My New Phone - Sexy But Useless!

Earlier this week, I got myself a new phone. It's very attractive. It's colourful, it's slim and holding it makes me ever so slightly happier.

The problem is that, like so much in this day and age, my sexy new phone, despite being aesthetically pleasing, doesn't have a great deal going on upstairs.

Let me explain.

For the past year, I have been using this phone. It has served me reasonably well for the past 13 or so months but last weekend, it decided to up and die on me. Bit by bit, it just collapsed. Imagine a mobile phone having a stroke - it was something like that. First of all, it was just the downwards button that didn't work. Slightly annoying but I could live with it. Then the cancel button stopped working so that if I were, for example, writing a text (I can hear all those that know me scoffing but let's just imagine), and I made a mistake, I was unable to correct that mistake and would therefore have to go back to the main phone screen and start again. Then, my phone entered new realms of weirdness by allowing me to receive calls and speak to the person on the other end without allowing me to hear them. I was having to answer the phone like this:

"Hello? Hi, I know you can hear me but I'm afraid I can't hear you. This is all one way over here. I'm not entirely sure what's going on. Just some new development in my cutting edge, state of the art mobile telephone. I can walk and speak to you, I just can't hear you. I know you might be trying to say stuff now but don't bother coz I'm just getting silence through the earpiece. Maybe these new fangled things require some special attachment to enable a two-way conversation. Who knows? Anyway, if you're still there, may I recommend you phone the house phone. The number is...."

After that, piece by piece and button by button, my phone just stopped working until Tuesday morning at 09.14 the screen went blank and my ailing phone passed on. So, after an extensive mourning period, I went out Tuesday afternoon and bought myself my new phone.

Now here's the problem (and I do hope you've stuck around long enough to read this because this is the important bit). Because my old phone has died and all my numbers were saved on the phone (and yes I know I should've saved them onto my SIM card - thank you for your hindsight), I have lost all my contact details. Which is why my good looking new phone is is not a great deal of use right now.

So I write this blog to ask a favour of you all. If you have my number and feel that I should have yours, please send me a text with your name in it so that I can build my contacts back up.

Thank you.

Have Passed Test - Now Will Someone Please Teach Me to Drive!?!

So about a week and a half ago, while I was skipping back and forth within my timeline, I passed my driving test. Woo hoo! I did pretty well. First attempt and I only got four minors (four measly minors). So I've been feeling pretty good as you might imagine. Having passed my test, my job (specifically the travelling from school to school bit) is going to be one heck of a lot easier. I won't have to rely on friends, family and colleagues to cart me around the place. I am now one step closer to independence. All I need now is a car. I have passed my test and all is well.

There's one slight problem though.

It turns out that I can't actually drive.

On Monday, I was at Straight Ahead (North East London Divisional Youth Chorus to all you salvos (some choir to everyone else)) practice in Romford. The deal was that I would make my way there with Paul Leverett (the awesome bassist of the cutting edge and convention defying band Electralyte to all you Christian rock band enthusiasts (some bloke that plays bass to everyone else)) and then I'd get to drive back. Excellent. It might seem pretty trivial to all you drivers but I'd never done that trip before and I was pretty excited about it. After the practice had finished, a small group of us decided to get something to eat and Christina and I were sent out to reserve the table. She said I could drive. Yesss.

I was eager to get out fairly soon as I didn't want an audience watching me ready to make their judgments on my newly recognised driving skills. So Christina and I left as soon as we could and got in the car. The car was facing the fence, next to Paul's (you remember - the bassist) car and needed a simple reverse maneuver to slide out and get out of the carpark. Easy right?

Yeah.

I thought so too.

I got in the car, positioned the chair, did all the safety and mirror checks and started the engine. So far, so good. Just as I was getting ready to move, another car was coming towards us from my right. I'd let them go. Nope. They were going to let me go. Ok. I had a bit of an audience now but that's ok. They could watch. Let them see how someone who only got four minors in their driving test does it. Christina was next to me to support me and see me through the process. She knew from experience that reversing was not yet my forte. But that's ok. This was going to be different. I now knew the key to reversing was to always remember to look out the back window and not to try and maneuver backwards with the solitary visual aid of my rearview mirror. As long as I did this and as long as I took it nice and slowly, I was going to be fine. I would just reverse out and be on my way. So I checked all my mirrors again, shifted in my seat, made sure I had a clear view of the back window and slowly lifted my foot off the clutch.

We lurched forward.

Apparently another key to reversing is to put the car into reverse. Who'd have thought?

Ok, so I'd made a bit of a mistake and the car that was waiting for me had seen it. But that was fine. Everyone does it at some point. So I laughed it off, put the car into reverse and tried again. By this point, a few people were starting to leave the hall and enter the carpark. My audience was expanding. Ok, so here we go again. Mirrors, shift, back window, car definitely in reverse, foot off clutch. Flippin' yesssss. We were going backwards. I'd have celebrated even more had I known that this was pretty much as good as it was going to get. Keeping my eyes carefully fixed behind me, I started to turn the car. This was going well. I was nowhere near the wall. I could make a smooth turn out and leave everyone feeling suitably impressed.

"STOP!!!"

I stopped. Apparently, despite my back end being very deliberately and carefully clear of any obstacles, my front end was worryingly close to Paul's car. Christina gently warned me that I was little close (the "STOP!!!" didn't come from Christina by the way. She is, without doubt, the best person to be in the car with when you're a new driver. I'm not sure where the "STOP!!!" came from). Paul, who had by this point joined the audience and was now quite keen, for obvious reasons, to take more of an active role in the proceedings, asked (surprisingly graciously) if it would be at all possible for me to position the car so that it wasn't actually touching his before I continued to swing into his back door. "No worries" Christina reassured me, "we'll just go forward a bit and get into a better position". So I went forward a bit. But I certainly did not feel in any way that I was in a better position. I was at a really odd angle, lodged somewhere between the fence and Paul's car. Reversing would send me back into the car. Foward and I'm in a fence. Christina suggested that I reverse the other way into an emptier part of the carpark and attempt to turn round there.

"You don't want to do that mate" Jon Mitson, suddenly appearing at my window, told me I had to reverse and then swing right. So I tried that. Great. Except now I was at the other end of Paul's car inbetween that and a brick wall. Brilliant. I reversed a bit but I was too close to the wall. I pulled forward a bit but I was too close to Paul's car. I reversed a bit, trying to go right. I went forward a bit, trying to go left. Back and right. Forward and left. Back. Forward. This is not going well. The audience I was so keen to avoid had grown to accomodate most members of the Salvation Army within the UK. Thousands of people were eagerly watching me as I Austin Powered my way out of the car park. Forward. Left. Back. Right. Everyone's watching. Oh crap. I'm starting to panic. Stop watching. Forward and left. Back and... yup! It's happened. I've forgotten which way I need to steer to go in the directon I want to go. I want to go that way. Is that left? Man, I can't even remember which way that way is. What if I turn the steering wheel this way? Nope. Going in the wrong direction. I'll try turning it the other way. HOW AM I STILL GOING IN THE WRONG DIRECTION!!!?! A commitee has now formed to discuss ways of getting me out of the car park. "Turn the wheel all the way round", "No - the other way", "Go forward", "Go back", "You're good, now you can go forward", "No don't you'll hit the car". STOP HELPING!!! Christina takes the steering wheel and does some weird kind of magic with it. Good, we're going in the right direction. Christina can steer. I'll just go back and forward. Back. Forward. Back. No that's forward again. The "Get the Moron Out of the Stinkin' Car Park" committee have now given up all hope of ever getting home and form a sub-committee to set up tents. Forward. Back. Forback. What?! Argh!!

So eventually I make a smooth turn out and leave everyone feeling suitably impressed. We pass Matt White who looks like he could do with sitting down and counting to ten before talking to me next (did I mention that it was his car?). So Christina and I get to Nando's but were too late to book a table so we all had to eat at Frankie and Benny's instead.

As we left and headed toward the car, I held the car key out to Matt in such a way so as to communicate that I didn't feel I deserved to drive the car home as had previously been agreed. I knew I'd have to insist despite all the pep talk the group would give me about getting back on the horse. I knew I would have to answer the concerned questions of "are you sure you don't want to give it a try?" by looking down at my feet and nodding my head humbly.

Well none of these things were spoken but I'm sure we were all thinking it as Matt quickly grabbed the key from my open palm and hopped in the driver's seat.

Hmm. Might be a bit too soon to start up my own chauffeuring business.

Back to the Future.

Ok so Mel was right. This whole going back in time thing was a stupid idea. There have been so many things that I've wanted to blog about which I haven't been able to because I'm in the past and then when it does get to the right point one week later, it's not such a big deal anymore. So this is me firing up the flux capacitor and travelling back to the 23rd May 2007.

It's good to be back.

This Time Last Week...Part 2

Wow. What a manic week! (Thanks John). I've had a really busy few days. And have so many stories...

(Seriously, this whole going back in time thing has flopped completely. I should have just blogged about ROOTS this time last week and been done with it - so that's what I'm going to do now)

Ok, so had a good time at ROOTS. Filled with foam fingers, big tents and, er, being in Southport. Some highlights of the weekend (in brief):

1) The music

2) The speaking

3) The dancing (I wasn't quite expecting this last one either but the rhythm got me)

I know I said I had so many stories but it's been a while now (even for someone who has gone back in time one week) and they're pretty long stories as well as numerous and I'm running out of time and quite frankly, despite the length and number, they're not overly interesting. So I'll spare you.

This time travelling has not worked out as planned.

This Time Last Week...Part 1.

Wow. What a manic week (should that sentence be finished with a question mark? It's more of an exclamation than a question but is that grammatically correct? The burden of my linguistic curiosities often weighs me down)./?/!

I've had a really busy few days. And I have so many stories. And, whilst I would quite like to do them justice, I am painfully aware that doing so could result in the boredom of many. So I have decided to set my blog back a week and spend a little time each day reflecting on the events of 7 days ago. So ladies and gentlemen, if you will permit me, allow me to take you back to Thursday 3rd May 2007 (following "permit me" directly with "allow me" seems strange. Should I have done that? Oh the questions):

I'm in the car with Matt Leeder on our way to ROOTS (I'm not sure why exactly but this always has to be spelt with capital letters) as we while away the miles talking, laughing at weird town names and working our way through a packet of Minstrels and some Haribo. Actually, looking at the time, that's not true. Scratch that.

I've just got in after having "delivered" some lessons on environmentalism at St Peter's school. I put the "delivered" in inverted commas as "delivered" probably isn't the best word to use. It was more like thinking about the lesson that I had planned whilst the four seperate year 7 classes entertained themselves with a variety of impromptu activities. Discussions of recycling, resource consumption and lifestyle choices soon gave way to the more important tasks of chatting, drawing, calling out film quotes ("my tiny nipples went to France") and experimenting with how long you can aggravate the class by spraying Lynx before someone hurls you out the window. I was reminded by one of the teachers afterwards that it's a rough school and that I shouldn't beat myself up about it but you can't help leaving things like that feeling like the worst teacher slash schoolsworker in the world (hmm, probably didn't need to spell out "slash"). I guess I just have to find better ways of engaging kids with such behavioural issues. One of the RE teachers gave me a few handy tips.

Anyway, time for ROOTS. I'm just finishing off the packing while I wait for Matt Leeder to come and pick me up. I should probably get some sweets for the journey. Hmm, wander what I'll get.

Terracotta Chinese Weeing Man.

This poem is dedicated to Andrew and Verity (Leonard) Hill for their brilliant but impotent gift:

Terracotta Chinese weeing man,
I look at you with your bowler hat and briefcase
And I ask “how can one so posh be oh so rude?”
You’re smart in part but also nude
Oh terracotta Chinese weeing man,
Will you wee for me?

How do you work terracotta Chinese weeing man?
We have tried and tried to fill you up
But over and over you disappoint.
Oh Andy and V do you like mocking me with stories of wee?
Oh terracotta Chinese weeing man,
Will you wee for me?

Terracotta Chinese weeing man,
If one should see such novelty at Southend Beach
We would surely call thee obscene.
But you are from China terracotta Chinese weeing man
So we label thee “CULTURE?”
Oh terracotta Chinese weeing man,
Will you wee for me?

Such look of surprise terracotta Chinese weeing man
It’s as if thee does not expect to wee
But why then surprise for you do not wee
No wee for thee nor me nor V
Andy you said he would work, you said he would wee
Oh terracotta Chinese weeing man,
Will you wee for me?

Terracotta Chinese weeing man,
You stand and stare and I despair
For you are naught but ornament to me
I will think of thee on the lavatory,
Doing what you could not be
Oh terracotta Chinese weeing man,
I will wee for thee.

Bummed Out at the End of an Awesome Day!

This is Glyn. Glyn is sad. You can tell because, when he's sad, he talks about himself in the third person (a kind of detachment thing I suppose). Glyn is bummed out because this evening he tried to do something that he hasn't done in a number of years - and he was unable to do it. He was never brilliant at the thing that he tried tonight when he did used to do it many years ago but he always assumed that when you knew how to do it, you'd always know and was therefore expecting to be able to do it - but he couldn't. It wasn't even that he was just rusty. He actually just could not do it. Whatever part of his brain had enabled him to do this thing in the past (for confidentiality reasons, Glyn is unable to disclose what that thing actually was) has gone completely now. Vanished. Removed completely from existence. Glyn might has well never have known how to do this thing. It was an extra sad time for Glyn because all of his friends, who had also tried the thing (and many of them had not done the thing for a number of years either) were really pleased at how well they all managed to do the thing. But it's a shame that Glyn feels this way at all because the rest of the day had been absolutely brilliant. In fact, when Glyn focusses on the day rather than the thing, I am suddenly much happier (see? back into first person). I've had an awesome day. A day involving picnics and frisbees and rounders and my first ever flip flops (thank you Chell) and friends and barbeques and home made burgers (thank you Roland) and getting lost and dancing and music and sitting out under the stars and Risk. So I guess it's not really appropriate for me to gripe about "the thing" when I've had such a great day. Maybe the above picture shouldn't be so morose then. It should have more colour. More life. More pizzazz. Something like this:

Procrastination Hall of Fame!

After many a thought about procrastination since I blogged about it last week, I have decided to set up a blog dedicated to the art of procrastination.

Actually, that's not entirely true. It was after reading John Mitch's blog in which he wrote his own eurovision song and I said it should be in the Procrastination Hall of Fame and then I thought, "hey, that's not a bad idea" and it was then that I decided to set up a blog dedicated to the art of procrastination (don't worry John, the song'll be in there).

So ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: The Procrastination Hall of Fame!

Needless to say that I really need to have something finished by tomorrow morning and will likely be up most of the night getting it done but there's a small part of me (albeit a very small part) that thinks it was worth it.

P.S. I also doubt it will last more than two posts (three tops).

Gotcha!

For all those who continue to be concerned for the whereabouts of my laptop, I think I may have found it:

I'm sure it's one of those anyway.

P.S. I have no idea what Shut Down Day's about (if pushed I'd guess it had something to do with shutting down something but what and why? These are questions that I cannot answer) but it seems we've missed it anyway.

How Rude?

This morning, during my driving lesson, a song came on the radio which got my instructor quite riled up. It's that one by Sandy Rivera (see above photo) about licking ice cream and lollipops and other such sexually explicit confectionary. It made him angry because his 5 year old daughter, who doesn't understand the connotations of what she's singing, often dances round the house belting out hearty renditions of the tune. It made me think of another couple of examples when innappropriate lyrics have been warbled by innocent voices.

I remember when I was a kid singing along (quite passionately) to "Girl I Want to Make You Sweat" by UB40. I'm not sure if I'd have been able to offer any suggestions, at the tender age of 10, as to what was making the poor girl cry but I certainly didn't clock the strong references to, what now seems to me, pretty forceful sex, bordering on rape. I had no idea. Even my grandparents would be subject to my sung tales of how I was going to push it, push it some more.

Another story that came to me was when I was in Manchester with Rhema Theatre Company and I stayed with a family one week while we were on mission. One evening the family invited me to join with them in a game of Playstation Karaoke. We got into pairs to play the duet game and I was teamed up with the family's 8 year old son. He chose for us to sing Maroon 5's This Love and I, not being wholly familiar with the song at the time (but knowing it was a good tune) was quite happy with this. The song started and I couldn't believe it. This 8 year old was happily and unwittingly singing about all the things that he does to keep his girlfriend satisfied and I, unsurprisingly, decided to opt out (I was unable to sing the rude lines because they were rude but was then unable to sing the rest for laughing). The father apologised and explained that his son, of course, had no idea what he was singing.

I guess this happens all the time in our current pop culture. I'm just not sure how to react to a child singing innuendos. Do you tell them not to sing it and then have to explain why? Or do you just let it slide because, as far as they're concerned, what's wrong with licking a lollipop?

I Sleep in Crust!!

I want the world to know that I have been living in Matt and Christina's spare room since December and I have not once changed my bed sheets. I am not proud of this but it's part of who I am and PEOPLE WILL NOT CHANGE ME!!!!

So to Matt White and Matt Leeder who are trying to blackmail me with this piece of information, it's not going to work. You can change your own darn sheets.

I'm happy for mine to look like this.

Procrastination:

(pro-crass-tin-ay-shun)
noun
1. the act of procrastinating; putting off or delaying or defering an action to a later time

noun
2. slowness as a consequence of not getting around to it

(pro-crass-tin-ate)
verb (used without object)
3. to defer action; delay: to procrastinate until an opportunity is lost.

verb (used with object)
4. to put off till another day or time; defer; delay.

verb (intr.)
5. to put off doing something, especially out of habitual carelessness or laziness.

verb (tr.)
6. to postpone or delay needlessly.

10 Interesting Facts About Procrastination

1) Procrastination derives from the latin procrastinare meaning "defer till the morning" - from pro meaning "forward" and crastinus meaning "belonging to tomorrow" (from cras meaning "tomorrow").

2) The word procrastinate was orignially coined in 1548 by Edward Hall in The Union of the Two Noble and Illustre Famelies of Lancestre and Yorke and was recorded as an English word for the first time in 1588.

3) "Procrastination" was dictionary.com's Word of the Day on August 17th 2002.

4) Here are some pictures of people procrastinating:

5) The physiological roots for procrastination are thought to come from the area of the brain called the prefrontal cortex which "acts as a filter by decreasing distracting stimuli from other brain regions. Damage or low activation in this area can reduce an individual's ability to filter out distracting stimuli, ultimately resulting in poorer organisation, a loss of attention and increased procrastination" (Wikipedia).

6) Paul Graham argues that not all procrastination is bad:

"There are three variants of procrastination, depending on what you do instead of working on something: you could work on (a) nothing, (b) something less important, or (c) something more important. That last type, I'd argue, is good procrastination."

7) Procrastination is thought to have more to do with anxiety than laziness.

8) Here is a good example of where procrastination can lead:

9) The internet is both the best friend and the worst enemy of the procrastinator.

10) 20% of the population identify themselves as chronic procrastinators.

Hmm. Interesting. I should probably get on with my report.

The Greatest Milkshake in the World!

Sunday night was one of the best youth fellowship evenings I've known for a while. Thanks to a moment of inspired genius from Christina White, we spent it making milkshakes. If you've ever been to Shakeaway then it was that kinda thing with the guys choosing what flavours they wanted from Twixes and Oreo Cookies and Skittles and fruit and then mixing it with milk and icecream to create awesome milkshake flavours (if, for whatever reason, you've never been to a Shakeaway, then get on it straight away - ignorance is no longer an excuse).

I was in charge of milkshake production (see above photo) and for those of you who want to make your own, I found this was the best way to do it:

For a pint of milkshake, fill a pint glass two thirds full with milk and put into liquidiser (blenders also work but not as well as the liquidiser). Then add three scoops of icecream (for thicker/creamier milkshakes then you can add more but this is the best amount to use for a good consistency if you're making milkshakes for a whole youth group and don't want to run out of icecream). Then add whatever you want to flavour your milkshake with (can be anything - sweets, chocolate and fruit are the most popular options but Shakeaway do a cucumber flavour milkshake and there's even a place in London that sells marmite flavoured shakes). Blend for about a minute and then pour. Magic.

It was all very nice and pleasant but then, I came up with the ultimate in milkshake flavouringness:

Barbeque Chicken Pizza Flavoured Milkshake.

It was awesome. We had a whole pint and between about 6 or 7 of us brave enough to give it a go, we managed to consume about a tenth of that. The tasting consisted of a brief sip, tasting the concoction, realising what we'd just done, scrunching our faces in disgust (those watching were way ahead of us on that one), stomping, flapping our arms, covering our mouths, making muffled "Hmmm! HMMMM!" noises, finally swallowing and then taking great pride in what we'd achieved.

Needless to say, it was a guy thing.

The Big List!

There seems to be a big fuss over bloglist positions these days. Everyone seems to have a different method. Andy Hill takes the alphabetical approach while Kirsty takes the week off to calculate blogging consistency ratios. Everyone else, it would seem, measure the worth of their own blog by how high up they appear on other people's blogrolls. As such, I may have caused some offence. I should clarify that I have no such system. People appear on my list simply by the order they were put on the list. The only exceptions are Kirsty and Becky (Wainthropp) as they were added as replacements for people who simply weren't blogging. So please don't read anything into it. It really doesn't mean anything.

They Call Me Jesus...

The past couple of weeks I have been going into one of the local schools in Chelmsford to lead some lessons on Easter. I was looking forward to these lessons. I had done some year 7 lessons on Christmas in this same school and I really enjoyed it. The kids were a lot of fun and asked some massive questions. I had no reason to suspect this would be any different.

I had 14 lessons booked. I had seven year 8 classes who I had never met and then the familiar year 7 groups made up the other half. Although any young class are usually excited to have a guest teacher in (the word soon spread that the bearded Christian guy throws out chocolate eggs at the end), I was especially pleased to be greeted by my year 7 friends with exclamations of "oh cool, it's him again" and "yesss, this lesson is going to be fun" (although, having said that, one conversation did go something more like this: Girl #1: "Oh look it's that man again" Girl#2: "What do you mean man?!" Girl #1: "Alright, it's that boy").

But then one of the kids said something weird:

"Cool. It's that guy who did the Christmas lessons. It's Jesus."

The name caught on.

By the end of the two weeks, I was unable to walk through the playground without being bombarded by shouts of "hey Jesus" and "look - it's Jesus" and the popular "got any eggs Jesus?".

My first reaction was to think about the extent to which I'd failed. I'm not supposed to be Jesus. Why aren't they taking Jesus more seriously? Why is Jesus just a funny nickname to these kids?

But then something occurred to me. Maybe I am supposed to be Jesus. Not in a "Carry On Calling Me Jesus and Come Follow Me" type Waco kind of way. But in a "I Might Be the Only Experience of Jesus Some of These Kids Get" kind of way.

Now I should make two things clear at this point:

Number 1: My nickname of Jesus probably had far more to do with the beard and long hair than my inspirational grace and compassion for mankind.

(Note: The picture above is of me and was drawn by one of the year 8 students. Cute when they're five. Not so much so when they're 13 and should be listening. Still, I appreciated the gesture. And if that's how I look I can kind of understand the Jesus thing)

Number 2: I was not encouraging (nor will I ever encourage) anyone to call me Jesus.

But it did make me think. What if I am the only representative of Jesus that some of these young people will ever encounter? That's a big responsibility. Essentially, I do have to be Jesus to them. I have to act as Jesus would have acted. I have to show them the character and grace and love that Jesus would have shown. I have to teach as Jesus would have taught (although I think I can do better - Jesus never had PowerPoint).

I have to be Jesus (or as close as I can get). My Jesus impersonation has always left much to be desired but I owe it to everyone I work with and for to try and be more Christlike.

Maybe there's nothing I can do about the nickname. But I can certainly try to live up to it.

Sad Day!

So today, I had to tell Helen (DYO for South Western Division of the Salvation Army) that I was unable to go to SWSCA (South Western School of Christian Arts) this year. I'm absolutely gutted because I loved it last year and have been looking forward to it since September.

So to all my SWSCA friends who read this blog, I'm truly sorry. I will miss you all and will be thinking of you.

Success!

I am currently lying in bed having acheived something that I haven't quite managed for some time...

I've finished a book.

Now this may not seem as intensely remarkable to many of you as it feels for me. I am sure that the vast majority of those reading this will be well read and bookishly advanced. Why, the very fact that you frequent this blog would suggest that your literary palette draws you to the finer and more exceptional examples of writing. And as such you are no doubt wandering why finishing a book is such a big deal. So let me explain.

I used to read a lot. I used to love reading. In fact I think it was my love for reading that encouraged me to read so much. But for the past few months (in fact probably since starting my current job) I've had a real issue with reading. I just haven't seemed able to really get stuck into a book and even if I have, I get distracted by another literary masterpiece before I get to finish the previous one. I just cannot seem to finish books anymore. It is most annoying. Here is a list of books I haven't finished recently:

Beyond Belief to Conviction (Josh McDowell), I.O.U. (Noreena Hertz), The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More (Roald Dahl), The God Delusion (Richard Dawkins), The Highway Code, Impro for Storytellers (Keith Johnstone), Desiring God (John Piper), The Struggle (Steve Gerali), Cafe Theology (Michael Lloyd), Show Them No Mercy (Stanley Gundry), The Other Side of the Good News (Larry Dixon), Darwin on Trial (Philip E. Johnson), Games for Actors and Non-Actors (Augusto Boal), Down Under (Bill Bryson) and Lift the Label (Westlake & Stansfield).

Needless to say, all this failure in book reading has been quite frustrating. Which is why I am so elated to be lying in bed next to a completely read copy of John Irving's The Fourth Hand. It's a good book. Not quite as good as some of his other works (A Prayer for Owen Meany is my favourite) but a good read nonetheless. I would recommend it.

Minisalvos!

You may or may not have heard of Minipops. You may have seen them but not known what they were called. On the other hand, you may not have.

Minipops are awesome. They basically consist of famous people drawn with but a few pixels (usually around about 30 high).

So for example, here is a Minipop of 50 Cent:

Here is a Minipop of the A-Team:

And here is a Minipop of the cast of Fawlty Towers:

Feeling inspired by such artistic genius, I decided to have a crack at my own. So ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, my very own Minipops of the models in the SP&S catalogue (or Minisalvos as I like to call them):

What do you think?

P.S. SP&S, for those who don't know, stands for Salvationist Publishing & Supplies and basically acts as the Salvation Army's shopping centre for all things good.

5 Things I'm Incredibly Grateful For:

Anyone who is particularly close to me (and especially my family) will know how difficult I find it to be genuine about anything and how I usually avoid saying what something or someone means to me. I don't know why but I just tend to run away from any kind of real emotion. But there are certain things in my life at the moment for which I am monumetally thankful for. And while I don't agree with communicating anything via the internet that you couldn't express in person (I also find texting particularly annoying), that is exactly what I'm going to do here. So please forgive my complete lack of integrity as I list 5 things that I am incredibly grateful for:

1) My Family. They never hear this but I thank God that I have been blessed with an awesome family: My Dad for his leadership, wisdom and support; my Mum for her grace and compassion; my little sister, Lisa for her spiritual maturity; and Daniel (my younger yet bigger brother) for his talent and his friendship.

2) The Whites. Also known as my family #2, Matt and Christina have allowed me into their home and given up their spare room (something that Christina is very excited about getting back once I leave) so that I have somewhere to call my own. I absolutely love living here and the past couple of months have been a lot of fun.

3) Friends. The past few months I have come to realise that I have some pretty awesome friends. Whether it's partying at old-man Andy's 30th birthday meal or hanging out round a bonfire with friends at Matt and Michelle's I have truly been blessed. I would name them all one by one but this post is already starting to sound like an album sleeve so I'll leave it at that.

4) Chelmsford Salvation Army. It's weird going to a Corps in which my parents aren't the leaders but I have been made to feel really welcome and catered for at Chelmsford SA. I must confess to being pretty wary at first but after the first couple of dinner invitations I came to realise that there's a great sense of community there and I'm becoming more and more proud to call it my church.

5) My Job. Although pretty scary sometimes and always challenging, I love my job. I love being able to meet young people and hang out with Christian teenagers as they tell me about their passions for their respective schools. It's been really inspiring and stretching and...uh...yeah - I love it.

So there you go. 5 things I'm incredibly grateful for.

The End.

Snow Pun Intended.

It's snowing really heavily. We're snowed in. We've got a large garden. But Matt won't come out and make a snowman with me. Boo Matt boo!!