Categories: uncategorized
Date: 09 March 2004 11:09:39
Well, I made it to church council. One eye on the clock, of course, as I had to leave at 9pm prompt to collect Tiddles from Scouts.
I always enjoy church council as the atmosphere amongst our members is always good, even when discussion becomes heated. There's all the usual ones there, of course. Every church council has them. There's the elderly fellow who wears a hearing aid and always either gets the wrong end of the stick, or comes in on the discussion with something that's already been thoroughly discussed. There's the middle aged lady who's so keen to be involved that she'll second any proposal no matter whether she understands the issue or not. (She seconded a proposal by the treasurer that the rest of us were still trying to fathom out!) There's the chap who has to do everything by the book, carries the minutes for the last ninety years meetings, always stands to address the committee (all twelve of us) and insists on referring everything to "Mr Chairman" rather than using the minister's first name like the rest of us do. And there's the younger troublemaker who tends to whisper occasionally to her neighbour, giggle or comment irreverently at the rather silly things that are inevitable in meetings such as this, and question things which could be done differently. Ah.. hold on... that's me!
I caused a stir by pointing out that the reason that people of my age didn't get more involved in church life was because of child care and other commitments. This they saw as fair enough, until I pointed out that if the church is a family, it should be providing surrogate grandparents who would sit with my boys watching a video or something while I cooked the church dinner, if they felt too old to do the actual cooking. They should be offering to babysit or employing childcare if they want me to go to evening meetings and represent our church instead of them. Provision for children ought to be considered at every point, even if we don't have many at the moment. Hmmmm.... a few dropped jaws as they realised I was right and struggled for the words to get themselves out of offering to babysit!
I discovered at this meeting that my title of worship leader has now elapsed. It is not with great sorrow or surprise seeing as I have very very rarely been called upon to fulfil that role. It never really took off in the Island churches. It was a bit frustrating to have given all that time and energy to the training, though, and to know that if I want to take it up again I have to retrain. As it is, we are setting up a worship committee. As a former worship leader and token "young" person, I have been invited to participate. My friend M then said "But we need a proper organist on the committee as well". Thanks for the vote of confidence, M!
The main issue of the evening, and the reason I particularly wanted to go, was that of Safeguarding. Typically it was one of the last items on the agenda. I glanced at the clock, remembering that I turn into a pumpkin on the stroke of nine. Ah, that was OK, it was only just after ten to nine. I settled down to listen to the discussion. I glanced again at the clock. Still OK, it was only a quarter to nine. Hmmmm... something not quite right here. As it slowly penetrated my brain that I was looking at a reflection of the clock, I leapt to my feet, rashly volunteered to be one of the two named persons on the policy, and flew out of the door to collect my own poor neglected child who was standing desolately at the door of the Scout hut.
We arrived home to find Grandad singing at the top of his voice (He's usually comatose by the time we get in). Within moments he and I were dancing round the lounge singing "Roll-a-bowl-a-ball a penny a pitch". Let me explain. We have a wonderful radio station here, which we can also pick up on television thanks to the wonders of Isle of Wight Cable. It's called "Angel Community Radio for the Maturer Listener". They play all the old songs and music from my father's youth, all with the original crackly vinyl records. We love it. The best bit is between the music, though. The presenters are all volunteers, untrained, total amateurs, and mostly over sixty. It's like visiting your grandma and sitting in her lounge while she natters to you from the kitchen where she's making a cup of tea in a china cup. A sample from last night:
Bert: Of course, I ought to remind you we've got a special night here on Angel Radio some time next week. It's for Vic's birthday. Yes, Vic has a birthday next week and we thought we'd celebrate with a special evening especially for him
Ethel: It's not actually on his birthday, though, is it? I think we ought to say that.
Bert: No, cos I think it's on Tuesday night. His birthday's Wednesday, isn't it? Or is it Sunday.
Ethel: I'm not sure. Is it Sunday? I thought it might be on Thursday. I know it's not Tueday.
Bert: Well, what is the date today?
Ethel: The eighth I think
Bert: And what date's his birthday?
Ethel: I don't know, I think it's on the Thursday
Bert: Well, if today's the eighth, what will it be on Thursday? Let's see... it's Monday today..... er... I think it'll be the eighteenth. Is his birthday on the eighteenth? No, I don't know either. Anyway, it's Vic's birthday next week, and one of the nights which isn't his birthday we'll be having a special programme of music to celebrate, so make sure you tune in. Tonight you've been listening to songs with a gardening theme because, well, just because the first song we picked had roses in it and we suddenly thought we could do gardening songs, so I hope you liked it.
I love living on the Isle of Wight.