Categories: uncategorized
Date: 24 October 2004 16:16:40
'Do you want an honest answer?'
(quizzical look from 14 yr old son)Yes, I suppose so...
It was GHASTLY. We had 'If I were a Butterfly,' (with actions!!!)
'Oh, right...' (Son raises eyebrows and goes about his business. He's not been near a church for several years, but knows exactly what I mean).
On reflection... oh let's be honest, I've no need to reflect, I've no doubt the above traumatic experience was a judgement on yours truly for having ventured anywhere near a church in the first place. We had a teeth-gritting trek up to the frozen wastes of the Midlands yesterday. I then passed a pleasant hour or five stuck in a freezing cold house awaiting the arrival of an aerial repair man, as said aerial had crashed down onto next door's roof during last week's gales and was threatening to slip and crush passers by. Meanwhile Mr M visits Mum intending to fix up more bits and pieces in her new flat. He ends up spending three hours going through sundry uimportant paperwork with her and emerges in a foul mood. I'm in an equally foul temper having spent the day filling the wheelie bin with rubbish and reading Christian Herald, Don Aslett's 'Is there life after housework?' and a battered copy of 'Jenning's Diary,' ( a relic of the halycon days of Mr M's boyhood.) And not even a cup of tea to keep me going. (We threw the kettle away, as Mrs M senior is convinced that the water supply is poisoned!)
I'll draw a veil over the return journey. Suffice it to say it involved an 100 mph dash in torential rain, and a 100 decibel marital 'disagreement,' due to my outrageous assertion that such dashes play havoc with my nervous system. Add to that the superb customer service skills of a certain well-known chain of service station cafes...not...and you have all the ingredients for a quick phone call to Relate come Monday morning.
Disaster is averted, mercifully by a superb evening out at our local Christian bookshop's fundraising dinner. Great food, and an even greater speaker. Mr M passed an agreeable time grilling a gentleman who works for the highways agency - thus displacing all that anger onto a harmless target. (The speaker suggested some interesting ways of letting one's anger out; which included taking up judo and jumping up and down on polystyrene). Myself, I prefer hurling mugs, or even better posting bottles into those giant recycling bins. ('I love the sound of breaking glass!').
I'm drifting comfortably this morning; vaguely comtemplating a lie-in,and enjoying the best that local radio can offer, when we're rudely interrupted by what sounds like a 100 decibel oversized dentist's drill wailing outside in the street. A fuming Mr M flings open the bedroom window and demands to know what the miserable, antisocial worms are up to. (in tones loud enough to waken those neighbours who haven't already been woken up by Mr DIY. (I listen to him with one ear, and with the other to our rector who's being interviewed on air on the tricky subject of 'apologising.') The noise stops and Mr M crawls back under the duvet. Tactful enquiries elicit the info that offending noise came from the pub opposite; apparently someone tried to break one of their doors down during the wee small hours. Ooops! Now, whilst I certainly don't equate the rector with the Almighty, if I were of a less liberal bent than I am atm (next month I might be something else entirely, mind you), I'd say, there was more than a sniff of a 'Godincidence here.'
By now I'm wide awake and reckon I might as well go to church anyway. Which brings us back to where we started. :(