Ceeeeelebrate Good Times - COME ON!!

Ok, admittedly I probably don't deserve any of this cake after a whole month of not blogging (something of which I am deeply ashamed) but this is to celebrate my 100th post. Yay!!

To celebrate, as well as uploading this cake, I thought I would make a list of all the challenges I have set myself over the past 100 posts regardless of whether or not I've actually achieved them. So here goes:

1) Glyn Reads

Ever the visionary, when I set up my blog, I decided to start not one, not two but three (oh yes that's right - three) different blogs. As well as the infamous "Confessions of an Innocent Man" which has been well read and loved by dozens all around the world (a statment which bore a certain degree of truth before Lucy Aitken-Read moved back to England and thus ended my internationally appreciated blog status), the eager and willing blog reader could also find the Glyn Harries anthology (containing all my finest works of sketches, poetry and other such writings) and then the Glyn Harries Book Review blog in which I would read a book and then give my opinions on said book before rating it. As such the blog reader, rather than having to read the book themselves, would simply read my review of the book and then would know what to think (this saves on the ghastly chore of formulating one's own opinion). Whilst both of these secondary blogs have not been updated as much as I had originally intended, it is the book review blog that has been the most resounding failure. With a total of two posts in which I reviewed Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis and Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code (both of which I'd read before setting the blog up and the last post being posted on the 16th April 2006) the idea soon fizzled into cyber oblivion. It would have perhaps worked better had the idea for a book review blog not coincided with the time in my life that I grew bored of reading books. So not the best of starts. Well...as you mean to go on.

2) Glynn Harris
My first challenge. I discovered a man who had taken my whole name and violated it beyond recognition. He worked as a golf instructor and tutored one of my, then, youth members. I set myself the challenge to meet this man and try to convince him that he was spelling it all wrong. Didn't happen. Didn't even come close. Didn't even start in fact. I made absolutely no attempt to get in touch with this man. I'd call it a failed attempt but there was no attempt. So I guess it's just a failed.

3) The Challenge!
Perhaps the finest moment in this blog's illustrious history. I set myself the challenge to have a lie published in a national paper. This I achieved when the nation believed that Condoleeza Rice's first name was aramaic for "love of the unknown" thanks largely to the Metro's letters page. Unfortunately, despite the success of this achievement, this challenge also, ultimately, ended in failure. Not satisfied with a mere mention in the letters page, I promised to keep going with the challenge. The challenge was going to be extended. I was going to have more. More lies. More publicity. More mischieviousnesses. Unfortunately, I realised that I had no tricks up my sleeve other than writing into the Metro letters page and promptly retired. If I'd left it alone, this could have been a brilliant success. But alas, once again my ambition far out-weighed my drive and I am left with another failure. Ho-hum.

4) Dirty Stinking Pedestrian

At last, success. On the 27th July 2006 I set myself the challenge that by 27th July 2007 I would be driving. Here is me in my Corsa as a symbol of my completion of said challenge:

(Note: For the sake of integrity, I should tell you that I am actually posing for this photo. The car was completely stationary and I was not, at the point that this photo was taken, doing anything that I could not have done one year ago - or indeed 15 years ago. You're just going to have to take my word for it - I can actually drive now).

5) Anday!

About the same time as promising to learn to drive, my friend Andy was spending his working hours commenting on other peoples blogs. These comments were usually abusive and attempted to derive something that resembled humour (Andy is, by my own admission, not funny). The most annoying thing is that old man Andy (if you're wandering how old, think of your own age and then add a few years) refused to set up his own blog so that others may comment on his life and musings. I therefore determined that I would make Sunday "Anday" and post a story about Andy every week so that the masses may know of his meanderings. This too was destined for failure. After two weekly posts in which I revealed a photo of Andy sleeping with his cat and regaled you all with the tale of Andy being caught naked with the cleaner, this feature (like so many before it) fell by the wayside. However, it wasn't a complete loss as Andy now has his very own blog which is really rather good and I would recommend it to anyone who is still reading this post (I'm guessing if you've got this far it's because you should be doing something more important and are looking for other ways to procrastinate - in that case, read Andy's blog).

6) Campaign to Boycott HMV!

Ummm, once again, it just didn't happen.

7) Procrastination Hall of Fame

Much like the Glyn Harries Book Reviews blog, the Procrastination Hall of Fame did not take off quite as well as I had hoped. After a single, solitary post the idea just kind of stopped dead. It's a shame because I'm still desperately in love with it. I just wasn't sure where to take it (how do you research and measure other people's procrastination?). Maybe one day I'll be inspired and driven to pick it up again and run with it (although that sounds worryingly like another failed challenge in the making) but in the mean time it just lies there, beautiful, expectant and lifeless.

So there you go. 100 posts and a rich tapestry of unachievements. I'm almost proud to have such a fine legacy of failed challenges and abandoned features. Maybe one day I'll come up with something that sticks.

Sorry it's been so long since I blogged. And sorry I've been so infrequent. August sees a Summer School and a holiday so it's shaping up to be another dry month blog-wise but I have a few new ideas up my sleeve come September (something to keep me regular as it were) so we'll see what happens.

Thanks for reading.

Before it's too Late.

Having noticed that I've only blogged thricely during this fair month of June, I thought I'd get a quick post in before July arrives.

The blog world seems to have dried up somewhat in recent weeks and months. Posts seem to be getting more and more sparse and bloggers seem less willing to share their tales and comments. I was sad to see Lloyd retire his weekly Thursday Thought as it seemed to poignantly reflect the decline in blog interest. Maybe it's the rising popularity of other web-based phenomenons such as Facebook. Maybe the novelty is wearing off. Maybe blogspot has just had its day.

Alternatively, maybe it's just me and my friends who are being lazy whilst the rest of the blogging world is alive and cyber-kicking.

Who knows?

In other news, I won an award for my blog. Yay! The coveted Mitchie Award for best blog post. Truly a great day for everyone here on the Confessions team and proof that it doesn't matter how pretentious it is to create your own awards, giving them out will always be well received. Thanks John.

Kiwi!

Possibly the saddest and most beautiful thing I have ever seen:

Now I Remember...

So last night I decided to finally get back with the programme and went and signed up for a couple of 21st century cyber necessities that I've been putting off for a while:

1) I joined facebook

2) I downloaded msn messenger

Facebook, obviously, is fairly new in the grand scheme of things but messenger is something that I don't think I've done since I was at uni. I know it's a really popular form of communication but I couldn't quite remember why I've been avoiding it for so long. Well now, at 10.45 the next morning, I remember exactly why I was so reluctant to jump on the bandwagon. Two pretty major reasons:

1) It is almost 11 o'clock. I've been in the office for a good couple of hours and all I've been doing is frantically chasing round all my facebook buddies who have added me to their friends lists and have left me messages and I've been catching up with people I haven't seen in donkey's years and I've been leaving them messages and inviting other people to add me as one of their friends and at the same time, I've been chatting to mates on msn and all the while I have got absolutely no work done. Now I am not the most productive person in the office at the best of times. Why you could put me in a room with nothing but a computer, a power drill and the andrex puppy and I'd still find the one thing to do that wasn't work. Throw facebook and msn into the mix and I'm pretty stuffed.

2) Then there's reason number 2 (and this is the big one). No sooner had I logged on to msn this morning than I got a message from a girl whose email address I didn't really recognise, asking me how I was. After a while it transpired that neither of us were totally convinced that we knew each other at all and she wasn't sure how my email address had gotten onto her account. So we typed back and forth for a while (trying to work out where we might have met) before things started getting a little weird. First of all, she was very concerned that I might be bored in my office and she wanted to know what she might be able to do to alleviate that bordom (this was coupled with a little yellow round face giving me a saucy wink). Well it was really nice of her to be so concerned but I assured her I wasn't particularly bored and actually had quite a bit to do. She then asked me if I was single. I stopped writing back at this point. Who the heck was this girl?! What kind of person says stuff like this to someone they're not sure they've ever even met? I decided to sign out before she started giving details of what it was exactly she wanted to do to me.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am staying well away from msn messenger from now on. I think I'll stick to forms of communication that don't involve me being pounced on by nymphomaniacs.

And the Rest!

So here's a video I made of the rest of our time at Wigley last weekend. Please bear in mind that:

a) This was my first attempt at editing anything and

b) Most of the footage I had of the weekend was from the music video (see last post) so a lot of it will be the same as the "Lollipop" music vid.

But other than that, I'm pretty pleased with it. Enjoy.

Mika Breaks Wigley!

Just got home from an awesome weekend spent in Wigley. Matt White, Matt Leeder, Christina, Michelle and I went to see Roland and Joan (Michelle's mum and dad) in their beautiful house up North (Christina took the opportunity to practice her Northern accent - it probably has to be heard to be believed). It was a really nice weekend and although weather conditions left many of our plans scuppered, we were still able to produce this work of absolute genius on the Sunday (credit to Matt L for his editing skills):

All in all, a pretty productive weekend methinks.

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!!

Hair Today, Long Tomorrow!

Look at my hair:

It has gotten big. And it's untidy. And it's messy. And that's very similar in meaning to the word untidy so probably didn't need to be said. I would like to do something with it (and as I listen carefully I can hear the distant sound of my mother whooping joyfully). The trouble is I don't know what to do with it. This is how my hair cycle currently works:

1) Get hair cropped short.

2) Grow hair long.

3) Don't know what to do with hair other than...

4) Get hair cropped short.

5) Grow hair long.

6) Don't know what to do with hair other than...

7) Get hair cropped short.

8) Grow hair long.

9) Am chastised by members of my corps for not having short and well kept hair in keeping with the traditions of the Salvation Army.

10) Shave hair off completely by way of protest.

11) Realise that doing exactly what they want you to do is a crap form of protest.

12) Grow hair long.

13) Don't know what to do with hair other than...

And so on and so forth (lather, rinse, repeat).

The thing is, I quite like it long. I just don't like it messy. And I certainly don't want to crop it.

So what do I do? I don't even know what my options are.

The "Make Matt Leeder Feel Loved" Campaign

If you're anything like me (and more people should be) you will have missed regular postings from Matt Leeder's blog as of late. And if you're like me (and if not, why not?) you will have wandered where he's beeen and why it is he's had so little to say. Well his latest post has revealed that Mr Leeder is feeling somewhat disillusioned by the fact that no one seems interested in his blog (which includes - among tons of other stuff - exciting and informative reviews about obscure musical artists). I think this is a shame and does not reflect the truth that people around the world (that may be generous but I'm gonna stick with it) love him and his blog.

So I am starting a campaign to get as many people to view and comment on Matt Leeder's blog as possible. Please consider this. Two comments a month (or whatever you can spare) is all that is needed to make Matt feel appreciated.

So go on - make a rockstar feel loved.

Ben Folds

So last night I went to see Ben Folds at Hammersmith Apollo. Now I'm ashamed to say it but it was my first ever concert. But what a way to start. It was flippin' awesome. The above photo shows two things:

1) How close we were to Ben Folds.

2) How rubbish my camera phone is.

I went with Matt White (my ticket was his and Christina's Christmas present to me), Simon White and Beth (Off-White) Hampbell. It was great. Highlights included:

1) Swapping life stories with Beth as we tried to keep the conversation going on the train (and also using the time to practice the horn section in Army - something that proved beneficial).

2) Singing the horn section in Army.

3) Listening to Simon White shouting at everyone.

4) Watching Matt try to intimidate someone twice his size with his "broad" irish accent (I should point out that this guy just came from the back and stood right in front of us - I should also point out that the Irish thing seemed to work).

5) Performing the YMCA amongst a crowd of Ben Folds fans so that Mike and AJ McCredie (who were also there but had seats) could try and spot me from the balcony AND THEN DISCOVERING THAT THEY WEREN'T EVEN LOOKING!!

So there we go. Ben Folds: Awesome

Awesome Pool Trick Shots!

24 Weekend

This is going to be awesome!

Shifting the Focus.

Last Sunday I felt really challenged. I'm not sure if it was the sermon on letting God move us into the future whilst protecting us from the past or if it was the visit of Richard and Heidie Bradbury talking about the Cikankata hospital in Zambia or if it was just wind or if it was a wild and crazy culmination of all 3 but I felt, coming into this new year, that I need to start thinking differently.

I am incredibly talented when it comes to thinking about myself. I don't want you to think that I'm just blowing my own trumpet here. It's true. I'm brilliant at it. Grade A. I could think about myself and my needs and my worries for days on end if I had to. And most of the time I don't even have to. I do it just because I can. I'm that good.

The problem is that when one becomes so unrestrainably competent at thinking of oneself, one tends to neglect the growing issue of others.

Others are not always easy to think about. For a start, others are not me. Others are... well, other. Others are not of me. Others are outside of me. Most others are not in the room. They are not in the building, town or country. Most others live in countries I have never been to and speak in languages I will never understand. I have not met, seen or had contact with the vast majority of others. And the others I have had contact with...well, they are still other...aren't they?

And then there's me. I spend a lot of time with me. Me tends to go with me wherever I go. I don't have to think very hard to think of me because there me is. I have a constant reminder of me - me.

And I have always hated that. I have been well aware that all my faults and all my fears and all my insecurities stem from my own self-centredness. I have been desperate to change - to shift the focus - to put others before myself. But thinking of myself is just...so easy.

I tend to gripe that I am not able to do enough for society. I have been with the Salvation Army all my life and have never worked in a soup kitchen or had a conversation with a man living on the streets or prayed with a prostitute. I've never done any of the things that I'm most proud of the Salvation Army for. And I moan that it's because I don't have the opportunity or that the Salvation Army isn't doing enough at Corps level or that no one is telling me how to help others.

The truth is, I don't do any of those things because I don't care enough.

Due to the extreme seriousness of this post, the blog's administrator would like to break it up with this quirky little cartoon:

Funny eh?

And on Sunday, I realised that it was time things changed. I need to spend more time actively and deliberately thinking of others by focussing on God.

I decided to start a savings account last week when the new iPhone was announced so that, come October (when the phone is released in Europe), I'll have enough money to buy it. And in the mean time, I'm sitting in Church on Sunday, wishing that I had the money/opportunity/time to go to Africa and do mission work. I'M SAVING UP £500 FOR AN I-PHONE!! WHO NEEDS AN I-PHONE!?!! Despite it's incredible multi-touchscreen capabilities, visual voicemail and state-of-the-art internet access (ah man, who am I kidding - everyone needs an iPhone - but it can wait).

So instead, I'm going to set up my savings account, save for a couple of years and then see what's available. And in the mean time, I'm going to do more. And I'm going to do that by putting other people first once in a while (who knows? It might turn into a habit).

So that's my new years resolution. To think less about me and more about others.

Writing a really long blog about myself probably wasn't the best of starts.

My Favourite Conversation of 2007 So Far!

Me: Hi Grandad. Happy new year.

Dad: You'll have to speak clearly for your Grandfather. His hearing's playing up.

Me: Oh. (To Grandad) Is that coz you've been partying all night?

Grandad: What!? Are my plants all right?

Classic!!

Happy Christmas!

Yaaaaay! One hour into Christmas and feeling lifted by the festive spirit. Just waiting up for santa as I type this and download the Ricky Gervais special seasonal podcast. Man I know how to celebrate the season.

Happy Christmas one and all.

H(acked-off) M(oney) V(ictim)!

HMV suck. I mean really suck. Yesterday I went to return my mum's Christmas present coz it wasn't right.

My mother is not an easy person to buy gifts for. Everyone else in my family is fairly easy. We've all found that an effective way of making sure that everyone else is well aware of what we like and dislike is to inflict our preferences onto others. Therefore, we will be made to watch whatever Dad wants to watch on TV while Lisa blasts John Williams music out of her bedroom to make us all aware that she's into her "classical" music as she laughs uncontrollably (and somewhat overwhelmingly) at her latest favourite comedy box set. Daniel will leave little room for doubt as to what he's into as his art work rapidly replaces the carpet and as he looks after his growing collection of strange DVDs that he has no interest in but were bought for him by his thoughtful older brother because I wanted to see them (to this day he has no idea why I bought him "The Royal Tenenbaums"). My mum, however, is a bit more selfless. Which makes it difficult when I'm wandering around HMV trying to find something she'd like. The thing is, she only really insists that we let her watch one thing on TV, and as HMV weren't selling the whole series 12 of the BBC 9 o'clock news, that didn't really help.

So I thought I'd give Lisa a ring (my sister is, conveniently, the same gender as my mother and so tends to be a little more tuned in to her wants and needs). She suggested the ER box set, series 7.

Perfect.

Thank you sis. Present bought.

A few days ago, however, I received an emergency voicemail on my phone from her to tell me that mum didn't have series 6 yet and if I were to present her with series 7 everything would get confused. So yesterday I went back to HMV with Matt to exchange my purchase. Now here is HMV ridiculousness #1: ER SERIES 6 COST £46!!!!! What is that?! How much are they expecting people to pay for one stinking series of one stinking drama programme type thingy!

I was not impressed. But it got worse. As me and Matt were looking through the box sets we noticed that there were getting more and more steep until we got to HMV ridiculousness #2: the box set for all the series of Kavanagh QC cost £199. Two hundred quid for a few measly episodes about some wiggy lawyer. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! And the really stupid thing is that there were only 5 series and only about 5 episodes in each series. And the really REALLY stupid thing is that each series only cost £15 when bought seperately. Matt did the maths and worked out that HMV were charging £75 for the DVDs and £125 for the box.

So I decided to simply get a refund for the box set and get my mum something else instead. Which brings me to HMV ridiculousness #3: HMV DON'T DO REFUNDS!!! They charge the earth for DVDs and then don't give you your money back when you've got the wrong one. I had to "exchange" it for a Gift Card.

So that's why HMV suck. And that's why I'm starting a campaign to boycott HMV (as soon as I've spent my £34 gift card).

Poker Night

It is soooo late.

And I'm losing.

Woo Hoo!

I passed my theory test. Although it may not seem that big a deal to many of you it's actually a massive relief. I was probably more worried about this one than my practical. Why? Because it's not uncommon for people to fail their practical. It happens all the time. There's no shame in it. But if I'd have failed my theory? Man would I have looked stupid.

So yes, I've passed and am well on task to meet my challenge to drive by the 27th of July. Just 7 months and 12 days to go.

I've got some way to go till I can legally get out on the roads but with my new qualification I am now officially authorized to sit in the passenger seat and tell other people how they should be driving.

I'm Not Sure What To Think

Since my last post concerning my likeness to Jonas Armstrong, it seems the children of Chelmsford have changed their mind. I have now had a couple of comparisons to "that guy from Narnia". After narrowing down the options and finding, to my relief, that they weren't referring to Mr Beaver, it turns out I bare a striking resemblance to Mr Tumnus the fawn.

Hmmm. Can't quite see it myself.

Looking Good in Green

Recently I've been going into schools and been getting a lot of comparisons to a certain forest dwelling outlaw. The first time it happened, I didn't really think too much of it but then it happened again and then again. Completely different classes. Completely different schools. And now even the teachers have joined in. According to the schools of Chelmsford, I am the spitting image of Robin Hood.

Maybe it's the beard.

At first I wasn't convinced. So I took a picture of myself striking a pose and actually I can kinda see what they mean. See what you think.

My First Crack at Ikea.

Last night I went with Matt L, Matt W and Christina to Ikea in Croydon to see Michelle (I want it noted that I had a lot of work to do last night and was only told that I would be spending 2 and a half hours journeying to and from Croydon after I was in the car).

It was my first time (in Ikea that is). I've heard stories and I've seen pictures but now my friends were taking me to enjoy it first hand.

It was great. The others took great delight in watching my face as I looked around the showrooms, drank lingonberry juice and tried my first Ikea meatballs. It really is as beautiful as they say. We bought draws and curtains for my bedroom and dreamed of owning Ikeaesque kitchens and lounges and offices (we even had a test-run office meeting).

All in all, despite having to wait till 12.30am to get in and finish off my PowerPoint presentation for this morning's lesson, it was great. I thank Sweden for great shopping and I thank God for great friends.

Blessed are the Absent-Minded for they will Leave their Inheritance on the Bus

Alright, alright so last week I lost my laptop. Let's talk about that. I still don't quite feel ready to joke about it mind you. However, it would seem that other people are. So here goes. Here's what happened to my laptop:

I don't know.

I woke up one morning and it was gone. I know I had it with me the previous night. I remember having it on the train. I remember taking it off the train. I remember taking it into the taxi with me. I remember taking it out of the taxi. I remember walking home with it. I remember getting back to the house and putting it down. I remember picking it up and taking it upstairs with me. And I remember going to sleep, safe in the knowledge that it was by my side. And while I stand firm in my conviction that I did all those things, the evidence would seem to suggest otherwise:

Clue #1: The laptop is not in the house. This would suggest that the laptop is not in the house.

Clue #2: Nothing else is missing and nothing in the house is broken. So I think we can rule out burglary.

Clue #3: The house currently looks like a showroom. With Andy and V trying to sell the house, they have removed many mounds of mess within which a laptop may be hidden. After upturning many tidy things, creating my own mounds of mess and then tidying up again, I think I can rule out the possibility that I put my laptop somewhere "safe".

Clue #4: To my knowledge, I have no history of sleepwalking. Some would call it clutching it at straws. I prefer to think of it as ruling out remote possibilities. But no, I'm fairly confidant that I didn't slip out the house with it whilst asleep and unconsciously leave it with an alley cat (although it was a full moon that night).

All this would seem to lead to two possible conclusions:

Conclusion #1: I left it on the train, taxi or in the street. Not likely.

Conclusion #2: The barrier between us and other worlds is weakening and everyday household items are slipping through small temporary worm-holes. This seems to be the stronger of the two possibilities.

I'm aware that it seems I'm adopting a certain reluctance to accept that I just left it but I can't believe that I would have left it anywhere with such mental vacancy so as to not realise until the following day. Or at least that's how I would be feeling were it not for a couple of other incidents this week that would seen to confirm that I am, in fact, slowly losing the plot:

On Friday I had my first ever lesson in the morning (yes - finally) and before I got to the school I spent some time scouting the area for shops, co-ops or garages where I could purchase some water (didn't want to lead a lesson parched now did I?). Finally I found some and merrily made my way to the school. When I got there, I went to the loo, left the loo, was taken to the classroom and realised that I had left my water (in more ways than one), in the toilet. I had to deliver two lessons back-to-back with a dry throat.

The second incident occurred yesterday. I was leading the cell group at Chelmsford Corps and so woke up and, suddenly aware of my newly found absent-mindedness, made sure that I had everything I needed with me. I needed my cell group notes and my bible. So I woke up, took them out of my bag and took them downstairs with me. Bible and cell notes - check. I had a shower, got out and got dressed, making sure that wherever I went, so did my stuff. Bible and cell notes - check. I walked downstairs carrying my cell notes and bible. I walked to the door with my cell notes and bible. I put my cell notes and bible on the side ever so briefly to put my coat and shoes on, making sure never to break eye contact with the cell notes and bible whilst doing so. I then picked up the cell notes and bible, making sure they were both there and I had a firm grasp of them both, opened the door and left the house with the cell notes and bible in hand. It was only when I was half way to the hall (i.e. at the point of no return) that I realised that the cell notes and bible that I had been carrying round the house with me and making sure I had on me at all times, were in fact my cell notes and diary. Yup. My diary. Completely different book. It wasn't all bad though. While I was unable to discuss Paul's teachings on community with the group, I was able to tell them what Jesus was up to on the 25th Septemeber 2006.

So I guess it's more than possible that I did, in fact, leave my laptop on the train, in the taxi or in the street. I just hope I recover from this newly acquired quirk before I lose anything else.

An Uninspired Blogger.

Recently I've been a bit slow on the ol' blogging front. I've got some good excuses. Wanna hear them? Ok:

1) My laptop was stolen. Some nasty, horrible, smelly little band of thieves (probably professionals) snuck into my room while I was asleep and took it from under my nose. Actually this probably isn't true but it sounds exciting and provokes more sympathy for yours truly than "I left my laptop in a taxi" which is probably what happened.

2) Work's getting busier. Recently I've only been able to blog from the office but that's been made trickier since I've been required to do some actual work. Tomorrow I have my very first lesson in a school (I'm talking about "What is a Christian" and "What a Christian Does" and "Belief in Action" and "The Good Work of the Salvation Army" and I have an hour) which is slightly scary but I'm glad to finally be getting going with it.

3) I lost my fingers in a game of scrabble that got slightly out of hand (no pun intended).

4) I was planning on writing a blog talking about why I haven't really been blogging with any regularity as of late but realised that I've done that before and again before that and then again before that and figured that people were probably tired of excuses and I should just leave it until I can think of something else to blog about ........

...

...

...

So that's why I haven't been blogging with any regularity as of late.

Applicants Required.

Looking for a new job? Want something fun and dangerous? Enjoy working with animals? You may be interested in this.

Kunskapsskolan - Don't ask me how you say that.

I've just had a teacher training session in which we were talking about the Swedish education system (specifically looking at Kunskapsskolan schools if you want to check it out). It's completely different to ours and sounds awesome. Basically, the kids get to pick the lessons they want to go to and construct their own timetable week by week. It's personalised learning to the extreme. It's incredible although I'm not sure that it would work over here.

The thing is, the guy telling us about it kept saying things like: "if we look at the Swedish model..." and "what the Swedish model shows us..."

I laughed.

I got strange looks.

My First Crack at Atheism.

After advice both for and against, I decided to buy Richard Dawkins latest book - The God Delusion. For those who don't know, Dawkins is a Darwinian scientist with a big thing against religion and the idea of God (hence the chirpy little title).

I was kind of cautious in buying this book. The main reason being that a few years ago I tried reading Steven Pinker's The Blank Slate and it almost destroyed me. It tried to scientifically explain how the body and mind doesn't require a soul in order to operate. I'd never come across this sort of thinking before and I felt my security in God slipping away (I don't think I even got past the first couple of chapters). Although this was scary, it also strengthened my resolve to not be so naive to the arguments of atheism (to this day, I still think of Pinker's book as my Everest). Whether I like it or not I'm going to have to face atheism sooner or later and when I do I need to be prepared.

Another reason for wanting to read the book is this: one thing that irritates me about a lot of atheist philosophers is that they paint an inaccurate portrait of God which makes it really easy to brush him aside. I don't think atheists actually realise what it is they don't believe in. They have a distorted view of Christianity and what it actually means to be a Christian (just because idiots persecute homosexuals in the name of Christianity, it doesn't make it Christian). And so they pick up on half truths and conveniently brush aside anything about the Christian faith that doesn't support their atheism.

The thing that really bugs me though is that Christians do exactly the same thing. We exaggerate and twist truths to "prove" that God's with us. The teenager who nods his head and says "I see your point but..." suddenly knew, according to the Christian leader who's telling the story later on, exactly what Christianity was about and was shaken to his very core, abandoning his prior beliefs and jumping on the Christian love train. The man who stops to hear the Salvation Army playing in the streets because he likes brass band music is suddenly proof that the gospel is reaching everyone in our community. The dying church who just had a couple of teenagers come in off the streets and sit at the back is suddenly experiencing the biggest revival since the Toronto blessing.

I have nothing against hope or optimism but when we exaggerate like this and ignore truths such as "the teenager was being polite", "the man likes brass music", and "the teenagers at the back were bored out of their brains" it's little wonder that atheists fail to take us seriously.

At the end of the day, when we look at the world around us and at a lot of Christian people and the kind of things that are happening in the name of God, there is actually a pretty strong case for atheism. And as long as we brush over all of these points and arguments as blasphemy and fail to take the case for atheism seriously, we look like we're running away from the truth we claim to be championing.

So this is why I'm going to hear Mr Dawkins out, I'm going to take his arguments seriously and I'm going to wrestle with them. And then, hopefully, when it comes to proclaiming the word of Jesus, I can rest assured that I am speaking the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.