not a million miles away, either. As a result, Mars Hill was mentioned in Iain Dale's Top 100 Labour bloggers (in its upper echelons as well, if memory serves) and Paul has even appeared on 18 Doughty Street internet television alongside Mr. Dale. As for me, well, my readership hasn't shot up anywhere and my only claim to fame is to be the interviewer of an inquisitive cow. My theory is that in order to be widely read your blog needs to focus on a particular subject (e.g. politics). Then the reader knows where he stands with you. The more varied the posts the more likely he is to be bored by some of them and so turned off the others. It's either that or I am the only one who can be amused by talking animals, and that plainly can't be true. Anyway, thank you to Paul for the mention, I am very much obliged.

Turner Prize 2006

Today, a friend and I visited Tate Britain to mock the winners of the Turner Prize. As with last year it was not difficult. Why can't artists produce anything that one can view and interpret by oneself without recource to experts? They - the artists - probably think they are being very clever in producing works that do not give themselves away at first sight, and indeed, allow for a multiplicity of interpretations. I say they are just being elitist and smart alecs.

Anyway, there were four exhibits at the exhibition. The first was by an artist named Mark Titchner . It was in several parts, involving a billboard, spinning wheels, car battery type boxes, a stylised tree and something or other on a stand. The second was a series of unsculptored bronzes and clay works by Rebecca Warren which supposedly 'project a sense of unleashed creativity' but which looks more like a work by an artist to lazy to actually do anything with her materials. The third exhibit was the winning one - a series of abstract paintings by Tomma Abts. Although grudgingly, I have to confess that they were quite good. The final exhibit was by an artist doomed not to be taken seriously - his name was Phil Collins. It was in two rooms. The first was simply two large television screens on which you could watch an interviewer and interviewee talking about the interviewee's family. It did not sound a very happy one. The second room was a mock up of an office in which on weekdays (for the duration of the Turner Prize exhibition) Collins and others actually.

As with last year, the best exhibits were the comments left in a separate room. They ranged from the sarcastic to silly, rude and meanginful. I would commend the Turner Prize exhibition if only to read them.

If you would like to see photographs of the four artists' work, then visit the Tate's website here.

Wither Churchill?

There are many evils in the world from which we hope that God will preserve us, one of which is politicians making cack handed attempts to be popular. This week, the Conservative Party has been doing its best to undo the good work of making itself appear electable by publishing a list of Top 12 people 'who shaped our nation'. Quite incredibly, Winston S. Churchill does not appear on the list, even though space is found for Oliver Cromwell. Cromwell, that bloodthirsty knave, is on the list, for what he did for the British Army. I have to admit, I did not know he played any particular role in its development. But I wonder if whatever role Cromwell played in respect of the Army was greater than Churchill's in respect of the institutions that are England and Britain.

The full list can be viewed at the website of the Public Services Challenge. It includes some interesting other names. Of them, the first is the most interesting to me: St. Columba, included for bringing to Christianity to England. So he did, but if we are talking about people who founded institutions, I would have thought St Augustine of Canterbury should have taken precedence.

On W. A. Mozart

While the plebs set about elbowing their way to the next bargain, good news comes to those of us civilised enough to sit back and watch the day go by during Christmas. In Salzburg, a previously unknown work by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart has just been performed. BBC On Line reports that the work - handed to the Archdiocese of Salzburg by an anonymous donor earlier this year - was written by the musical genius between the age of six and ten. Unfortunately, the report does not pass comment on how the two minute piece - entitled Allegro di Wolfgango Mozart - sounded.

On a slight tangent, this would be a good time to mention that on New Year's Day you can watch the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra perform its traditional New Year show of Strauss and other greats. A fine way to begin the year. For more info, visit the BBC website here.

A young Mozart

PS: Did you know that earlier this year, a photograph of Mozart's widow was found. For more, click here.

Shopping Rabble

It's time for a rant. In the evolutionary hierarchy, bargain hunters must be somewhere between the amoeba and mud from whence they came. I do not have a problem with these people seeking a good deal, but when it involves discourteous behaviour towards others, then they deserve to be put in the stocks and have whatever cheap tat they were after thrown at them. Leaving London yesterday for Worcester, I saw photographs in one of the newspapers of a store manager having to physically restrain someone from queue jumping. He looked like he was in a wrestling match.

What is the point? Was the bargain so good that such a high price could be paid in order to get it? Of course not. The person who queue jumps or shoves his way past others in order to Get There First is either a fool, tight fist or descendent of Ebenezar Scrooge. I personally find shopping for anything except books to be a highly disagreeable activity that, if I could, I would pay someone else to do for me. Mind you, if I could do that, I would not care about going bargain hunting anyway. In fact, I don't, not at this time of year anyway. Christmas is when you should be treating yourself to the finer things in life. Your family. Spouse. Books. Wine. Not when you should be acting like one of the unwashed masses. And before anyone accuses me of being a snob, given how long people queue for to get into the shops, they probably really are unwashed. So there.

Anyway, back to shopping. I think a theology of shopping needs to be invented. Just as with the bread and wine, the goods in our high street stores - however cheap or expensive - come ultimately from God's bounty: from the earth. As we should be respectful of alcohol so as to enjoy it more, we should be equally respectful of the clothes line or shelves stacked with toys. One does not even need to be religious to do this. Material goods should be respected if no other reason than that if history had turned out differently in this country, making it more akin to one of the poorer nations of the world, we would have nothing at all. So, let us respect what we have because many others do not. Let us respect it, and, lest I forget, use it well.

At any rate, let's use a little common sense. Nothing is worth having that is worth hurting someone else in order to get. And if one thinks that it is, one is not only a fool, but a wicked one at that.

Caesar - A Goldsworthy

I have just finished reading Caesar The Life of A Colossus by Adrian Goldsworthy. Regarding the book, I can highly recommend it. It is 500 pages long but immensely readable. Perhaps the events that led to Caius Julius Caesar becoming dictator of Rome were so dramatic that even an iliterate could write his story well, but I must commend Goldsworthy on the readability of his text. As with a good novel, he kept me turning the page to see what was going to happen next (even though, in broad outline, I already knew). If I had one criticism, it would be that I feel that the book did tend towards simply describing the events of Caesar's life rather than discuss the meaning behind them to any great depth. But perhaps that it is the novel reader in me wanting more than a historian can rightly give. After all, Goldsworthy does discuss the background to events in Caesar's life.

Imagine you were a Roman aristocrat. Which side would you have supported in the civil war between Caesar and Pompey? That would make an excellent dinner table discussion. After reading this book I would definately have been a Caesarian.

Caius Julius Caesar was born around 100BC. He grew up during the Social War, when Rome went to war against the Italian Socii tribe, and dictatorship of Sulla. His was a dangerous youth. His adulthood was not much different - even before the events of the civil war. At the age of 20 he defied Sulla's order to divorce his wife. A wanted man, he only evaded capture and death thanks to the intercession of high ranking friends. Six years later, Caesar was captured by pirates. A few years later, he fought against Spartacus. A hectic public life in Rome then followed with Caesar attempting to prosecute sundry corrupt Roman officials, usually losing, but all the while increasing his profile. And that was what Caesar was all about. Getting himself seen. His objective? The highest office in Rome - a consulship. In 59BC Caesar achieved it. During his year in charge, he introduced a series of reforming bills, for example, to improve the Republic's agrarian policies. With the help of of his partners in the First Triumvirate - Pompey Magnus and Crassus - the bills went through, but only at the cost of the civil war. After the end of his consulship Caesar went to Gaul as proconsul. Success followed upon success as he put down a series of Gaulish revolts and German infractions. Actually, Caesar did suffer some reverses (e.g. at Gergovia), but not many, and not lasting.

Before continuing this potted biography, I ought to say a quick word about the Roman Republic. It was corrupt. Power lay with the senatorial elite. Elections for the key positions in the government of the Republic were held, but were open to manipulation through bribery and extortion. Worse still, even if a man had a good idea on how to solve a recognised problem, if the senators thought that he would gain too much glory by it, they would vote against his bill. This happened to Caesar. Another common occurance, thanks to do-gooders like Cato, was that after his period in office, a consul could be prosecuted for misusing his position. I get the impression from the book that whether or not he was guilty was not really the point. If the consul had acted against the prosecutor's interest, he was in trouble.

As Caesar's proconsulship in Gaul drew on, he knew that if he returned to Rome as a private citizen, he would be prosecuted for actions he had taken during his consulship. This led him to try and make a deal with Pompey. The men were still friends at this time, but Caesar's enemies had rallied round Pompey - one of the richest and most powerful men in the Republic (if not the most) - making him Caesar's political rival. The attempts at a deal failed, Caesar crossed the Rubicon and the rest is history. If you would like to watch a splendid dramatic reconstruction of the civil war, do watch the Rome tv series, which I have posted on before.

Ciaran Hinds as Caesar in Rome

Speaking of Rome, Caesar casts some of the dramatis personae in a slightly different light. Caesar is treated in both book and programme positively. According to Goldsworthy, however, Mark Anthony was somewhat less handsome and rakish (a la James Bond) than James Purefoy plays him. Also, Pompey is less noble in the book than programme. In Rome, he is a true statesman who has the best intentions but is outwitted by the smarter and better man. In the book, he is revealed as a warrior-statesman, cold blooded in the extreme.

I said that Caesar is given a positive treatment in Goldsworthy's book. This is true, but we musn't say this with our 21st century glasses on. It is true that Casesar was incredibly clement towards his enemies. But that was because an enemy who had an obligation towards him was better than an enemy who was dead. When the situation called for a ruthless response, Caesar was capable of giving the order - as the rebellious Veneti tribe found out, to its cost. Of course, I suppose there is another error that we could fall into, which is, given that altruism in ancient Rome was tied up with winning glory for onself, the Romans really did not go in for good deeds at all. I think they did, just differently to us. Although, not that differently, for does a man become a politician? Yes, to try and make the country a better place, but also to try and get his party re-elected so that the work can carry on.

Anyway, as you can tell, I really enjoyed this book. At the moment, it is only available in hard back but is worth every penny.

The Warriors put to the sword

Worcester Warriors 20 Harlequins 27

Worcester Cathedral

I have just returned home from a whistlestop journey to Worcester to see Harlequins play the Warriors in what was set to be one of the Twickenham team's most vital games of the Christmas period. If the Quins beat them, they would go 11 or 12 points ahead of the bottom placed club. But if they lost, the gap would be just 4 or 5 points.

My day started not long after midday with a journey from home in North London to Paddington Station. My train was not due to depart until 1:52pm but I wanted to be able to stroll there for once, rather than fly down the road at the last minute. As a result of this, I reached Paddington in good time and was able to renew my search (begun a couple of weeks ago when I visited Bath) for the statue of Paddington Bear. Once again, however, I could not find it. If any kind reader knows where Paddington is located, please feel free to le tme know in the comments section.

After a pleasant journey through the Midland countryside, I arrived in Worcester at 4:10pm. Upon my arrival, I had to find a newsagent to buy a street map of the city as I had been unable to locate a suitable one on the internet. However, as I might have guessed, the city is a small one, and my hotel turned out to be hardly 10 or 15 minutes from the railway station.

By the time I had checked in and dumped my rucksack, it was time to leave again as I had arranged to meet some fellow Harlequin fans via the Come All Within forum at a pub near the ground. The pub in question is called the Three Pears. After the game, I noticed that the decoration on the shield of the Worcester warrior (the club's badge) is three pears. What is the significance of pears for Worcester? One can only wonder. Again, if you know, feel free to leave a comment.

Sir Andrew Elgar

Examining my street map, I found that the Three Pears was some distance from the city centre. Actually, if I had arrived earlier, I could have walked it, but it was now past 4:45pm and I know that people would be arriving in the pub from 5pm onwards, so walking there was no longer an option. Instead, I took a taxi. There followed a very enjoyable ride with a driver who was most talkative, but in a good way. In other words, we talked abot sport. Very kindly, after taking a wrong turning, the driver switched off his meter so that I was not overcharged. London taxis and minicabs take note.

At the Three Pears I met my confreres. Their names will have little meaning here, but if you visit the CAW board and see the nom de plums Harley Quin, JTD and Jelly then you will know that they were the ones whom I met. They were very pleasant and had some interesting stories to tell about work and things they had got up to. Something I could not help but notice about the Three Pears was how many Harlequin fans congregated there. Given the close proximity of the pub to the ground (1o mins walk), you would have expected it to be a Worcester stronghold, but it was not so.

When the time came to leave the Three Pears, I tagged along with some Harlequin fans as the three aforementioned Quins had gone early to collect their tickets who followed some Worcester fans... until the said fans told them, actually, were going to our car! Thereafter, we had to hastily find some other Warrioristas and follow them. The journey to the Worcester stadium, Sixways, was interesting as it took as along a wooded path. Well, it was more pleasant than having to walk through an industrial estate to get to Wasps' ground, but I would not walk that way on any other evening for love nor money.

In contrast to the Rec at Bath, Sixways stadium is very well developed. There are stands on all four sides and a Worcester fan told me that it is going to be further developed. As and when that happens, it will be a very impressive stadium indeed. As you'll see from the photos below my seat was in the West stand underneath a wavy roof near the tryline. We saw a good bit of action during the first half as Harlequins scored one of their tries right in front of me. It seemed to me to be a slightly dodgy try (David Strettle diving over the line - just - but seeming to lose the ball just before or after grounding it) but there you go. As in life, so in rugby, sometimes you win by being lucky.

A line out takes place under my nose, metaphorically speaking

On the one hand, Harlequins were quite lucky last night. Two of the team's three tries came from tries which were the product of Worcester mistakes, rather than good play by the Quins, Worcester dominated the scrum only for that advantage to vanish after both Harlequin props went off injured. On the other hand, I felt that the guys played a pretty solid game: for the most part, defending well, closing down attacks and acting with speed to opportunities that came their way. David Strettle particularly deserves praise here. Not only is he fast but is absolutely fearless when it comes to catching the ball. Another player under the spotlight last night was Andy Gomarsall. He left Worcester under acrimonious circumstances at the end of last season and, I think, has taken legal action against the club. Whatever is going on behind the scenes, however, he was still there rallying the players during the game.

Will Worcester be relegated? It is not looking too good for the team at the moment, but the way rugby is, I would not be so pessimistic as some of their fans. Not just yet. The truth is that I think Worcester played no worse (perhaps even better) than Bath did when they beat Harlequins a couple of weeks ago. So why did they lose? For exactly the same reason as Harlequins have done - basic errors. For example, Andrew Mehrtens kicked the game off. The ball came down in front of a Worcester player (Garvey, I believe) and he just watched it like a statue. A Quins player came in behind him and grabbed the ball. There were also needless knock ons and failed passes (one of which led to Simon Keogh taking the ball for Harlequins and running 50 metres to score a try).

Doesn't the touch judge look a bit funny!

Nevertheless, contra BBC's reporter, Harlequins did not obtain an 'unlikely win' last night. The score was only as close as it was thanks to the sure foot of Worcester's kicker, but they never looked like taking and keeping the lead.

As an addendum, I would like to say well done to the Harlequin fans who shouted for the team last night. I couldn't believe that it was Quins fans to begin with, but as the number of syllables in Harlequins and Worcester Warriors is not the same, the matter was soon resolved! Also, I would like to commend the sportsmanship of the Worcester fans. Every penalty kick was greeted with hushed silence. One nitwit in the row in front of me took it upon himself to shout at Andrew Mehrtens just as he kicked a conversion. After announcing the score, the P.A. man then pointedly reminded the fans (or rather, this one idiot) of the tradition of rugby that silence is maintained at this time. The silence really was impressive - I wish it was observed as well at the Stoop.

After the game, I ended up at the bus stop outside the ground. A was the recipient of two acts of kindness by a Worcester fan. The first came after I asked him if we needed to pay. Season ticket holders don't. His son had been due to join him for this game, but hadn't. Therefore, he said, if you don't mind being my son, I will show them his season ticket and you can travel for free! Once we were on the bus, we chatted, and I said I was going into town. Oh no, this bus was going to a car park on the edge of town! But, once again, the fellow came to my rescue and offered to drive me into the centre of Worcester. He did so, parking right outside the Travelodge. I told this gentlman about Cally's Kitchen, so I hope that he visits and reads of my thanks. It was very much appreciated!

At the end of the game, the Quins said three cheers for Worcester - great stuff

After the excitement and fun of yesterday, it was to home this morning. Harlequins next game is on New Year's Day against Newcastle Falcons at the Stoop. The Quins played and beat Newcastle away a while ago but they - Newcastle - played very impressively to demolish Sale on Tuesday so will be coming to the Stoop full of confidence. I have an objective for that game - to try and find and take a photo of the portrait of Adrian Stoop which, I have been told, is in the Members' bar. Find out if I and the team had a successful day on 1st January 2007, Feast Day, by the way, of the Theotokos - Mary, the Mother of God.

Feast of St John

There are three Feast Days that I have a special love for - Edith Stein's, Mary Magdalene's and today's for it is the Feast Day of St. John the Evangelist. He is my confirmation Saint and the source of my middle name. All the blessings of the day to you!

St John: Pray for us

Berrydict's Christmas

"What is he telling us?!"
"The answer is simple. He believes that the papacy is as important as Jesus!"
"Oh, that is nonsense. Look at his position. He is in the corner. Behind the ox and ass. It is a sign of humility."

What were they talking about? A reporter for Rai Uno had the answer. "We have come to St. Peter's Square for an extra-ordinary audiance with... a sleeping cat!" It was true. It was Christmas morning and at the back of the life size presepe, that is, Nativity Scene, underneath the obelisk in the middle of the square was Berrydict the papal cat, curled up and enjoying an extremely nice rest. That is, until the tourists and faithful who had come to hear his owner's Urbi et Orbi address had noticed him. Now, a large crowd of them surrounded the Nativity Scene, clicking away with their cameras. And at home, millions of Italians ahhhd as the Rai camera zoomed in on Berrydict. He opened a lazy eye and took in the onlookers. They made him tired, so he stood up, arched his back in a long stretch before curling up again. Only, this time, he was met by Monsignor Catswein.
"Berry, your owner is due to give his address in less than an hour."
Purrrrrrrr.
"If you stay I think there is a danger that you'll upstage him!"
Purrrrrrr.
"He has laid out some biscuits for you in your basket. Berrydict looked up.
"Salmon?"
"Indeed." Berry stood up.
"But I cannot go without meeting the faithful!" And so, Berrydict sneaked out of the little hole at the back of the Nativity Scene (which, by the way, had several figures donated by a Saint - Vincent Pellotti - in 1842) and walked coolly round to where the Catholics were standing. Among them were a number of Catolics as well. Berrydict went to them first. They purred loudly and sniffed his nose and snuzzled his fur. The Catholics ahhhd just just the television viewers and leaned down to stroke him. And so great were all their numbers that it was only as Berrydict's owner came out onto the St Peter's loggia to deliver his Christmas message that he was able to get to and dash past the Swiss Guards at the Arch of the Bells and so disappear out of public view. But Berrydict's owner had sharp eyes and noticed that a small but significant number of people on the far side of the square were looking away from him.

That evening, Berrydict's owner gave the papal cat a strip of the venison that he had enjoyed for dinner. As he did so, he mentioned what he had seen. Berrydict chuckled.
"They were angry with the Swiss Guards." he said.
"Angry?"
"For locking me out last night."
"Oh, they didn't, did they?"
"Indeed, after Midnight Mass. I went for a walk to get some fresh air and by the time I got back, the whole Catican had been locked up for the night! Well, I had to find somewhere warm to sleep, so I went to the Nativity Scene. Straw is very comfortable, I must say."
"Oh, Berry!" his owner laughed, "You are funny!" and he gave him another strip of venison. Berrydict gobbled it down, jumped on his owner's lap, made himself comfortable and curled up once more. His owner was happy to sit back awhile and let the papal cat sleep. Alas, all was not well with the world on the anniversiry of the birth of its saviour, but here, there was peace, and he did not wish to disturb it.

Read more Berrydict stories here!

Devotions & Prayers Meme

As the turkey roasts in the oven... this meme pilfered from the Happy Catholic.

Favourite devotion or prayer to Jesus?
I am afraid to say that I don't really have a favourite devotion or prayer... I do like the Stations of the Cross though.

Favourite Marian devotion or prayer?
It has to be the Hail Mary.

Do you wear a scapular or medal?
Yes - a brown scapular as I am most fond of the Discalced Carmelites.

Do you have holy water in your home?
Tricky. A friend once gave me some water he had purchased in Lourdes. I can't remember whether he said it was blessed or not. Unfortunately, he is now dead so I can't ask him. However, given its provenance, I would say that the water probably is holy.

Do you 'offer up' your sufferings?
Oh yes - thanks to the Catholic chaplain at university through whom I learnt about this act/devotion.

Do you observe First Fridays and First Saturdays?
No and No. I have to admit I have not even heard of the First Saturday devotion.

Do you go to Eucharistic Adoration?
Yes, occasionally.

Are you a Saturday evening Mass person or Sunday morning Mass person?
Neither. I am a Sunday Evening man.

Do you say prayers at mealtime?
We (i.e. Arathorn) say grace at teatime.

Favourite Saint(s)?
St Edith Stein, St John, St Theresa of Avila and St John of the Cross, St Mary Magdalene for. Looking ahead, St John Henry Newman.

Can you recite the Apostles' Creed by heart?
Oh dear, no. Strangely enough, though, I have no problems reciting the Nicene Creed at Mass (and not after I have heard it from the man in front of me, either).

Do you usually say short prayers (aspirations) during the course of the day?
I usually pray (or attempt to) the Rosary during the day.

Bonus Question: When you pass by a car accident or other serious mishap, do you say a quick prayer for the folks involved?
If I remember, yes. If I see an ambulance or fire engine whizzing past I try to do so then, as well.

I read on a blog yesterday that 'meme' is pronounced 'meem' which I think is daft. It will remain 'meh - mee' to me. Anyway, as it is probably unfair to tag people on Christmas Day, I shall leave this one open. If you would have to partake, please do so!

Midnight Encounters

The Lead Up to...

I arrived at church just after eleven pm, in good time to secure a seat. As I sat and waited for the carols to begin at 11:30pm, I watched the altar servers prepare the sanctuary and the thought came to me that it is surely more proper for laymen to serve in the sanctuary as altar servers rather than Eucharistic Ministers or even readers. The latter two jobs are bound up with the matter of the altar and so would seem to me to be appropriate to the ministry of the priest.

...Midnight Mass

While I enjoy reading the blogs of traditionalist (that is, Orthodox) Catholics very much, I do sometimes get the impression that they believe that the smallest word or motion out of place invalidates the whole Mass and will probably be a major cause of the destruction of the Catholic Church - along with, inevitably, Vatican II. I don't quite see it like that. I have no doubt that God desires that we celebrate Mass properly and that the Church adheres to His truth rather than the mistakes and lies of men, but I don't think that this desire comes at the cost of forgiveness and patience in respect of our errors. That would be just as well because if God really was so unforgiving my parish church would have been thunderbolted a long time ago. Instead, as frayed at the edges as it invariably is, the Midnight Mass was a service of great joy. Last night, as is always the case, the fraying came during the carols that were sung in the lead up to midnight. The awkward metre of The First Nowell as well as one or two other carols caught numerous people (including me!) out. Once the Mass started, we were on safer ground. For the first time, I remembered to listen out for the famous ad multis phrase. As readers of Catholic blogs and the Catholic press will know, the issue of how to translate these two Latin words has been a live one of late. Traditionalists have gone for 'for many' while liberals (by which I actually mean correspondents of The Tablet) have stuck with 'for all'. Given that I who has been reading all about this debate hardly ever 'hears', or perhaps I should say notices, these words, I suspect your average man in the pew is not really be bothered one way or the other and will continue to not be when the new translation comes into effect.

Being a Eucharistic Minister

Upon my arrival at the church last night, I was asked if I might join the extra-ordinary ministers. It is always my privilege and joy to do so. An occupational hazard of this work, however, is that fewer people than expected drink from the chalice, and so one is obliged to consume rather alot more of the blood under the appearance of wine than is easy to do. If you imagine a two thirds full glass of wine (perhaps a little more), that is what I was left with last night. Three gulps later I needed a little water to counter the effect.

An Unexpected Encounter

I have two friends who for various reasons I see intermittently - and therefore not enough - at the 6:30pm Mass that I usually attend. When I do see them, it is usually one or the other. Last night, however, that changed when I met both friends at the end of Mass. I had no idea that they were present so you can imagine my surprise, and, much more importantly, delight. I don't think either of them read this blog so I won't embarrass them by saying that they are the best of people who I wish I did see more often. And E & V, if you do happen to read this, I am not going to apologise as it is true!

A Noise In the Dark

My only meal yesterday was at dinner (or to some, lunch) time. By the time of the midnight Mass, my stomach was rumbling a little. So, upon my return home, I sought out an emergency can of spaghetti (I am a high class man) and sat down to eat. It was one thirty am. As I ate, I heard a familiar sound Miaoow! I looked up at the kitchen door and called for Berry to come in. He didn't. Well, I was too hungry to be getting up to open the door for him when he is perfectly capable of doing it by himself, so I ate on. A couple of minutes came that same familiar sound, this time more insistant Miaoow Miaooow! Sigh. This time, I got up and crossed the kitchen to open the door. But no one was there! Hmm. Had I mistaken another sound for the miaow? I was still pondering this when I heard a third cry. That, without doubt, was the cry of a cat - and it was coming from the window sill. To understand my surprise when realising this, you have to know that the windowsill in question is about seven or eight feet from ground level (the pavement outside) and not easily accessable to a cat - especially one who never goes onto the pavement. Anyway, I walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain and there was his Berryship looking very awkward as if to say I have got myself here but am not wholly sure on how to get back! My first thought was to open the window for him, except that this particular window - due to paint - cannot be opened. So, I ventured outside. By standing on the ledge upon which the railing that separates the window from the pavement and leanin forward I was able to bring myself close to Berry. I first attempted to take him by the scruff of the neck. Dear reader, he was having none of that! I remember the vet saying that cats don't mind being lifted in that fashion as that is how their mothers carried them, but Berry was having none of it. So, when I stroked his ear to calm him down, he fell on his side and started to claw me. A very awkward mixture of play and anger. Our previous cat, Fudge (of blessed memory) would climb onto one's shoulder if she wished to come down from a height. Unfortunately, Berry has no history of that, so that option was a no-no. I was stuck. Despite raising myself up, I could not simply lift Berry up as normal as he was still a little high and the windowsill railing was in the way. I decided then to see if I could find something that he could walk onto and I could bring him down on. I checked the lids of our bins. No such luck: attached to their bin! To get into our house, one must walk several steps up the porch. On the left of it, there is an empty window. This was how Berry jumped onto the ledge in the first place (presumably after jumping from the top of the stairs that lead down into our garden and onto the pavement in the first place). And guess what, this is how he jumped back. Once I appeared in the window, he looked up, steadied himself and then voila! It was actually quite an impressive sight to see him jump towards oneself. From there, it was back into the kitchen to feed the poor thing (indeed!) and me and thereafter, thankfully, to bed!

The Christmas Cow & Friends

dúnadan: Hallo! It is a snowy Christmas Eve here in Dorset and as the light fades and before we set our eyes to the sky to see if Father Christmas is coming, I am here with my friend the inquisitive cow!
inq. cow: Happy Christmas, dúnadan. Would you like grass pie?!
dúnadan: Er... I think I will stick with my mince ones for now. Well, Gerrie, this week we are doing things a little differently because we have an audience here in Farmer Bill's field >A Very Big Cheer goes up<
inq. cow: And don't think I can't see the queue jumping at the back! Remember what I said - appearing on the dúnadan's blog Will Not Make You Famous!
owl type voice: Ohhhhh!
dúnadan: So, thanks to our first guest, this was a very exciting week. Hallo Tecumseh Squirrel!

tecumseh poses

tecumseh squirrel: I came, I saw I donated a Christmas tree!
inq. cow: Tecumseh, you were very naughty, racing across the fields with your legion like that. Did you not know that Farmer Bill forbade you to enter his field with your army under the standard?
tecumseh squirrel: But of course! He he. That's why I ordered him to stay in the hillside field when we came over the hedgerow.
dúnadan: The bats there got a nasty surprise, although, once they found out that you had only come to give Farmer Bill a tree they were very game about the whole business. We are sitting under the tree, bathing in its fairy lights right now, and I can see a number of them sleeping under the higher branches.
inq. cow: Tecumseh, in ancient Rome, the generals would disband their armies once the conflict for which they had assembled them was over. I trust that you will be doing the same?
tecumseh squirrel: Of course! Although, like the great generals, I will have to find my veterans land somewhere, so I think I may stand for election for the Woodland council.
inq. cow: You had better not have any assasinations in mind. That would be very naughty and upset your mother.
tecumseh squirrel: She has already threatened to send me on another acheological dig if I cause a nuisance!
dúnadan: Ha! Our next guest comes into his own at Christmas time. Hallo Rudy the Wooden Reindeer

rudy: Am I on?
dúnadan: Yes you are.
rudy: Hallo internet!! Father Christmas turned my application to join his reindeer sleighpullers again this year, but I am confident that with exercise, I can loosen up my joints for Christmas 2007!
inq. cow: Rudy, have you ever considered that your gifts lie beyond sleigh pulling. For example, you are the Dorset cow sticks champion this year.
rudy: Only in the reindeer catagory though!
inq. cow: Nevertheless, it is an important award.
rudy: But I was the only entrant!
inq. cow: Admittedly we did hold the competition a bit late - yeterday - when all the artic reindeer are busy... well, anyway, Rudy, what is your favourite food?
rudy: Oooooohhhh, I love lichen! And mushrooms! I am also finding myself extremely partial to Christmas cake!
dúnadan: Oh, Rudy, you haven't been in Mrs Farmer Phil's kitchen again, have you?
rudy: >Mmmph!< >sound of Rudy swallowing hastily<
prof. mrs. owl: Not exactly modelling! We were asked to pose for a children's book. It has been published and we look forward to being famous! learned owl: It was a most agreeable experience. I believe the artist caught my landing profile very well. I really do land that dramatically every time. It's because I am thinking of knowledge.
inq. cow: I understand that learning owlet has had concerns that with all the snow and fog that has been around these last few days, Father Christmas may not make it to the Wood.
prof. mrs. owl: Indeed! And so, to provide assurance to him in this regard, we - and a number of other bird parents - will be flying up, up, up - even beyond the clouds - in the early hours of the morning to make sure Father Christmas does not miss us. Jenny Wren flew to Lapland this week to speak to him so we are confident of success.
learned owl: The Tercel Triplets have made it their stated aim to claw the reindeer if he does. I do hope they were joking.
prof. mrs. owl: Oh, Dear, those three are the worst practical jokers! You should never believe a word they say.
learned owl: Yes, but still... it would be the most awful shame if Father Christmas was not to come. He leaves presents for adults too, you know.
prof. mrs. owl: My darling!
dúnadan: Let's leave the Owls to either fight or snog. Well, Gerrie, we are already nearly out of time. But we cannot finish without saying hello to the man whose land I intruded on last May to interview you for the first time. Hallo Farmer Bill.
farmer bill: My lad! How's it with ye?
dúnadan: Yes, I am well, what about you?
farmer bill: Lookin' forward to Christmas day and me cider!
dúnadan: But you have a bottle in your hand right now.
farmer bill: An' yer point is, cityboy?!
inq. cow: Just make sure you are sober enough to do your duties or your mother and father will give you a cuff round the ear, Farmer Bill.
farmer bill: Aye, tha' Gerrie knows how to speak!
inq. cow: We have one very last guest, dúnadan. Back from Ireland with a crate of guinness from his new friends there, but with no time to drink it is Bertie Pig!

bertie pig: Hallo everyone! >Another Very Big Cheer goes up<

dúnadan: Let me explain to the readers that Bertie is back in the hot air balloon that he first tried to escape from the farm in in August 2005. Thankfully, it has been patched up. Bertie, explain yourself. Is this another escape attempt?
bertie pig: Not at all, I just want to join the birds when they set off to find Father Christmas! Of course, if the balloon should take me to the moon and moon pigs, I would not mind at all!
inq. cow: Fortunately, Percy is going with his younger brother. Percy, what is your strategy for ensuring that this expedition goes well?
percy pig: Oink! Plan A is blind hope. Plan B is blind panic! As long as we do not crashland on Farmer Phil's reconstruction of a live volcano afterwards, I will be happy!
inq. cow: It promises to be a very interesting night, tomorrow, especially since the Health and Safety Inspector just laughed - nervously - and ran as fast as he could when Farmer Phil asked for a safety certificate!
dúnadan: Well, Gerrie, there it is. What will you be up to tomorrow?
inq. cow: Naturally, I will be thinking inquisitive thoughts and eating grass. Our own nativity play will be in the Wood theatre in the morning. I am playing a cow. Can you imagine that?!
dúnadan: Well, it has been good fun speaking to you this year and everyone just now. Happy Christmas and I shall you on New Year's eve when, perhaps, we will get round to discussing those overdue topics!
inq. cow: Indeed! Merry Christmas dúnadan - and to all our readers!

read more interviews with the inquisitive cow here

Cow picture from All Things Christmas
The Christmas Owls by Judy West at Amazon.co.uk
Bertie is not sponsored by Guinness but hopes for more free beer by advertising their website

The Chair Speaks out at Christmas

This meeting is called to order

"On behalf of the council, the Chair extends his Christmas greetings to all the readers of his column here in Cally's Kitchen. In his humble opinion, it is quite the best thing on this web log, certainly alot more relevant than all the usual whimsy so beloved of the 'dúnadan'.

"What is first on the agenda today? Well, surprise surprise, we are going to France. No, don't groan Vice Chair as it is not to discuss the delightful Miss Royal, although we can if a majority wish...? It appears tiredness has overtaken the council already as no hands have been raised. Oh well. Back to France. I would like to propose that this council formally congratulates the French Government for defying all the odds and its own convention by issuing the Brother-in-Law of the dúnadan by issuing him with an emergency passport, thus allowing him and his family to spend the Christmas with his family in Paris. Quite how the French embassy managed this, especially so close to Christmas, is quite amazing, but well done to it.

"If scorn was a liquid, I would be pouring it all over the Disney Corporation today. Not content with ruining numerous children's books (e.g. Winne the Pooh and Peter Pan) by turning them into anodyne cartoons, Disney staff had the cheek to tell a gentleman at one of its parks - one who resembled Father Christmas - to stop pretending to be him [story here - d.]. Why? Because Disney wished 'to preserve the magic of Santa who, according to the unfortunate gentleman, they believe to be a Disney character'!!!! May I offer this lesson to the Disney Corp. (A) The Santa Claus character is based on a Christian Saint: St Nicholas Therefore, if anyone 'owns' him it is the Catholic Church. (B) The modern day appearance Santa Claus was invented by the Coca Cola company in the 1930s.

Vice Chair: "Actually, Mr. Chair, can I interrupt on a point of order."

Chair: "If you must."

Vice Chair: "The Coca Cola company did not invent the modern appearance of Santa Claus - who historically, by the way, is a character distinct from Father Christmas - they only adapted an already existing image of him, one of many, I might add [see here for further details - d].

Chair: "Ah. Well, I see. That's alright because my point remains, namely, that the Dismal Corporation did not invent Santa Claus and their employees have no right telling anyone that they did.

"Moving on now. Colonel Bufty has asked us to note the latest bad news that will undoubtedly lead to this country - once so great and proud - becoming a totalitarian state. He refers, of course, to identity cards. Unfortunately, the Colonel is stuck at home today so here is his prepared statement: "Who ever would have thought that it would be the Labour Government that would force British people to have ID cards? Irony of ironies. And do you think it will prevent terrorism? Well, do strict gun laws prevent gun crime? Of course not. Bloody Socialists. They like nothing more than to ruin our lives, in fact ---" Actually, I think I ought not to read any further. You can imagine how it goes.

"Finally, let me pass round a print out of the following picture, by the 'artist' known as Banksy.

(santa hat tip to Mars Hill for the image)

It is, of course, very witty. Although, one does wonder if the Holy Family - being Jewish - would have had any difficulty in passing through the wall's checkpoint. And, it may be said, if they would not have actually preferred to be walled off from the Roman legions. The latter were not benevolent rulers.

"Anyway, that is all for now. We want to keep this meeting short as mince pies and mulled wine awaits us! On behalf of the council, may I wish all our readers a very happy Christmas indeed. We hope that it is a joyful time for you, a true reflection of the joy of the Incarnation. Now, last one to the mulled wine is a trotskyite!"

Read more from the Chair's minutes here

Favourite... Meme

Paulinus has tagged me with the following Favourites Meme. As it is Christmas Eve and I have nothing to do until Midnight Mass tonight, I am more than happy to oblige.

Your Favourite Film?
Extremely difficult this. As I have mentioned elsewhere, the John Hughes teen drama Some Kind of Wonderful and Anthony Minghella's epic The English Patient are the two contenders. If I absolutely HAD to pick one, it would be Some Kind of Wonderful on the grounds that Mary Stuart Masterson is in it. For all his worth, Herodotus cannot compare to her.

Your Favourite Film with a Religious theme?
Hmm... I think that would have to be The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, last Christmas.

Your Favourite Film Priest?
Father Gabriel from The Mission, no doubt about it.

Your Favourite Film Nun?
That is more difficult. In fact, I can't answer it as I don't know any film nuns. Can anyone help?

Tagging: Fr Nicholas, Paul Burgin and Fr David who needs to be inducted into the world of memes and - if you are not one of the above - YOU.

Track Santa

Track Santa!

Courtesy of NORAD - the North American Defence Command - who have been monitoring Father Christmas' movements for the last half century. With the advent of the internet, you can watch Santa via NORAD's dedicated website. At the time of writing, Santa has six hours to go before the busiest night of his year begins. Absolutely brilliant.

What can be going on?

Funny things are happening on the internet. I am still unable to access my parish church website and now Joanna Bogle's blog has been reduced to a string of code. Does anyone else find it impossible to access these websites?

The Holy Family

So, to the Cathedral this afternoon where I visited her Nativity scene in the Chapel of St Joseph.

As we take a closer look at the Nativity scene, I must comment on a sight which I did not take a photograph of, but, upon reflection, I should have liked to have done.

That is of the red hat that hangs to the left of the grave of Cardinal Hinsley. It was in a sorry state, being quite decayed. According to the Cathedral website, this is quite deliberate as the decayed hat serves as a reminder to those of us still living of our mortality. I seem to remember reading once of a tradition that cardinals would only escape from Purgatory once the tassles from their hat fell down. If that is the case, Cardinal Hinsley does not have too long left to go.

Finally, although the chapel is dedicated to St Joseph, here is a mosaic of the holy family that decorates the semi domed ceiling above the altar.

The proper reason for my Cathedral visit was for confession. When I joined the queue, I took the very last seat. As sometimes happens, the queue moved forward quite rapidly. It continued in this vein after I turned the corner (the chairs are set at a right angle alongside the wall towards the front of the church) when I discovered that it was because one or two penitents simply weren't moving along as and when people left the queue to go to the confessional. There was a Mass going on at the time which they were very involved in, but given that this is a busy time, I thought their reluctance to keep moving bad form. They should have known that their actions would cause some to have to stand unnecessarily.

We fought the law and we won

BBC On Line reports a very regretful story that has an equally pleasing outcome. Joe and Helen Roberts of Lancashire complained to Wyre Borough Council about the use of tax payers' money to fund leaflets on gay rights. Some little Hitler then went and called the police who questioned the Roberts on their beliefs. Those of you in Britain who read Private Eye will recognise the police officers as being on loan from Neasden police station. With this in mind, the Roberts may consider themselves fortunate that as well as being questioned, they were not shot to death in order to secure public safety.

Anyway, a trial date had been set but has now been abandoned as the Council and police have finally woken up and smelled the mulled wine and apologised to Mr and Mrs Roberts for their treatment. As a plus, the couple have been given £10,000 in compensation. Merry Christmas Wyre Council and Lancs. police! Being the season of goodwill, I am sure that the subjects of Lancashire will not be concerned with your waste of council / police time and money.

A Matter of Grave Concern

From BBC On Line:

Italy's Roman Catholic Church has denied the right to a religious funeral to a terminally ill man whose fight to die sparked a fierce euthanasia debate.
Piergiorgio Welby died in Rome on Wednesday when a doctor turned off his life support machine at his request.
Church officials said they could not grant the request of the Welby family for a funeral in his local parish.
They said Mr Welby had gone against Catholic teaching by expressing a desire to end his life. "Welby had repeatedly and publicly affirmed his desire to end his own life, which is against Catholic doctrine," a Church statement said.
Full story here

This is, of course, a very sad story. In considering it, I find myself being a little ambivilant about the Church's decision. While Sig. Welby had gone against Catholic teaching, there is no mention that he had ever formally stated 'I do not consider myself a Catholic'. If he had, then there could be no controversy about the refusal of the Church to give him a Catholic funeral. The problem for me is that at any given time, I suspect most if not all Catholics are living in sin of one kind or another. In other words, just like Sig. Welby's was, their hearts and heads are turned away from God. Yet if they died in that state, as he appears to have done, they would still be afforded a Catholic funeral. Why should this be the case? It seems to me that the Church is saying that Welby's suicide is worse than other sins. But while of suicide, the Catechism states,

Suicide contradicts the natural inclination of the human being to preserve and perpetuate his life.
It is gravely contrary to the just love of self.
It likewise offends love of neighbour because it unjustly breaks the ties of solidarity with family, nation, and other human societies to which we continue to have obligations.
Suicide is contrary to love for the living God.

it adds,

Grave psychological disturbances, anguish, or grave fear of hardship, suffering, or torture can diminish the responsibility of the one committing suicide.

We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives.
(para 2281 -3)

Unless he had repudiated his membership of the Church, I wonder if she should not have given Welby the benefit of the doubt here.

World Wide Wally

Gahh! I have been updating the parish website (Our Lady & St Joseph's, Kingsland) this morning. A few minutes ago, I tried to load the website to check something on it only for Firefox to tell me it cannot do so. Internet Explorer is equally useless.

Did I mention that I haven't started my Christmas shopping yet, either?

Vigils and Obligations

This Sunday presents an interesting problem for the discerning Catholic. It is Week Four of Advent. But, since Christmas Day falls on Monday this year, Sunday is also Christmas Eve. If on the 24th, therefore, I go to the evening Mass at my church, am I fulfilling my Sunday or my Christmas Day obligation or both?

The word on the street (or, rather, on the leaflet giving the times of Masses at my parish during the Christmas season) is that the evening Mass this year is a vigil, therefore, I would need to go to an earlier Mass in order to fulfil the Sunday obligation. Coupled with the fact that I was scheduled to do the reading at the evening Mass, this could have meant that I would have to attend Mass four times in twenty-four hours at my parish church:

• Sunday morning to fulfil the Sunday obl.
• Sunday evening to fulfil the reading obl.
• Midnight Mass
• Christmas Day Mass.

Of couse, the last two above were not strictly speaking necessary, however, I would not miss them for the world. Fortunately, I won't need to set up camp in the aisle as I have been informed that as the Sunday evening Mass is 'especially' for families, their progeny will be doing the readings. So, I may still end up there in the morning... although, speaking of vigils, I could go to the vigil tonight. And I hear Westminster Cathedral is looking good at this time of year (all the holy people coming out of confession, of course.)

Onward Mohammedan Soldiers

Harlequins 16 Saracens 20

There was fog in the air and in the Harlequins' brains tonight as they did their best to throw away victory against the Premiership's premier Christian team. And, having mastered the art of throwing games away through basic training ground errors - fumbling the ball, knocking on, forward passes etc - they succeeded. In light of this, what can be said about this game that hasn't been said before. Harlequins dominated the game in terms of posession and, I reckon, territory too. Saracens' chances for scoring were limited. But guess what, when they had them, they took them.

Full of the Christmas spirit, Harlequins started their acts of giving early: within five minutes the visitors were 12 nil up. Things calmed down after that but - just as against Bath last week - Harlequins were left to play catch up. Thanks to Adrian Jarvis, catch up they did, going 16 - 15 ahead deep in the second half. That Saracens only put three points on the board between the fifth and seventieth (or so) minute of the second half tells you much about the quality of Quins' performance. Unfortunately, it was not uniformly good. Although Jarvis kicked the team back into the game, he also missed three penalties that - had they been taken - would have won the game for us. But he cannot be blamed for the defeat. Only the team that failed to punch through Saracens' defence can.

Jarvis prepares to kick one of his successful penalties

Apart from Harlequins strong defending, praise must be given once more to Andy Gommarsall for his rallying of the team even after the two early tries and of the crowd. And well done to the crowd for rallying to him. It was good to see England legend Richard Hill playing (for Saracens) tonight. It was his first outing since reconsruction surgery on his knees a while ago. Ever since the 2003 World Cup he has been plagued by injury, so let's hope he can stay out of injury trouble. Another player I saw for the first time was Andy Farrell, the Rugby League recruit who was brought into Union expressly to strengthen the England team. That was a year last September, whereupon he promptly injured himself for the whole season. Let's hope also that he continues to play and play well. Tonight, I must confess that I did not particularly notice them on the pitch.

Elsewhere, results did not go all Harlequins way. Last place team Worcester lost narrowly (14 - 16) to London Irish. Irish are now seventh in the table. Newcastle's (11th) game away to Gloucester (3rd) was postponed due to weather. Bath (8th) built upon their two wins over the Quins with an 18 - 16 win at home to Sale. The Lancastrians were not the only big team to lose tonight - Wasps (4th) lost away to Northampton (9th) 8 - 6. Both these results are very inconvenient to Harlequins as Bath and Northampton are teams that we will be battling to avoid relegation. Let's hope for a Gloucester win when they do finally play Newcastle.

Next Wednesday, Harlequins travel to Worcester. A defeat there would bring the team perilously close to a direct battle with the Warriors for the relegation spot. Dean Richards probably doesn't have much time between now and then to impress this on the players, but he must work on those basic errors that keep letting the side down. If he can, the match is already sown up. If he doesn't, well, Harlequin fans will be sweating in the cold.

PA man Mad Max at half time, wishing Jesus of Nazareth a happy birthday
(yes he did say that and it was very funny)

For Rome

It is with not a little pleasure that I can say that I am now a member of the Recusant Cricket Club. I shall be posting there under the title 'Per Roma' or 'perroma' as it comes up (dúnadan being already in use, alas). In fact, I have just completed my first post, on Brian Ashton, the new England rugby head coach (phew!). The RCC is run on Word Press, so it may be one or two posts before I get my bearings; however, I hope you will take the time to have a look at the post (and the other, better, ones by the other members). My thanks go to the Captain and other members for having me.

The Vatican Calcio First XI

So, further to yesterday's post on Cardinal Bertone wanting to put out a Vatican XI in Seria A, if His Emminence is serious about this idea, he will have to have a few chants for the fans. Luckily, a colleague and I spent a few minutes thinking about this today when we should have been working. Here are our suggestions:

"You're going home in a papal ambulance."
"You're a Proddy and you know you are."
"The referee's a sinner, the referee's a sinner."
"Living it up, walking in a papal wonderland."
"Who ate all the bread?"
"I'm forever blowing candles (out)."

Cardinal Bertone reckons that with a few Brazilian seminarians, the Vatican would be on its way to forming a good team. He would probably be right. Don't let them be Traditionalists, though, their penchant for facing east would be sure to limit attacking options.

The Beautiful Faith

What is the Pope up to? The answer comes courtesy of BBC On Line.

Top cardinal dreams of Vatican FC

A senior Roman Catholic cardinal says he hopes the Vatican may one day field a football team good enough to compete with Italy's top sides.
Secretary of State Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone envisaged a team that might challenge famous Serie A clubs like Roma, Inter Milan and Sampdoria.
He said the Church's seminaries and Catholic youth clubs around Italy were full of talented footballers.
He said they would gladly pull on the Vatican's yellow-and-white colours.

Timely intervention

There are some very serious football fans in the Vatican, and Cardinal Bertone is one of them.
He is a diehard Juventus supporter and, while Archbishop of Genoa, often commentated on Sampdoria games for local TV.
"I do not preclude the possibility that the Vatican, in the future, could put together a football team of great value, that could play on the same level as Roma, Inter Milan and Sampdoria," he said.
In a football league that has been mired in corruption and controversy, this is perhaps a timely intervention.
Any doubts about the skills at the Vatican's disposal could be answered by some very talented Brazilians studying to become priests at the Church's universities, seminaries and youth clubs.
And if football's success is dependent on money and supporters, then the Vatican is unlikely to struggle.
There are really only two questions that need to be answered about this future Vatican team.
The first is whether it should really be competing in the domestic league - it is, after all, the world's smallest state.
And then, of course, there is the football calendar. There might be some difficulty in fielding a team on a Sunday.

A biretta tip to Father Ray Blake for the 'football' image (visit his blog to get the real story behind the ball-ble).

Quins play well but give the game away

Bath Rugby 20 Harlequins 14

So, for the second time in as many weeks, Harlequins were beaten by Bath. In last week's report, I said that if Harlequins started this game well, they would win. We didn't and we didn't. In fact, it was a horrible start with the Quins conceding a try within minutes of kick off. The ironic thing is that the better team did not win this game. As with last week, Bath won not so much through great play of their own - they did not play well - but through Harlequin mistakes. Apart from those mistakes, what made this a frustrating game, however, was the fact that by and large, Quins played good attacking rugby. In fact, for most of the first and second halves, we were camped in the Bath half of the pitch. Despite this, however, our only try came at the death. Bath defended excellently and also benefitted from - guess what - Quins' mistakes and other refereeing decisions.

Harlequins train before the game

On Friday evening, the Bath Director of Rugby called for the fans to give the 'famous Rec roar' to intimidate their opponents. It didn't come. The only time the home supporters did get excited was whenever their team was attacking or when some of the Harlequins away support struck up song. About the latter, I have to commend them for they were very vocal. A well done has to go to the team for applauding them after the final whistle. While I am at it, I must say another well done to Quinssa for organising the Christmas Dinner at the pleasant Crown Inn on Bathwick Road (just up the way from my hotel, pleasingly enough). It was great to meet the Quins fans who had come by coach for the game.

Harlequins take a line out

Back to the game, as I remain unproficient in the ways of rugby playing I am not in a position to comment on the ins and outs of the players' performances. From where I was sitting (in the evocatively titled Kronenburg 1664 stand) it seemed like we did not succumb to any great howlers, although Adrian Jarvis did scuff a penalty. The defending was by-and-large pretty solid, except for the few occasions when it wasn't and, of course, Bath scored. As ever Andy Gommarsall encouraged and cajoled the players. He must have been doing well as I heard more than one comment hurled at him from Bath fans. Another person who seemed to energise the players was Andrew Merhtens who came on late into the game. Perhaps this was a case of an experienced head being able to give the team a new imputus. One player who was not so impressive, unfortunately, was Stuart Abbot. He was Harlequins' big summer signing (from Wasps) but has failed to shine so far. He was injured for a while, but we must be due a big game from him soon.

Before concluding, I would like to add something about Bath's ground - the Rec. It is situated right next to the Avon River. In fact, if the Kronie stand was ten or twenty feet back it would be in the river.

The Hamptons Stand (above) was quite interesting. As you can see, it consists of two tiers of corporate boxes and seating underneath. I am sure the corporates like it but I am not sure I would want to sit there. It just seems very low down. Amazingly, the Rec fits 9,500 people. It seemed a lot smaller. The club want to redevelop it by replacing the temporary stand opposite me (which is next to a field) and if for no other reason than its scenic location I hope they are able to do so. From a playing perspective, let's hope they don't do too good a job. The smallness of the ground precludes a really intimidating welcome such as the DoR called for.

Harlequins group hug

So, once more, back to the game. What next for Harlequins? Well, it's back to the business of the Premiership. Next Friday, they play Saracens at home. Then, just a few days later, on the 27th, its Worcester away (a game that your cub reporter will be attending). On New Year's Day, the team play Newcastle Falcons at the Stoop. Despite all the loses of late, I remain absolutely convinced that we can - and should - win all three. Only Saracens are above Harlequins in the league, and as they showed against Worcester a few weeks ago, they can throw games away when the opposition come at them. To win these games, Harlequins have got to believe in themselves. They have the talent to justify that self-belief, so let's hope it happens.

Bath and Back Again

Ah, to be home after a holiday. It is good. As mentioned in my previous post (underneath this one or here if you are reading this one by itself), I was in Bath to see the European Challenge Cup away match for Harlequins. More on that here. As for Bath itself, I am pleased to report that it was as beautiful as ever.

'Pon my arrival at Bath Spa railway station, I followed my little street map up past Bath Abbey, alongside the Avon River and over the beautiful Poulton Bridge. Here it is below. I am happy to say that it is the best bridge I have seen since the Ponte Vecchio in Florence; I think the key to making a bridge look good is to have shops on it.

Pultney Bridge

Past the Poulton Bridge I crossed a large roundabout called Laura Place and entered the broad and imposing Great Poulton Street. As can be seen below, it is lined by the Regency homes for which Bath is famous. Of course, it isn't the most famous location in Bath - more on that in a minute.

You may be able to see a blue thingummyjig which I ought to know the name for but don't. This is the Edgar Hotel where I stayed. For hotel read guesthouse. The Edgar is no frills but was ideal for me since I did not desire anything more than a comfortable bed and some breakfast in the morning.

As soon as I had put down my case, I headed back into the city for a lookaround. Unfortunately, the afternoon was wearing on so I had no time to go into Bath Abbey, the Roman baths or Pump Room. However, as the primary purpose of this trip was to see the Harlequins play, that wasn't so bad.

As everyone probably knows, the author Jane Austen lived in Bath for a while. So, during my wandering, I text messaged a friend who is a fellow Austenophile. She text messaged back and in her text mentioned the Jane Austen museum. Eager to see if it was open, I took a diversion to it on my way to the Assembly Rooms. To my great joy, the Austen museum was indeed open - albeit only for another half hour. Thus began a flighty tour of it that continued on Saturday morning when I went back for the talk. Poor Jane, though! She did not enjoy Bath much. Her father, the Reverend George Austen died not long after the family moved there. Deprived of his income, his widow and children had to move from property to property, always cheaper and towards the lower end of the social scale. Some of their 'friends' noticed this and deserted them. The Austens eventually left altogether and after a period in Southampton, settled in a place in Wiltshire called Chawton where Jane - who had stopped writing for a long time - began again in earnest.

From the JAMpot, I proceeded upwards to the Assembly Rooms. It is funny how things happen. My particular interest in seeing them was because I set a scene of my perennially unfinished novel there, so I wanted to take a few photographs for future reference. As a result of this, I am not conscious of saying to myself 'Now that I am in Bath, I must go there.'. I just went.

Another place I really wanted to see (which also has a scene in the book) is the Royal Crescent. It was by now, dark so I went back on Saturday morning to take these photographs.

Time was tight on Saturday morning as I was due to meet up with the travelling Harlequins who were coming on a coach organised by the supporters' club. More of that in the Quins post.

As for Bath, well, I took a few photos more but am afraid to say that everything happened so quickly I did no more than scratch the tourist surface of the place. Here is a photo, however, which not all tourists' collections will have: a photo of a nativity scene sponsored by The Knights of St Columba and the Samaritans. With so many counterfeit Christmasses being celebrated, it was good to get this practical reminder of what it is really about.

Happy Weekend to all

Last night I had a splendid evening with my workmates at our office Christmas dinner. This morning, in about 25 minutes, I shall be leaving London for Bath, where Harlequins are playing tomorrow. The last time I was in Bath was in 1997 after finishing my university finals. I can't wait to visit this beautiful city again. This means that the next post will either be on Sunday evening or later on Monday. Either way, I hope you have a happy evening and remember me at Final Score tomorrow!

The Inquisitive Cow on Astrology, Whigs and a troublesome Squirrel

dúnadan: It is night time over Dorset and once more, the inquisitive cow and I are sitting atop a hill overlooking the village of Little Wimple. In the distance are Hobbles Regis and Cuddly Bottom. But we aren't interested in the villages. Just like the last time we were here, our eyes are straining upwards towards the stars. Hallo Gerrie!
inq. cow: Good evening dúnadan!
dúnadan: So, why are we giving ourselves neckache, tonight?
inq. cow: Well, after researching the phenomenon of scintillation I have turned my attention to astrology.
dúnadan: I have to admit, I am a little surprised. Astrology is not really taken very seriously these days: not the kind of thing an inquisitive cow would be interested in.
inq. cow: Well, I would not be a very inquisitive cow if I was not interested in learning about lots of things! Whether I approve or believe in what I learn that is another matter. Astrology is a case in point.
dúnadan: So, what have you discovered?
inq. cow: Well, the origins of astrology lie in the far east. Of course, we do not know who the first person or people who looked upwards and said 'the stars can reveal our future' was, but the Babylonians take the credit for being the people from whom later versions of astrology developed. They were looking to the stars in the 1000s B.C.
dúnadan: Do you know where the word 'astrology' comes from?
inq. cow: Indeed I do! Hot on the hooves of studying a little Chinese, I have availed myself of Percy Pig's classical knowledge to learn ancient - Attic - Greek. The word comes from two words: αστρολογία and λόγος which mean "star" and "reason, statement".
dúnadan: We shall come back to Percy Pig and his brother in a moment, but first, the Advent season reminds me that astrology - or rather, astrologers - can be found in interesting places.
inq. cow: You refer to the wise men who came to see the baby Jesus.
dúnadan: That's right. The Catholic Church does not approve of astrology, but it is believed that the wise men were astrologers.
inq. cow: Interesting, but easily explainable. The Church does not approve of astrology because it is not needed. Perhaps God allowed it to the wise men to lead them to the truth.
dúnadan: Indeed. Before we move on, may I ask you your star sign?
inq. cow: Moo! I think you can guess - Taurus! Heh heh.

Jewish zodiac chart, dating from the 6th century AD

dúnadan: Hmm! So, Bertie Pig, then. There has been a sighting - but not in France.
inq. cow: On Monday, Percy was teaching me my declensions when Hinsley Postman delivered a post card from Dublin to him. It was from Bertie. He was blown off course by the wind and ended up in Ireland. He is currently raising the money to get back to Dorset by performing escape tricks!
dúnadan: Do you think think he will be back in time for Christmas?
inq. cow: Oh yes! He loves his family. I think that's why his escape attempts always fail.
dúnadan: Well, we shall see. Let's move on. A chance encounter with a book has lead you into a new line of interest - British politics.
inq. cow: I am not sure you can have an encounter with an inanimate object, can you?
dúnadan: Er... possibly not, no. I am just speaking casually.
inq. cow: Well, as long as you place your apostrophes in the right place!
dúnadan: I know, I know. At the end of a possessive, before the S when it is singular and after the S if it is plural and after the S of a proper name you are referring to a historical person!
inq. cow: Moo!
dúnadan: Let's talk turkey, or rather, politics. Who or what were the Whigs?
inq. cow: They were the political rivals of the Tories. Their name has its origin with the Scottish Covenanters of the 17th Century. When they wanted to urge their horses on, they would cry 'whiggam!'. I am indebted to the highland coo for this information although the Learned Owl disputes it. He says it comes from an insulting term for cattle drivers - 'whiggamores' - in the same period.
dúnadan: Were the Tories the early Conservative party?
inq. cow: No. At different times, the word 'Tory' has had different things. 'Tory' comes from the Gaelic tóraighe meaning one who is being pursued. The first tories were fighters during the various wars in the British isles in the middle of the 16th Century. They supported James II. Later on, it was applied to reactionaries. Later on still, it came a shorthoof title for the Conservative Party.
dúnadan: The famous writer, Dr Johnson was a Tory.
inq. cow: Indeed he was. Ah. My daddy loves Boswell's Life of Johnson. Yes, I well remember as a young calf seeing him shout out "Thier esse est aut percipi aut percipere"? I refute it THUS! And he would kick the nearest stone with his hoof. It was very funny, although mummy never thought so. Especially when he fell over and sprained his ankle.

dúnadan: Hmm! Very interesting But what was he referring to. Oh look, the stars on the northern horizon are twinkling wildly.

inq. cow: That is most unusual. Ah, here comes Randolph - the youngest of the Tercel Twins.
>sound of an eagle flapping his wings< hallo Randolph. We were just admiring the north stars.

Tercel Randolph: That is not the stars playing, I am afraid! It is Tecumseh Squirrel and his legion!
inq. cow: His legion!
tercel randolph: Indeed. He has a hundred red squirrels dressed up as Roman Soldiers! I think you ought to seek refuge while we deal with him.
jenny wren: Tweet! Not so quickly, Randolph! I don't think Tecumseh has war on his mind. Not tonight, anyway.
inq. cow: Hallo Jenny. What do you mean?
jenny wren: His soldiers are carrying a huge, huge Christmas Tree!
tercel randolph: Well, I don't trust him one bit!
inq. cow: I am very intrigued. Dúnadan, my inquisitiveness has got the better of me. I am going to have a word with our troublesome squirrel and see what he is about.
dúnadan: Of course. If you don't mind, I think I might go for the safety option. Is Tecumseh armed?
tercel randolph: With sticks and swords! Oh, look, here comes Rupert!
dúnadan: A bull!
inq. cow: Don't worry! He's my, well, friend. Good friend.
dúnadan: Good friend?! Gerrie, is he your bullfriend?!
inq. cow: We have to go! No time to lose!
dúnadan: Oh... and away they go. Well, reader, that was a surprising end to this week's interview. Come again next week to see what happened! Oh, yes, and perhaps Gerrie will explain her Latin and the dividing line!

read more interviews with the inquisitive cow here

Good for the soul

A commentator in the Berry and the Men comments section remarks on the books and mug behind Fr Nicholas and I. I share his positive sentiments. Speaking of the mug behind Fr Nicholas and Berrycat, here is the inscription on it:

Come fill me full with liquors sweet
For that is right when friends do meet
When friends do meet & liquor's plenty
Fill me again when I be empty.

Holy words.

Without even stamping out one fire...

Well, well, well. Premier Rugby is at loggerheads with the RFU again. Sorry, did I say again? I meant over something else. Ever eager to pick a fight with the RFU about something or anything, Premier Rugby has decided to take issue with the RFU over the running of the Heineken Cup. They aren't alone. The French premier league clubs have also taken on their own union over the number of games that the H.C. obliges their players to play. The full report is at BBC On Line, but irrespective of whose cause is right, this is how the latest dispute between Prem. Rugby and the RFU makes the former look:

A peacock

Mark McCafferty, Chief Exec of Premier Rugby

Sort it out guys!

Work and Play

At work today, I attempted to explain to Petrarch's Muse the ins and outs of the inquisitive cow interviews, particularly with reference to how Bertie Pig has an obsession with escaping from his pen. As I explained his latest escapade - sailing out to sea after tumbling over a waterfall in a barrel, Petrarch's looked at me and said, dúnadan, "Are you on drugs?!" Was probably a good job I never got on to Tecumsah Squirrel who is currently raising a legion somewhere in Dorset (see this Friday's inq. cow interview for more details).

After work, Petrarch's Muse and I repaired to the pub to wish the head of our civil service dept. goodbye: he is retiring after forty years of service in the met. police and C.S.. The fact that said head was buying everyone who appeared a drink was wholly incidental to our appearance. In fact, Mr. E (apologies to readers of Emma) , was a brilliant sport as he bought me two drinks. I even spoke to him as a friend. My office has lots of faults but friendliness is not one of them. I even spoke to the man who replaced R.E. as head of my dept (yes, they were both - in a way - heads) who was also friendly. I wonder if this would happen in a private company.

News From Twickenham

It is going to be a tense Christmas on and off the rugby pitch. As Harlequins line up against Saracens, Worcester and Newcastle in the Premiership, BBC On Line reports that Rob Andrew, 'the Rugby Football Union's (RFU) elite rugby director' (i.e. the man in charge of the players that you see on T.V. when England play) will be making a recommendation to the RFU management board a week today on who he thinks should be the next head coach/manager.

He knows, you know

Andrew, known universally as 'Squeeky' but by the dúnadan as a Young Fart, is keeping mum on who he thinks should replace Andy Robinson, but hopes that the said individual will be in place for the Six Nations tournament, which begins in February. According to the BBC report, the RFU may accept a short (someone to take England as far as the Rugby World Cup next September) if not a long term solution. This proves that although Andrew may know who he wants to be the next coach/manager, he isn't sure of getting him. If that man is Dean Richards, head honcho at Harlequins, this gives this Quins fan hope that the RFU has not offered Richards the right deal and so he may decline to cross the motorway from the Stoop to Twickers stadium.

As for Dean Richards, he also is keeping his cards close to his chest. From the Harlequins web site:

There's been a lot of talk about me and the vacant England head coach position, but a lot of it has been taken out of context I feel. There has been absolutely no dialogue between myself and the Rugby Football Union and my sole aim is to concentrate on the bread and butter which is NEC Harlequins.

I have never actively shown an interest in the job and from my point of view, I have never gone chasing anything. That said, obviously we are talking about a very coveted role; to coach your national team is everyone's dream and if an offer was to come my way then, yes, I would look at it.

It would, however, have to be a very good offer to tempt me away from Quins - I'm very happy here and have a job to do.

Berry and the Men

After Mass last night, Fr Nicholas and I repaired to my home to eat a little pasta. Yours truly was the cook and by the fact that I am writing 24 hours later shows that the meal was a great success. Fr Nicholas, on the other hand, has not blogged today, so hopefully he has just been too busy.

Apart from the pasta, we drank a lovely Italian wine from Brindisi in the south of bella Italia. The chief pleasure of the night, however, was not the food, or even the conversation, but the special guest appearance by a certain Berry, aka 'Berrydict'. Here is an exclusive shot of Fr. Nicholas and the papal cat!

And the dúnadan with the same infalliable moggie:

Thanks go to Fr. Nicholas for coming along and being nice about the food and to Berry for being such a good sport about the photographs. In fact, considering he is not always fond of strangers, he was very friendly towards his priest.

Jarvis saves Quins from a cleaning

Harlequins 18 Bath 24

Despite being at home and despite being a man up when one of Bath's team was sin-binned, Harlequins conceded a try and were thereafter constantly playing catch up in this European Challenge cup game. It was very disappointing and, in fact, if it were not for the sure foot of Adrian Jarvis, the Quins would have sunk without a trace - all 18 points came from penalties hit by him. Credit must be given to Bath. They are a team that is short of skill but came with the intention of winning, set about their task and achieved it. Come the return leg next saturday, they must now be favourites to score a European Challenge Cup double over Harlequins and pretty much secure their place in the next stage of the competition.

I will be travelling to Bath to attend that game, and will be doing so with a sense of hope. Why so? Well, up until the last seconds of the game, Bath were 18 - 19 ahead. Their last points came courtesy of a last gasp try. It is true they were constantly ahead (except for one brief spell) but they are no great shakes as a team. Their lead came not out of superiority in their team but via the deficiancies in our own. They are vulnerable and are open to be overcome by a determined Quins team. Can we do it? A poster at the Come All Within fanboard called Harlequins 'mentally fragile' this week. I think he is right. The team are, so if the next game starts well, we will get the win. If it doesn't, we're sunk.

I arrived at the Stoop at one pm today so that I could attend the committee meeting of the supporters' group, Quinssa, in the members bar (memo to self: suggest the free availability of beer at the next parish council meeting. It makes the proceedings go by far more quickly and equitably). The meeting was about half an hour and covered what had been achieved this year in terms of events, finance, coaches, mailing lists and such like. It was good to hear what Quinssa does.

The bonus was getting to meet the all knowledgeable man who runs the CAW board (he posts as 'the Prof') which was very exciting!. There were six committee members present today. At the start of the meeting, there were but six Quinssa members present, though this increased by a few as the meeting progressed. Among our number was a man who turns up for every game in a huge comedy hat, Harlequin coloured lycra shorts and shirt. He looks quite a sight.

On on the Quins!

SaNS: Scary Masses

or, my Catholic Life

Fear This

Talking about oddest experience reminds me of scariest ones. The scariest thing I have ever seen in a church took place at the London Oratory a few years ago. We were in the middle of Mass when a man, quite well built with a black leather jacket, strode up to the front of the church, shouting. He made it as far as the sanctuary rail where he was tackled by very brave ushers. It turned out he had come from Holy Trinity behind the Oratory where he had started tearing up their hymn books. After leaving Holy Trinity, their people had called the police and come after him. It was, an Oratorian later told me, the finest act of ecumenism seen between the two churches!

This memory reminds me of another. I was serving at St Andrew's one night and the Canon was midway through his homily when a man came up the aisle to the bottom of the sanctuary. I tried to remain as outwardly as nonchelant as possible, but kept a close eye on him in case he should come up the stairs into the sanctuary itself. The Canon, as might be expected, got a bit agitated and warned/advised the man that he should walk no further. But even as he spoke, the man just fell to his knees and started to pray. It was a tricky moment but eventually passed without further incident.

SaNS: Translating the Movements

or, my Catholic Life

Altar Writer

If I was asked for the oddest experience that I ever had in a church, I would have to admit that I was probably the cause of it. When I was invited to serve on the altar at St. Andrew's Cathedral in Dundee, I determined to sit down one Mass and jot down everything that the servers did. I wanted a complete written record that I could take away and study so that I would make no mistakes when my turn came. So, upon a sunday evening Mass, I took my seat near the front of the church and got jotting. I tried to do it discreetly, though unfortunately was not able to be discreet enough, for one of my friends who was in the choir (which sat at the front of the church in front of the pews) afterwards told me that she noticed a couple behind watching what I was doing and giving me looks!

Street Audio

When I bought my iPod last summer my intitial intention was to use it while running. But I also fancied that I would listen to it a fair bit on the way to and from work and on walks down the road. That idea was first nipped in the bud by the fact that I do my best creative thinking while on the road. More recently, iPod listening has become more rare by the fact that I rather like listening to the sounds of the street as I pass by. Car engines growling... motorbike engines meowing... dance music at the crossing and the skidding of tyres. If it is raining, there is the pitter-patter of the rainfall or lusty howl of the wind. Not all of these sounds are wholly pleasant ones, however, they are fascinating to the point where I just can't see the point in cutting oneself off from the world even to listen to a really good piece of music. Street audio: highly recommended.

Separated at Birth

Self serving, amoral, cash hunting individual... but enough of Ashley Cole, let's talk about the "upstanding" character of Bennett Holiday, played by Cashley's look-a-like, Jeffrey Wright, in the film Syriana!

Oh the joys of being a Man Utd fan six points clear at the top of the league.

The Inquisitive Cow on his hypomnemata, Platonic Idealism and la tour d'ivoire

dúnadan: Hallo! It's Friday and I have come to Dorset to visit the one and only inquisitive cow! Hallo Gerrie.

inq. cow: Hallo Mr. Dúnadan! Moo!
dúnadan: Now, Gerrie, it's a cold and grey day today - last week's snow quickly turned into this week's sleet and rain - but these are busy days here in central Dorset.
inq. cow: That's right. It's Advent audition time.
dúnadan: Your sense of the religious is still at a basic level, but animals still get involved in Christmas.
inq. cow: That's right. Opportunities for animals in plays are usually quite rare, but not at Christmas. We are much in demand in nativity plays all over the county!
dúnadan: Last week, Horace got a job as the bearer of the Holy Virgin down in Wareham. That reminds me of a joke. Gerrie, how do you know Jesus wasn't born in Devon?
inq. cow: I cannot imagine.
dúnadan: Because they couldn't find three wise men and a virgin!
inq. cow: Hm! I cannot really approve of Devon being used as the butts of jokes. Devonians aren't stupid!
dúnadan: Alright, with apologies to Devonians, let's move quickly on. As well as Horace, your mum and dad will be appearing at Dorchester's Royal Theatre as the dancing cows in the manger-! And yes, they will be dancing to 'Cheek-to-Cheek'. But wait for this, Learned Owl auditioned successfully for the role of star of Bethlehem! He'll have to carry a light bulb but he was very excited.
inq. cow: I only hope that he doesn't let his thirst for knowledge lead him to tell the three wise men that he is not in fact a star but probably a conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn.
dúnadan: Indeed. Last week, we referred to your notebook in which you draw snow crystals. Today, you have the book with you. On the cover is written "Hypomnemata". What does that mean?
inq. cow: That is what my notebook is. I have taken my inspiration from the Greeks of the Fourth century B.C. who began keeping self analytical notebooks. Please take a look.
dúnadan: Are you sure? Well, let's go. I quote:

Plato believed that the material world is only a reflection of a higher reality or truth. It is incredible to think that Farmer Bill's house, the barn or Wood is not the important thing. That, the Farmer Billness of the house or woodness of the Wood - its essence - is something quite distinct. This is not to say that the material world does not matter. It does when you are being milked and it does in truth! What Farmer Bill's house (etc) does is remind me of what is really real.

Gosh. That sounds deep.
inq. cow: What you read was Plato's Theory of Ideals. I have never really spent much time in his company before, but Platonic Idealism has certainly piqued my interest! This coming week, I hope to learn about his analogy of the divided line, so watch this space.
dúnadan: I have to admit, Gerrie, it doesn't sound very exciting, however, it is philosophy so will no doubt be very exciting indeed. I look forward to it. So, let's move on and talk not about philosophy abut philology. Gerrie, you have been delving into the meaning of words!

inq. cow: Well, phrases. Yes, I stepped out of my ivory tower and into the library, aka, the car park of the Green King public house where Jenny Wren's friend, Publican Wallace, took some time out to teach me about the origin of some popular phrases. We started with 'ivory tower'.
dúnadan: Is it mediaeval in origin?
inq. cow: Not at all. The term 'tower of ivory' is used in the King James Bible (Song of Solomon) but is not used in the more popular figurative sense until 1911. What happened in the meantime? Dúnadan, let me tell you a poem:

Et Vigny, plus secret,
Comme en sa tour d'ivoire, avant midi rentrait.
and Vigny, more discreet,
As if in his ivory tower, retired before noon.

That was written by Charles-Augustin Saint-Beuve in 1837. I suppose it took a very slow passage over the English channel!
dúnadan: Didn't Henry James write a book of the same name?
inq. cow: That is what Publican Wallace told me and a quick trip to his library (in the backroom of the bar if anyone wants to visit it) confirmed the truth of his statement.
dúnadan: Wallace keeps a library in his pub?
inq. cow: He is a most discerning publican.
dúnadan: I am very impressed! Well, Gerrie, we have come to the end of the interview. Thank you for your time. I forgot to ask, earlier, are you up for any auditions this week?
inq. cow: Mooo! If only, but I have been told that directors are worried I would only be interested in method acting. Being an inquisitive cow has its drawbacks.
dúnadan: Oh dear, well, I am sure things will work out in the end. In the meantime, cheerio till next week!
inq. cow: Mooooooo!

read more interviews with the inquisitive cow here

platonic idealism
Ivory Tower at Word Origins

SaNS: The Our What?

or my Catholic Life

A Penny for your Prayer Text

I once visited a Carmelite retreat centre in Glasgow. While there, a priest said Mass with and for me. Literally. It was just me and him in a little chapel-room. All went well until it came to reciting the Our Father. Then, my mind froze. I talked previously about embarrassing things that have happened to me in the sanctuary. This was definately the worst that has happened in the pews.

A Whinderful Man

to whinder. Verb. To achieve fame by means of absolutely no effort on the part of oneself. In order to do a whinder, one must be promoted (a) by friends (b) complete strangers to self. See also: whindering (v. the practise of doing a whinder) & whinderific (adj. to be a successful whinderer). According to tradition (a) above must be in the same profession as self while (b) may be fellow travellers.

SaNS: smoking in the sacristy

or, my Catholic Life

Altar Server Hi Jinx

When I lived in Dundee, I attended Mass at St. Andrew's Cathedral where I was on the altar server rota. I had some good times in the sanctuary. One Easter Vigil, I spilt a cupful (almost) of melted wax over myself and the floor. On another, my friend and I were caught on camera talking during communion at a Mass celebrating the long service of our M. C. He was not best pleased afterwards! On another occasion, I got myself banned (kind of) from being the thurifer by choking the choir to death as we processed out of the sacristy at the start of Mass. It was my friend's fault - the previous week, he had managed to swing the thuribul (i.e. incense burner) at 180 degrees. Well, if it was good enough for him, it was definately good enough me. So, I swung it and them some. Cue one big smoke cloud in the little passageway that should have set off the fire alarm! It was great fun. However, not without a cost because I was never invited to hold the thuribul again. The most nerve wracking thing about being an altar server was worrying about tripping over one's cassock. This was a big issue when leaving the sanctuary because it was quite high up - about 15 or 20 steps. Thankfully, however, I avoided that embarressment. The worst one that I ever saw was not so bad - a dear old lady did the readings and forgot to stop so that after the gospel acclamation she dived straight into the gospel reading. Cue the priest who had to gently come forward and tap her on the shoulder in front of a packed church.

Singing A New Song

or, my Catholic Life

It's Never Too Late To Turn Back

I was received into the Catholic Church ten years ago this year - the best mistake I ever made and one I wish I could keep repeating, to paraphrase Maurice Baring. In that time, I have on three occasions come across people lying in the street: once in Dundee and twice in London. I mentioned the latest occasion a few weeks ago. On both the previous occasions, I walked by without immediately helping the men on the ground. However, I very quickly realised that what I was doing was wrong and so stopped and returned to see if I could help them.

In Dundee, the message that if I was serious about being a Catholic then I had to go to his aid took a couple of moments to break through the barrier between my heart and the man. I didn't want to stop for him - he was probably drunk, I didn't want to make a scene etc etc - but I made myself do so. In the end, he proved not to be dead nor too drunk to be able to pick himself up and so all was well. On the first occasion in London, the message broke through more quickly - after a few steps. If you can believe it, I was actually saying the Rosary to myself at the time. Can you imagine it? I passed by a guy lying in the street while saying my prayers. In the end, I thought to myself what do I think I'm doing? If this prayer does not lead me to help him then it is worthless. So, I went back and helped him as best I could.

I have a deep suspicion that when a non Christian is told that x is a Christian they assume that he is therefore perfect, or ought to be. When the reverse turns out to be true, the charge of hypocrisy is quickly levelled. But to be a Christian is not about being perfect, it is about realising that one is sinful and doing something about it. It is an good and enjoyable thing to ponder the glories of Catholicism, but we act badly if we don't recall the ways in which we have hurt our Lord. It would be good if salvation could be found through the cappa magna or baroque period art, but it isn't. It is the cross, always the cross. That makes for a challenging life but a rewarding one too, even if the road is a rocky one along the way.

The Hedgehog Song

BBC On-Line: Hedgehog Young Too Thin to Sleep

Hedgehogs born late due to warm weather have been spotted "drunkenly" walking around as they are unable to hibernate. Charities have been inundated with the babies from second litters which have not put on enough winter weight.
"People are ringing up saying they've found a hedgehog that looks drunk," said Hugh Warwick of the Hedgehog Preservation Society. "Hedgehogs are suffering from the early stages of hypothermia, they're beginning to shake and to wobble... If you find one keep it warm, feed it some cat food and put it into a cardboard box until it puts on some weight, then it can be released back into the wild to hibernate," advised Mr Warwick.

What shall we do with the drunken hedgehog?
What shall we do with the skinny hedgehog?
What shall we do with the drunken hedgehog?
Earl-y in the morning.

Give him some food and stick him in a cupboard,
Give him some food and stick him in a cupboard,
Give him some food and stick him in a cupboard,
Earl-y in the morning.

Hey-ho a fatty hedgehog!
Hey-ho a plumpy hedgehog!
Hey-ho a rotund hedgehog!
Earl-y in the morning'

Set him free and he'll hibernate,
Set him free and he'll hibernate,
Set him free and he'll hibernate.
All through this cold winter.

Hey-ho a sober hedgehog!
Hey-ho a happy hedgehog!
Hey-ho a well slept hedgehog!
Earl-y in the spring time

Berrydict and his owner

"Berrydict is doing what??"

"You told Benedict I was doing what??"

Berrydict meets the Anglicat and Turkeys

Forty years ago, Berrydict's predecessor of blessed memory, Purr VI, had made history when he became the first papal cat since the Reformation to meet the Archbishop of Caterbury, Michael Furrey. At the end of their historic meeting, Purr surprised the Archbishop by giving him his episcopal collar. At first, Michael Furrey was too surprised to appreciate what the papal cat was doing, when he realised, he burst into tears - very unusual for a cat.

As Berrydict waited in his owner's study for the present Archbishop of Caterbury to arrive, he wondered if he would wear the collar again. It would be a nice touch, he thought to himself, as we are rather short of things to unite us these days. After a while, Berry grew bored of waiting for the Archbishop to arrive. So, he jumped onto the window sill of the study, and, before his owner could stop him, jumped onto the nearest wall and from there made his way through the Vatican and into St Peter's Square. Seeing Berrydict leave, Monsignor Catswein sighed deeply. He was due to fly out to the home of the Turkey's later that day and wanted as stress free a day as possible. So, leaving Catinal Furtone and Catinal Leclawda in the study, he sneaked through the study catflap and set off through the halls and corridors of the Apostolic Palace to find the papal cat.

It did not take him long as some journalists had spotted Berrydict heading for the piazza and had warned their colleagues who were now rushing from the study to the piazza to make sure that they got that all important photograph of his greeting Dr Williams.

At the door of St Peter's Basilica, Berrydict saw the Archbishop's car arrive. There were several in fact because the Anglicat had brought some of his colleagues with him. Also with him was Catinal Cormac Murphy O'Catty. When Berrydict saw Dr Williams jump out of the car ahead of his owner, he gulped for the Archbishop was huge! Just then, Monsignor Catswein caught up with him. "Georg, is he a cat or a bear?!" Berrydict said.
"He is a cat, of course!" Catswein replied, "Don't be fooled by his fur. He is just a very furry cat. I imagine he is quite skinny underneath." Berrydict chuckled.

"Your Furriness," Catinal O'Catty said, as the party came up to Berry, "May I introduce His Grace, Archbishop Williams."
"Hallo," Berrydict said, "it is a pleasure to meet you, Dr Williams."
"And it is pleasure to meet you too," the Archbishop replied, earnestly, "In a very real sense - notwithstanding the hundreds of miles between here and my actual home - I do feel as if I have almost come home. It is quite amazing how space and time can collapse in the face of the transcendant action of the Triune God."
"Umm... yes." Berrydict said, a little taken back by the length of the reply.
"Don't forget, he is a theologian." Monsignor Catswein whispered in his ear. Berrydict invited the Archbishop back to the study and his private cat basket. There, they had a meeting which was due to last fifteen minutes but went on for much longer.
"So, these are difficult days." Berrydict said, once everyone had gone. "Your Synod has been rather naughty, lately."
"Well, you say naughty, but I think some would argue that what we have seen has been a genuine outpouring of the spirit leading the Church of England on a brave new adventure in a hostile modern world..."
"Yes, well," interjected Berrydict (it was the only way he would get a word in), "I'm not sure that the Holy Spirit wants to drive our Churches apart."
"I'm glad you said that."
"You are?"
"Yes. After reading Dominus Iesus and your description of Protestant churches as not being churches in the proper sense I was worried that our dialogue might flounder when it was found that we no longer have a common language, or rather, theological vocabulary through which we might express ourselves."
"Hmm. I was just being polite, but anyway..." The conversation went on. Or rather, the Archbishop did. He was very interesting. Or, at least, used some interesting words. Berrydict picked up hermeneutic... rationality... liberating discourse... canonicality of the text (was that a real word, Berry asked himself) plus some good sounding foreign ones during a part of a conversation when Berrydict had asked the Archbishop how Leo, Fr Aiden Nichols's cat, was but which somehow turned onto a 'discussion' on Aristotle's idea of theoretical theology: mathematice, phusike and theologike. Eventually, and rather to Berrydict's relief, Catinal Apawse sneaked in.
"Berry, it's time to leave for the Turkeys!" he whispered, urgently.
"I can't leave now, I think the Archbishop is just getting to the point." Suddenly, he switched from Aristotle to Plato. "Ah. Maybe not..."
"I don't think he will notice if you go. Come on!"

Waiting for a particular intense moment of the Archbishop's soliliquey, Berrydict crept out of his cat basket and ran through the Catican to his offical car. From there, to visit some Turkeys! It was a surprisingly successful visit. Everyone had been saying how unfriendly the Turkeys would be after Berrydict's owner address in Regensburg. However, from the moment that he met the Prime Turkey, Mr Erdogan, at the airport (when the previous day he had said he would be unable to attend) all was well. There were protestors, of course, but they were few and hardly to be taken seriously. On the other hand, Berry got to visit the Blue Mosque - where he did not pur, contrary to what some journalists thought - and the Hagia Sophia museum which used to be both a mosque and church, though not at the same time, obviously. There was no time on the trip to go to a concert, but there was some light relief to be had, courtesy of - ironically enough - the Al-Cruella terrorist group that accused the papal cat of trying to start another crusade.

Monsignor Catswein prepares to inspect the Turkish police

The highlight of the trip, however, was Berrydict's meeting with the Ecumenical Catriarch of Constantinople, Catolomew. He had a beard even longer than the Archbishop of Caterbury's (and a very splendid and colourful hat) but thankfully spoke a bit more clearly. When Berrydict thanked him for this, Catolomew laughed. "It has taken us a thousand years to talk to each other again, may it be another thousand before we use any more words than is necessary!" Berry liked this and helped the Catriarch clean himself. In the end, however, he began to feel a little guilty at having left the Archbishop of Caterbury by himself and so with a fond farewell, left the Turkeys and returned to the Catican.

He need not have worried, however, for when he got back to his cat basket, the Archbishop was still talking. "... in summation, perhaps it is even the summum bonum, I would have to concede without hesitation or doubt that, well, er... actually I am not sure as I have rather forgotten what the question was! I am most awfully sorry."
"Oh dear!" Berrydict replied, "Well, never mind, would you like to come down to the cellars with me and chase a few mice?"
"Hmm... mice... Of mice, one could say, in accordance with the theology of St Thomas---"
"A yes or no will do," Berrydict replied, "in fact, I will race you down there!" And without giving the Archbishop time to respond, he shot away. Suddenly, Dr William's's competative streak was fired and he raced after Berrydict. As he did so, a little bell rang. Berrydict stopped.
"What was that?!"
"Oh," said the Archbishop, lifting the fur around his neck, "I thought I would wear the collar that Pope Purr gave to Michael Furrey. Unfortunately, they attached a bell to it"
"Humans!" Berrydict laughed. He unsheathed a claw and with one flick, he cut the bell off the collar. The Archbishop of Caterbury looked at him, startled. "The advantage of being the papal cat. If I say it goes, it goes. Now, let's race!" And so they did. And when the Archbishop won, Berrydict said it was because he let him. He could take being the papal cat a bit too far sometimes.

read more Berrydict stories here
who is berrydict?

Catholic Paper Review

Some interesting articles in this week's Catholic Herald and Tablet. The Tablet has an article on the poetry of Elizabethan Jesuit martyr, Fr Robert Southwell. Southwell spent six years up to 1595 ministering to persecuted Catholics in England until his capture and execution. The article discusses the imagery of Southwell's most famous poems The Burning Babe:

As I in hoary winter's night stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near,
A pretty babe all burning bright did in the air appear;
Who, scorched with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed
As though his floods should quench his flames which with his tears were fed.
"Alas," quoth he, "but newly born in fiery heats I fry.
Yet none approach to warm their hearts or feel my fire but I!
My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns,
Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scorns;
The fuel justice layeth on, and mercy blows the coals,
The metal in this furnace wrought are men's defiled souls,
For which, as now on fire I am to work them to their good,
So will I melt into a bath to wash them in my blood."
With this he vanished out of sight and swiftly shrunk away,
And straight I called unto mind that it was Christmas day.

Unfortunately, the article is not available on line except through subscription, but is well worth picking up a copy of the paper for. If I recall correctly, Robert Southwell was a distant relative of William Shakespeare and may even have written his pamphlet on the duty of poets to him: it was addressed to my good worthy cosen, master W. S. I have never found a copy of this pamphlet either on line or in the shops; perhaps someone else knows where it can be found?

A quick question: Does anyone know the proper pronunciation of Robert Southwell's surname? The obvious is south - well, but I can't but help feel that it should be su - thell.

Elsewhere in The Tablet there is an interesting article on St Francis Xavier who was born 500 years ago. The article, written by Fr Michael Holman, Provincial of the British Jesuits, does not go into the more controversial aspects of the Society of Jesuit's recent history but looks at how their work of evangelisation can be informed by Francis Xavier's example.

An amusing game to play when reading The Tablet is, of course, Spot The Theological Error. This week's copy did not disappoint. First up is the article on the Archbishop of Canterbury's visit to Rome, written by Tablet journalist Robert Mickens. Towards the end of his article, Mickens describes Rowan Williams's visit as 'bittersweet'.

Throughout the Archbishop of Canterbury's time in Rome both Anglicans and Roman Catholics displayed many visible signs of goodwill and expressions of hope... [but] with the uncertain future that surrounds the Anglican part of the Church and the knowledge of how that could damage relations with the Roman part, there was... a feeling of apprehension and sadness among many.

Get thee to a copy of Dominus Iesus, Mr Mickens.

The second error almost inevitably comes from the letters page where one reader calls on the Church to ordain women to the sacred ministry. This is the error. His reasoning is just comical.
The reader, an excitable chap/lady says that the issue of women's ordination,

... is an issue on which our celibate Magisterium, for the sake of the Church, must change its misogynist position. What truly valid theological reason is ther to support it?

Aside from any other, I have always considered that the fact that the Apostles were all men is one such reason, but the writer puts me right:

Yes, Jesus was a man and there were no women among his 12 - but that simply reflects the cultural position of women at that time, which Jesus no doubt had to conform to if his mission was to get off the ground.

Yes, dear reader, this is the same Jesus who told his fellow Jews that He was God's Son; the same Jesus who healed people on the sabbath day; the same Jesus who cleared out the money lenders from the Temple; the same Jesus who visited the home of sinners, who touched lepers and who generally did not have alot of time for authority when it stood against the way of his Father. There may be other arguments in favour of priestesses, but suggesting that Jesus was bound by culture in this respect when in every other he rejected every other that was not God's way does not cut the mustard.

A quick note on The Catholic Herald. It has a review of a book titled Simply Christianity by Anglican theologian N. T. Wright. The headline on the front page of the paper, no less, declares that Bishop Wright could be 'the new C. S. Lewis'. Hmm. That is a big claim to make and is hardly justified by the review. It is a very positive one, but this is the sum of its references to Lewis:

Simply Christianity is being compared to C. S. Lewis's Mere Christianity. There is rhetoric in the book, but it is not merely rhetorical. There is metaphor, but it is not merely metaphorical.

Every time I read this I keep thinking that the reviewer is actually having a go at Mere Christianity, but even if he isn't, I don't really think that the Herald was justified in making such a big deal of it.

Bowing out of the Anglo-Welsh Cup

Newcastle Falcons 21 Harlequins 18

This Saturday was a week off as far as Harlequins games are concerned. Yes, the team was playing, and yes, there was commentary on the internet radio, but the match was not a significant one. It was the Quins' third and final game in the Anglo-Welsh Cup. But having already lost to Sale and Llanelli Scarlets, Harlequins could not progress to the semi final of the tournament whatever the result. It was, therefore, a chance to rest members of the first team and give other members of the squad and reintroduce those who have now recovered from injury. This is exactly what happened. Twelve changes were made to the team that lost to Sale in the premiership last Friday night. Among the familiar names returning from injury was former All-Black, Andrew Mehrtens and future England hope Stuart Abbott. Alongside them were players who, I have to admit, I have never heard of, for example, Adam Thompstone and Aston Croall.

As it happens, I might have listened to the game had the BBC not been showing another game on television, that of Sale versus Llanelli. Since I do not have Sky TV, my opportunity to see other premiership teams on TV is limited, so I watched that game instead. So far as the Falcons - Quins game was concerned, I did keep in touch with it via ceefax and it was pleasing to see that although the game was lost, the team kept in touch with Newcastle.

Before the start of the Sale - Llanelli game, the Beeb showed England's quarter final game against Australia in the Dubai 7s. It was the first time I have seen a Sevens game. It was quite unusual to see so much space on a pitch. And as for the three or four man scrum. Hmm. Anyway, England won (we can still win!) and one of the tries was scored by Harlequins very own David Strettle. John Inverdale, the rugby playing presenter, rated him highly going so far as to say that he could well be the next big thing in rugger. Hurrah! Let's hope he is - with us.

Speaking of which, I received a letter from Leicester Tigers today. I will be attending their game v. the Quins next March. The letter informed me that Sky had decided to televise the game and so the kick off time would be a little later in the evening. I wonder if the reason why Sky has made this decision is because it will be Dean Richards first return to the club where he won so many trophies. Or, we hope so. This week, Martin Johnson (unsurprisingly) put himself out of the running to be the next England coach/manager, as did Richard Hill, the Director of Rugby for Bristol. Dean Richards, on the other hand, has said that if England approached him, he would listen to what they had to say. I have to admit, I have a bad feeling about this situation. I think he will be the next England head whatever. I can only hope, therefore, that England makes it appointment as late as possible so that Harlequins are not left looking for a new DoR during the season.

On on the Quins!

The Inquisitive Cow on Snowflakes, Advent and Quantum Physics

dúnadan: Hallo! This is Dorset calling. I am standing in the middle of a field on a cold and chilly day. The clouds are hanging low overhead and I think we could be in for some snow before too long. With me is, of course, our friend the inquisitive cow. Hallo cow!

inq. cow: Hallo the dúnadan!
dúnadan: Now, Gerrie, let's talk about snow. Do you get it and what do you do if so?
inq. cow: Yes we do and the more immature among us have snow fights while the more mature - like me - go forth with our magnifying glasses to study their beautiful construction.
dúnadan: You even draw pictures, don't you.
inq. cow: That is correct. I have several pages of the most beautiful snow crystals in my notebook.
dúnadan: It is my understanding that snow forms when it is so cold that raindrops freeze. Is this correct?
inq. cow: Ah, no, it isn't, but you would be surprised as to how widely this is believed. Why, even the Learned Owl thought that that was the case, until he sent the Learning Owlet up into the clouds to find out what really happened.
dúnadan: Oh, the poor thing. He must have got very wet.
inq. cow: And he was hardly ten weeks old at the time. In fact, after falling out of the nest two weeks earlier, it was practically the first time he had been able to fly! However, being a very brave learning owlet, he completed his task, and he reported back to his pushy father that in actual fact, when raindrops freeze, they become sleet. Snow is formed when water vapour freezes in the cloud.
dúnadan: No wonder no two snowflake is alike.
inq.cow: But all are very beautiful! I should add, please don't tell Professor Mrs Learned Owl about her son's trip. She was teaching in Oxford at the time and would not be best pleased to know what her eccentric husband had got up to.
dúnadan: Yes, we know that she is rather more sensible than him. Someone who definately is not sensible is Bertie Pig. he has been up to his tricks again.
inq. cow: And I am afraid that I was a party to them.
dúnadan: In short, Bertie was dared to go over the Freshwater Steps Waterfall on the south coast of Dorset in a barrell. Well, yesterday, he did it, but instead of getting out of the barrel afterwards, he brought out an oar and started paddling!
inq. cow: And I designed and helped him make the oar so that it would be both strong and compact. I should really have seen what was coming, the silly pig.
dúnadan: Well, I wonder if he will make it to France. I imagine we will not have to wait long to find out. What else have you been up to this week?

inq. cow: Apart from keeping a low profile to avoid Bertie's mum?---! Well, Jenny Wren, the Learned Owl, Rudy and Betty and me have all been making an Advent calendar. Dúnadan, what does 'Advent' mean?
dúnadan: That's easy. It is Latin for 'coming'. It refers to the coming of Jesus.
inq. cow: At Christmas?
dúnadan: Yes.
inq. cow: Dear reader, I do not set myself up as a catachetical cow, however, what am I to do in the face of such ignorance!
dúnadan: Hey!
inq. cow: Malc, Advent - which you rightly say means 'to come' - actually looks forward to the second coming of Jesus Christ. Not His first.
dúnadan: What? Oh dear.
inq. cow: Don't worry! It is an easy mistake to make. Rudy thought the same.
dúnadan: Yes, but Rudy is a wooden reindeer. I think we better move on quickly. What kind of calendar are you making?
inq. cow: Well, being that we have no money, we are going to use nature's bounty. The frame will be made from twigs. The canvas dead leaves. The Nativity pictures from assorted matter: flowers, bark, mud, dirt and grass. Anything we can find. Horace is creating the actual picture. We are very fortunate that he is an impressionist not a realist.
dúnadan: It sounds very interesting. Can we see the calendar?
inq. cow: Oh, yes! But you would need to take a long walk through the Wood as we have erected each picture on a different tree.
dúnadan: That sounds wonderful.
inq. cow: Yes, it has been great fun. Considerably more fun than my other preoccupation this week, which has been to learn about quantum physics.
dúnadan: I don't even know what quantum means.
inq. cow: It is Latin again, for 'a discrete amount' or 'a portion'. Quantum physics refers to the study of subatomic particles. I am at a very early stage in my studies, but it is already clear to me that this is a highly controversial branch of physics. Why, I almost fell out this week with Mrs Bridlington over what is the meaning of quantum physics. She had come to visit Farmer Bill to collect her milk and while she was waiting we started talking about Mr Bridlington's war service. He was at Monte Cassino. Then we got on to Q.P. "Oh, I am for the Copenhagen Interpretation," she said, "Nothing else will do!"
dúnadan: What exactly is the Copenhagen Interpretation?
inq. cow: Well, there is this experiment which I shall call Schroedinger's Human Being. It involves placing a man in a box with a bottle of cyanide that is linked to a detector that is set to tell if an isolated electron in the box is spinning upwards and downwards - it may be doing either. If it is upwards, the detector releases the cyanide to the man's detriment. That would be unfortunate, but the big question is, what state was the man in between entering the box and his release or death. Apparently the answers can be paradoxical but I do not know why. Anyway, according to the Copenhagen Interpretation, the question is actually irrelevent but if it was to be asked it should be calculated.
dúnadan: Crickey.
inq. cow: I expected better of Mrs Bridlington. She attends all the charity events in the village, but she maintains that by asking the question and taking a look at the man, you affect the electron, thus - I suppose - compramising the experiment.
dúnadan: It would appear that she is saying that thought can influence matter.
inq. cow: The scientist Nikolas Tesla would approve. He proposed that a thought could be recorded in a machine and viewed via an artificial nerve.
dúnadan: What is your theory of the meaning of quantum physics?
inq. cow: Well, I am rather fond of the Many Worlds Intepretation. For reasons beyond my cow ken, MWI proposes that new universes are constantly being split off from us. Just think, in the half hour that we have been talking, many, many universes have been created!
dúnadan: So, there will be universes where instead of talking about snow, we may have started on a different subject?
inq. cow: Indeed. Earlier this week, the Woodland Theatre Group put on its first Advent play: Peter Pan. The Robins loved it so much that they have taken to dressing up as pirates and calling themselves the Lost Robins! Now, they can be rather forward creatures at the best of times, so they have been making a proper nuisance of themselves now. In another universe they are not doing so. I wish I was there. It is embarrassing when you want to cross the stream and they demand that you walk the plank.
dúnadan: Heh heh! Well, quantaum physics is clearly something that we will have to come back to. In the meantime, Gerrie, I am freezing. Shall we call and end to the interview and go back to the barn?
inq. cow: Yes, let's. Oh look, it is starting to snow! Maybe we can stay out a while... dúnadan, come back!

read more interviews with the inquisitive cow here
meet Gerrie Cow's friends

More on Quantum Physics
On Snow

By a whingeing pom

It is not only because England have had a good day at the crease that I am writing this, but because I think it is true: being called a 'pom', or even a 'whingeing pom' is really not the same as being called a 'nigger' or 'paki'. Not by a long, long shot. However, according to The Times today, an English ExPat group in Australia thinks otherwise. This is not really a light hearted subject, but I think the matter would be easily resolved if British People Against Racial Discrimination lightened up by getting down to the pub and enjoying a good, honest pint (do they pull pints in Oz?) with their convict neighbours.

The Chair Speaks out on M Sarkozy, Harriet and the Nanny

This meeting is called to order

"The Chair would today like to record his debt to Mr. Iain Dale of his eponymously titled blog for the following video: the speeches of Lady Margaret Thatcher set to house music. It really is a wonder to behold:

"BBC On Line has profiled the man who will be the lovely Ségolène Royal's most likely opponent for the French Presidency next year. You will not be interested in his name as he won't win, and will most likely be found out during the election as a cad and a bounder, but for the record it is Nicolas Sarkozy.

"I am simply not worthy of your votes! Give them to Ségolène!"

"Still at BBC On Line, the Chair could only smile wryly (yes, chairs have lips) when he read the following headline: Minister in Moon talks with Nasa. What, ho! The Chair thought to himself, one of our Lords of Misrule is finally going to do the decent thing! Alas, it was not so. Apparantly, the Government has enough money from the loans-for-peerages scandal swishing about to send a proper astronaut to the moon. He will probably be American and Nasa will take our good, British money and ignore us like the American Government is wont to do.

"On a slightly more serious note, you can tell a politician wants something (i.e. votes) when they start saying things that they have never said before. Step forward Harriet Harman who has called for the Labour Party to put the family at the heart of its 'policy making'. Ms Harmon is, of course, a deputy leader candidate. Well! The Chair proposes that this committee congratulates Ms Harmon and invites her to get the warm clothes out as the family has been shivering away at the margins of Labour society for ten years now. STOP abortion. START privilaging families in tax laws. START helping those on sink estates. HELP young people in prison instead of leaving them to the tender mercy of other criminals.

"Nanny Cameron. Need the Chair say more?!

"Finally, The Chair would like to record his thanks to the Vice-Chair for stepping in for him during the last committee meeting. Yes, it is good to have a Vice-Chair, although, it is only the Chair himself who has the casting vote!"