BriFili Stating

Friday 13th January - The Fear

2012-01-13T23:33:00.000Z

It's official. I have an exam tomorrow morning and I have The Fear.

And yes, on a Saturday.

Saturday 7th January - Revision and Old Stuff

2012-01-07T15:10:00.002Z

Was looking through some old stuff to help with revision and came across this little nugget. I remember the task was that we had to write something on natural law in less than 60 words. Here's what I wrote:

One's nature is to be rational
said Catholic St Augustine
who was a Father of the Church
and original sin
And turning to Aquinas
who responded to God's law
in conjunction with his reason
and in the things he saw,
Leads to truly knowing God
without the aid of revelation
that we as human beings
are part of his creation.

Friday 6th January - On a post-dissertation high

2012-01-06T15:11:00.002Z

Also, ¡feliz día de los reyes magos!

Sunday 1st January - Celebrating New Year's Eve, the Spanish Way

2012-01-01T22:41:00.000Z

Manigong bagong taon to my family, propsero años to my Spanish friends, and a happy new year to the rest of you!

This sums up the relationship between siblings to a tee, methinks.

Mmm, paella.

She is so utterly adorable. Got me all broody she did.

12 different types of fruit for luck in the new year.

Getting ready with my 12 grapes. One for each chime at midnight. Apparently, one is supposed to chew and swallow each one before the next chime. A lot harder than I thought!

And once the grapes are all gone, time to down some champagne!

Mon frère: The other member of Jedward.

"Nothing to do now the fireworks are over."

Thursday 29th December - Da Vinci Exhibition and Portobello Market

2012-01-01T20:56:00.000Z

Arrived at the National Gallery before sunrise - Time to start queuing!

Look at the queue....

...

... It just kept on going.

Queued up for four hours, only to get a 5:30pm slot.

Five hours to kill, so I decided to go and visit some other exhibitions. After seeing Hokusai's "Great Wave" at the British Museum, I popped into the British Library and took a look at the illuminated manuscripts.

Yes, yes. No photos. But it's me. I can't help it.

I was inspired by what I saw. So much so that I bought myself a little gift. A wooden pen and ink set to be precise, ink blotter included! I then tried to acquire some gold leaf and vellum from my favourite art shop, but with no luck. Alas, the illuminating will have to wait.

The exhibition was amazing. Truly. Stayed in there for three hours and I can honestly say it was worth every minute. Also, being in the National Gallery after hours is a great feeling. Very "Night at the Museum"-esque.

Family at Christmas

2012-01-01T18:20:00.000Z

1. Skype is an amazing invention.

2. Cmd + Shift + 3 on Maximus is genius.

3. I love my cousins so much.

4. I terribly miss the Philippines.

He makes a mean Two-Face face.

My cousins - So cheeky, the lot of 'em.

Look at my brother - Behind bars.

He's such a fool.

Spinning around in the kitchen as he Skypes me on his iPad. As you do.

Saying "Good Morning (Afternoon)" - My Way

2012-01-01T17:32:00.000Z

So, we have a climbing frame outside our house. Naturally, I felt the need to have a wander about on it. At the last minute though, I thought I'd put the frame to good use - say Good Afternoon to my flatmate.

The note. Not just any note. This note was going to shine. It was going to be different from any other.

This was it. There was no turning back.

I clambered out and looked back. Had I forgotten something?

A tricky path but I was not deterred. I was adamant to complete my task.

Casually checking myself out.

The Climb.

It was a long way down, but it was ok. I had reached the halfway mark. I was close.

Edging closer I could see the end in sight.

Mission completed. The note had reached its destination.

I *may* have recycled the paper.

The result?

Unimpressed.

December Backlog

2012-01-01T14:58:00.000Z

The ginger beer glasses in the Union are brill.

Christmas Bop - Had the dancefloor to ourselves, it was that good.

My son, gave me a great Christmas present. A toolbox, filled with lots of little things that had come up in conversation i.e. my love for peppermint chocolate, and my obvious obsession with Lego.

My full title as a member of the College committee.

Beer for my tutor - check, free radio and cassette player - check, chips in a pub - check.

Mitchell's is a great little place in town. So trendy and everything is Scottish. The seats are upholstered with tweed and the lights are made of bottles.

Even the holders for cutlery have Scottish origins!

My College hoodie. Had to return it in the end as the design was wrong.

A shortened version of my title.

So I kind of lied in one of my last posts about my son's raisin string as being my last. My friend's mother didn't make her one before she left so I said I would. There's a devilstick (we're members of Juggling Soc), a guitar (she plays), a book (she binds books), a mountain complete with little stick climbers (she's a mountain climber) and a star.

About half of the books I used for my dissertation. I have to eventually bring them all back to the library....

Christmas-themed cupcakes from Bibi's.

The Vaughan Christmas Carol Service - Beautiful as usual.

Unplugged Sessions gig at the St Pancras Old Church.

Emily and the Woods.

Sam Brookes.

The Lego Christmas tree in St Pancras station.

Boy, do architects know how to party.

At my Gran's to celebrate her birthday.

As one would expect, there was rice, and lots of it.

This had my brother and I in tears. At first we thought our Gran had just wrapped her plant in tinsel, but in fact, the plant died so she just wrapped the bamboo stick that supported it in tinsel instead.

Found more old photos - This is my Gran as a nurse, on the rooftop of the Royal Marsden Hospital where she worked.

I don't know where this is, but I like it. It's got an ethereal feel to it.

Looking far too happy on the day after Princess Diana's death. Still, a lovely photo.

Loving the shirt.

Before (right) and after (left).

Then off to brave the crowds for a spot of Christmas shopping.

The only nice thing about Oxford Street at this time of year - the lights.

Took a cycle down by the canal. T'was a lovely crisp afternoon.

Ended up in Hyde Park.

After Midnight Mass - the best part of Christmas.

Opening presents in the morning - He couldn't wait.

I was given a wooden model as a gift. I had much fun sanding down the pieces to make sure the pieces slotted in perfectly.

No one else wanted to pop the cork off the Champagne, so I volunteered.

Cheers!

Oh yes, I meant to say, I've finished

2011-12-26T16:46:00.001Z

Sunday 25th December - Merry Christmas

2011-12-25T16:29:00.000Z

Inverted Christmas Tree

A new addition to the family this Christmas: Lego Man's son!

Snippet

2011-12-24T22:42:00.000Z

Precisely that, a snippet (page 7).

Saturday 24th December - University Christmas Carol Service

2011-12-24T00:42:00.000Z

Ok, so the Carol service was nearly two weeks ago, but I wanted to wait till the video had been uploaded so you could see just why I look forward to it every year. The video may not be the one from this year, but at least you can get a sense of how beautiful the whole thing is. I will miss it dearly.

Click here for video

I might actually just pop back to St Andrews every year once I've left....

Monday 12th December - St Nicholas

2011-12-12T17:01:00.000Z

We should all remember St Nicholas this Christmas because in 325AD he was put in jail for slapping Arius in the face at Nicaea. Who said saints are boring?

Sunday 11th December - Feeling Christmassy

2011-12-11T14:19:00.001Z

Hello there! At this exact moment in time I should be halfway through writing a paragraph on Denys Turner, writing on Denys the Carthusian, writing on silence in mystical theology. But I'm not. I'm here writing for you guys! Don't you just feel loved?

Anywho, you can probably sense from how I started this post that I'm buzzing ever so slightly. Yesterday I had the pleasure of having a Christmassy evening that left me not wanting to leave the Bubble. With good company, irrelevant yet engaging conversation (i.e. reminiscing about the toys and games of the 90s), and imbibition, a fun evening was had by all.

Someone pointed out that it was funny that all of us were wearing checked shirts.

Apparently my son "loves" the envelope I put his card in. The snowman is a reference to this video

I also gave my son his Raisin string. It may just look like a random bunch of objects but they all say something about him. The paintbrush is a reference to his creativity and his love for drawing (he "paints" on Photoshop hence the paintbrush). The keyring is an obvious allusion to his home away from home (he's a JSA student, returning to the States at the end of this semester). I chose this particular keyring because it has a Celtic cross on it and Celtic Christianity is his favourite topic in theology. The bourbon cream is purely because it's his favourite biscuit and he wishes they had them in America. It's personally my favourite bit of the string, probably because I enjoyed dashing around the house looking for cardboard to draw bourbon creams on. It also has the same design on the back, making it look good enough to eat from a distance. Last but not least is the Shy Guy from the Mario games. He likes his video games so I thought I'd include it on the string. And there we have it - my last ever Raisin string.

My friend seemed to like his talking bobblehead. I was so relieved by this because I didn't know anything about Star Trek when I was hunting for presents.

I made tiffin. It went down well ~~with Disaronno~~

In other news, a new blog by a dear friend of mine called Go away I'm writing! has come to my attention. It's worth following if only to make sure you read her stuff before she becomes a distinguished novelist. I'd like to think I'm plugging it because I'm a good friend an' all, but deep down it's probably only because the blog's named after the Christmas present I bought her. You all still love me really ... I think.

Also, sorry for the colours on the blog. I tried to switch to one of the new "dynamic views," but didn't really like the way readers could change how they viewed the page. Why would you want to do that? It's the same content but with a different design. Anyway, I didn't really get it so switched back, only to realise that I hadn't saved the old template *sigh*

Sorry, what?

2011-12-10T11:23:00.001Z

Click here

Saturday 10th December - Resting

2011-12-10T00:26:00.001Z

I'm looking forward to the end of the semester. Not only does it mean I'll have my dissertation finished, but also that I'll finally get a chance to rest.

The Christmas break is often considered a period where we spend ~~too much~~ time with family, spend our earnings on presents and stamps, and eat ourselves to an early grave. But I don't care much for all of that. What I'm looking forward to is not having to think about my next deadline for a while. Sure I have an exam (yes, that's right, just one) in January but I won't think about that till next year.

In other news, I've just figured out how to send photos from my phone to Maximus via bluetooth, so here are some photos from the last few days:

Who says theology students don't have a sense of humour?

We seem to also have a fascination with pipe cleaners. We even had them at our Freshers' Week Barbecue. And at our Ball come to think of it.

Dancing the night away in the only club in town

My new climbing frame - An early Christmas present from Santa

Wednesday 7th December - Dissertation Woes

2011-12-07T15:42:00.001Z

So I thought I had it bad with my dissertation, but then this popped up on my Facebook news feed yesterday:

Also, this is how I've been preparing for Christmas:

Pre-Advent

Advent

Sunday 4th December - Christmas Lantern Launch

2011-12-04T22:40:00.001Z

1. Watch Hard Candy

2. Go to sleep at silly o'clock (on the sofa, again) and undo the previous day's rest

3. Wake up, see that it's a beautifully sunny day outside then go back to sleep

4. Wake up (again), make a bacon sandwich, exchange chinky faces with brother and go back to sleep

4. Wake up, have a shower, brave the cold and go to the pier to release some Christmas lanterns

5. Lend gloves to a friend so my fingers go numb and purple, light lantern and allow it to grow into a great fireball, let it go and watch it fly into a group of screaming students

6. Relish in all the fire-fun

Yes that is me. I wasn't a fan of my face so gave myself a new one

The lantern trying to attack me. It should have looked like the one in the background

Saturday 3rd December - Pretending to be a Journalist

2011-12-02T23:41:00.001Z

So, yesterday I had another dissertation deadline. I've been silly enough to leave ~~all~~ most of my research and writing till the last month and a half of semester. It's mad. A 10,000 word dissertation should have a topic decided by September, with research progressing throughout, culminating in an eloquent and detailed "intellectual tantrum." Not for me though. I've had about a month to do all of that, with three or four all-nighters to get the actual dissertation done. I'm an idiot, I know. I'd like to tell you now that it's finished, but my attempt to complete my first draft of the whole thing failed. I needed to write 4,000 words for Friday. I managed most of it but it wasn't completely finished. I started on Thursday evening after watching a film (yes, I deserve every bit of exhaustion, pain and bad mark thrust upon me for procrastinating), and then finished at 3pm on Friday. It's quite a strange thing to watch it go from light to dark, to light, and then to dark again. I was getting so desperate I had to get the big guns out - Red Bull. It's disgusting but it kept me awake. So awake that my hands were shaking and I was babbling and laughing to myself like Rafiki.

If that wasn't bad enough, come Friday morning I thought it would be a good idea to embark on some journalistic adventures. I wrote an article on the Karen Armstrong lecture and sent it to a few contacts. With the recent publication of a new Theos report written by one of our own (Steve Holmes), I saw another opportunity to write a piece and get an "exclusive interview" if you can even call it that. So there I was planning what I was going to ask Steve, when I should have been writing about William of St Thierry's view of silence and whether he incorporates Evagrius of Pontus' concepts of apatheia and hesychia. I do love my life.

Student band "The OK Kids" supported Vetiver

You would think that after staying up for so long I'd rest, but no. After a two hour siesta I went out. Yes, that's right, I got up off the floor (I was so tired I just sort of fell off my chair and fell asleep) and went out into the dark night. Thanks to Music is Love I go out when I shouldn't. The band playing that evening was Vetiver. Dubbed as "American indie folk," I couldn't help but think the lead singer looked like Matt Cardle, which is a real shame. A sad reflection of the way glamourised bog-standard talent shows have brainwashed us. Anyway I really enjoyed myself. I've uploaded a video, and posted photos. What's a blog post if it doesn't include photos?

Vetiver were great. For just over an hour, I thought it was summer again

Thursday 1st December - Karen Armstrong on "The Point of Religion"

2011-11-29T20:08:00.001Z

Yesterday I attended a lecture given by Karen Armstrong called "The Point of Religion," as part of the University of St Andrews 600 Lecture Series.

[Click here for a shorter version of my piece on Independent Catholic News.]

I had initially planned to leave early to attend a meeting, but after she mentioned the need to recognise our "impotence of speech" and "finding meaning in the silence," I thought it might be worth staying.

Introduced by the Principal as a voice on ecumenical understanding who wants to make religion accessible, I was interested to see exactly what her point would be on religion. She began with how we talk about God / Nirvana / Dao, saying that St Thomas Aquinas would disagree with the definition that God is a supreme being, and went on to talk about how all religious language is symbolic (analogy etc.).

Following from this she spoke about the need for something more than what life can offer, she called it a "transcendence". (I should have stressed that the lecture was very much on religion and not theology. She quoted the Qur'an, spoke about Buddhism, and even told a short story about Brahman to illustrate her point about silence.) She was saying that if people don't believe in God / transcendence, they end up looking for meaning elsewhere, like in sex, music, drugs etc. They yearn for this transcendence but look for it in all the wrong places.

The best model for religion, according to Armstrong, is the Brahmodya competition. Practised by Brahmin priests in the 10th century, it involved spiritual exercises like fasting and meditative breathing, with questions afterwards. The goal of these questions was to come up with formulations to describe Brahman. One priest would come up with a definition and another would try and build on it. The one who won though was the priest who reduced the others to silence, emphasising the "impotence of speech". Referring back to transcendence, she said that religion should push us forward towards it. However this is not accomplished through attempts to explain the mysterious, but through the silence. "Like the end of a symphony when the last notes die out ... the silence that is very full and pregnant before the applause." For Armstrong, "Very good theology wants to live in the silence."

She went on to say that we in the West had lost our sense of "myth," defining it as "essentially a program of action." Reiterating her point, Armstrong stressed that religion is a practical discipline, but sadly it has evolved into something else: a watered down version of what it means to be religious. She said, "religious people find that rituals or mythoi give them a reach that those sitting in the pews do not understand." In other words, for Armstrong, to be religious is very much about practicing what you believe. Though even the term belief has lost its meaning today.

"We have a fetish about belief in the West," she said. Today it has become a philosophical term of simply accepting a set of propositions, rather than it's original meaning in Greek πιστις or the word credo in Latin. It is about act and commitment, not just "intellectual acceptance of a somewhat dubious proposition." Coming back to the importance of myth, Armstrong says that no one reads Genesis as a literal account of life, but as "mythos," that is, allegorically. She then briefly talked the audience through the Senses of Scripture as found in the Catholic Church, going on to mention St Thomas Aquinas and his Five Ways. Her point was to show that even the Church Fathers did not believe that they were trying to prove or explain God in their theological writings. In the case of St Thomas Aquinas, she says he did not think he had proved God, but that he "proved the existence of a mystery." Once again, we come back to her previous statement about being silent and not being able to truly speak about God with our limited and inadequate language and knowledge.

Talking about her past as a former nun of the Society of the Holy Child Jesus, she said she never associated religion with compassion, but grace and kindness. Though later in her life, even after she vowed never to return to religion after leaving the community, she kept being pushed towards compassion - something she believes the world religions have developed. This sense of compassion is ultimately found in the Golden Rule found earliest in Confucius' writings: "Do not do to others what you would not like yourself. Then there will be no resentment against you, either in the family or in the state."

An interesting point she made was that we cannot "confine benevolence to our own group, but to everyone, to all people." If it is confined to just one's own group, it becomes "group egotism." It is about stepping out of oneself and leaving the ego behind (εκστασις). If we do not practice the Golden Rule then "we will not have a viable society in this age." The violence and conflict we know all too well from events of the past, are reflections where the Golden Rule has been lacking. We need to "build a community where people of all persuasions can live in harmony and respect. It's not just a nice thing to do, but is necessary for our existence." I found this point particularly pertinent. Though given her position as someone who speaks for religion, I'm not sure any atheists would disagree with her here. I don't think anyone at all would disagree.

Moving on to love, she says that it is "needed to provide practical support," and that the Greeks knew this well. Referring to Greek tragedies, she spoke about how they put "suffering on stage." By doing this, they showed that "they were not alone in their suffering ... They believed that weeping allowed them to share great pain together." To end her talk, she used the example of "The Persians" written by Aeschylus to reiterate the importance of compassion. True compassion is "putting yourself in the position of another, loving one another ... We become most god-like when we realise others are in pain."

One of the questions asked during the Q&A session was her view on fundamentalism. Armstrong said, "Fundamentalism is founded in profound fear. We need to address the causes of their fears; we cannot just rant on. When they feel their backs are to the wall, they lash out violently ... We must be aware of others' sensitivities." She said that there must be "something wrong with your spirituality if you are showing hatred towards others ... We must act on the Golden Rule rather than just believing it ... Dialogue does happen, but it needs to be more like Socratic dialogue." That is, dialogue that has a purpose, a goal towards truth.

Another question was how Armstrong attempts to place herself in other religions in order to understand them. She replied that, "looking at other world religions saved mine ... It's about making a place for the other in your place and in your heart. With transcendence no one has the last say." The final question was about the dynamics between religious believers and atheists. Armstrong said, "I cannot see compassion in their writings. Why do they have to be so aggressive? We need Socratic dialogue ... Socrates believed that people should be pushed into a place that they don't want to go to (I.e. not made to feel uncomfortable, or cornered during discussion) ... It has happened in the past with the likes of Paul Tillich." Talking about atheists she said, "They don't know very much about religion, which is a bit of a snag *laughter from audience* And also they're very unpleasant. Some of them are nice though, like Julian Baggini." Ending the evening she made one last point, if we're going to have dialogue, "we need dialogue with respect and humour."

To be honest, as much as I enjoyed it, everything she said (bar the bit about Jesus and the Trinity) was nothing new, controversial or groundbreaking. I suppose I was expecting something with more theological substance; although, I do appreciate that it was not aimed at theology academics and students. In general, I had a good evening. If you're interested I've included a photo of my live-tweeting from the talk. Due to the way the twitter webpage works, the tweets start at the bottom, with the latest tweet at the top.

Also, Happy ~~my town~~ St Andrews day for yesterday! Where has this semester gone?...

Saturday 26th November - St Mary's College Society Ball

2011-11-28T02:32:00.001Z

Recently, the lack of writing on here is beginning to make it look more and more like a photo blog. Ah well. I enjoyed myself so much at the College ball that I could have danced all the way home had it not been raining cats and dogs.

Also, I'm going to miss ceilidhs when I leave Scotland.

The Committee

Bubble battle

The ball may have finished, but we hadn't finished dancing

Raisin Weekend (20th - 21st November)

2011-11-26T02:02:00.001Z

I was going to write a bit about Raisin Weekend and how it's a great tradition (so great in fact it makes world and national headlines), but I think the photos are pretty self-explanatory.

Raisin Sunday: Mother's "Tea party" - 3pm

The pot game: Two or more people balance on a pot and have to get the rope over everyone without any support from the floor

Despite a sprained ankle, she was determined to take part in The cardboard box game (picking up the box with only your mouth and only your feet touching the floor. Every round a bit of the box gets torn off making it harder to pick up) - 4pm

The strawberry laces and polo game: Tie a polo into the middle of a lace, using only your mouth you have to be the first to reach the polo.

This is a dangerous game. This is the moment when he gave her a "Glasgow kiss".

After a wave of dizziness, nausea and a nose bleed, all was fine - 5pm

The ice game: An ice block is attached to a long piece of string. The string must go through your clothes (both top and bottom), ice block following, for the next person to do the same. The winning team is the one who gets the string through every person first.

The second round of Ring of Fire - 6 to 8pm (?)

I apparently was the only one light enough to try this technique for the pot game.

Jousting on bikes with no breaks and crutches. Because shields and horses are overrated - 9pm

More Ring of Fire - 10 to 11pm

And on to another party that consisted of face paint, Michael Jackson, dancing and the usual.... - 11pm till 6am

Raisin Monday: Breakfast provided by mothers in order to sober up the ~~parents~~ children - 8am

My son's costume. Casually padding himself out - 9am

Dressed him up as Jessica Rabbit from the film "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" Most people just mistook him for being in drag. That's fine too.

Getting ready for the foam fight - 10am

Do you need anymore proof that we go to Hogwarts?

"Used"

The infamous foam fight - 11 to 12pm

Friday 25th November - Respite

2011-11-26T00:07:00.001Z

Hello there, it's me.

I wanted to share with you the shenanigans of Raisin Weekend but Mr Dissertation has been keeping me up most nights, so I'm yet to get round to it.

Today I went to bed at 6am after completing half my dissertation. I can't really remember what I did during the day except I know I was outside and was angry with a printer. I spent most of my evening filling in a job application form for a job I really want. Don't you just detest application forms? They ask you so much rubbish about yourself that it makes you wonder whether you know yourself at all. Anyway, I managed to send it off with 33 minutes to spare.

On the application form, I was asked to list, if I had any, published articles. Looking on the internet I found this. It never fails to make me smile. Actually, just seeing "author" near my name makes me giggle a little.

I also found a comment on a blog questioning the reliability of one of my articles:

Fr Gerard:

But, it was Fr, Hunwicke himself who said it; "He added: “I shall promptly delete any comments on it." The authoritarian and heavy-handed Roman way is, in the present circumstances, quite worthy - indeed, demanding - of attention. Some would do well to look at it and see it for what it is.

"Anonymous wrote:
...it is just internet gossip and second-hand at that. I have no idea of the reliability of the author."

The author is the reporter, Rachel Obordo, for The Catholic Herald, the source for what you call "internet gossip." But, when it comes to authors whose reliability is unknown, may we assume that your name is not really Anonymous?

*Giggles* Someone called me a reporter.

Friday 18th November - Photo Booth + Long Hair =

2011-11-18T16:38:00.001Z

Monday 14th November - Holy Cross Abbey, Whitland

2011-11-14T11:00:00.000Z

Apologies for the delay. Still working. Had a productive time yesterday but after a Skype call with family, and tea with my son I inevitably lost my motivation to continue. I'm also struggling to move parts of my body without experiencing pain. My neck seems to be locked in a "hunched-over-peering-at-the-screen" position. Oh well.

This morning I've woken up in pain. Am currently lying on the floor in hope that it'll do something for my back. I can't move my arms without experiencing a sharp pang, and my neck and shoulders are swollen and tight. I didn't even get the work done for today. Bloody waste of effort.

Anyway, I'm not promising that you will enjoy, or find this post particularly engaging, but I find that the writing produced on retreats is different compared to my usual ramblings. They tap into a spiritual side of me that I often think is now non-existent. Hope you take something away from it.

Thursday 3rd November:

There's something very pleasing about travelling across the country by train. Perhaps it's because I can marvel at the countryside or simply sit back and watch the world pass me by - literally. When the train stops at a station I often find myself imagining the details of the life of the person sat across the platform from me. Where are they going? Where have they come from? Are they going to be met by a loved one or have the always wandered alone?

Swansea

My thoughts are all over the place at the moment. The last thing I wrote in my journal encapsulated a day that was simultaneously perfect and riddled with sadness. Two months on and I find myself questioning whether that day actually happened and if it did why I can't be happy that it did. As a wise person once said, "It's not our happy memories we remember, but our sufferings."

I'm angry at myself again. I find this happens every couple of months - usually for the same reason. I only have myself to blame for my lack of strength and inability to cope. I'm too stubborn to admit defeat and therefore hold out for a brighter day. Truth is, I'm scared. I'm scared of letting go and subjecting myself to the randomness that is life. I'm sacred of caring again, of getting hurt, and most of all, being alone. And so I hold on tight with all my might, living life as a shadow of my former self, waiting for the day when I wake up and no longer care. But that's too much to ask of myself. I'll always care whether I like it or not, whether I want to or not. But it's a lot to bear: waiting. I've been running for so long, perhaps it's time to stop, face it, and let go.

This place is beautiful. At the top of a hill, surrounded by the serene Preseli hills, I'm truly in the middle of nowhere. Greeted at the station by the abbess Sr Christine, we drive to the abbey. She tells me that a cloud has just burst and that it's a shame the weather isn't nicer. Considering I was greeted in Whitland by a vibrant rainbow (and the fact that I live in Scotland) I beg to differ, but continue to nod and smile politely. She tells me that the road to the abbey sometimes becomes a river when it's raining hard, and that when this happens the road is closed and there's no quick way to get to the station. Part of me prays and hopes that this happens so I can stay in this haven of solitude for longer.

The Abbey

The Guest House

Upon arrival I am handed over to Sr Elizabeth who is the retired guest mistress. Sr Christine apologises on the behalf of Sr Andrew (the current guest mistress) as she is poorly with an illness. I am shown the quaint self-catered studio flat that I am going to be staying in. The sisters have been kind enough to save me supper - tomato soup, pasta, broccoli, potatoes, and rice pudding - a feast fit for a retreatant. There are two rooms for me to choose from. Sr Elizabeth suggests the smaller one as it's warmer. This sounds appealing but so does the look of the rocking chair in the other room (the one I happen to be rocking in as I write). Perhaps I'll move later.

She takes me to the chapel which is down some steep steps (which I can only imagine becomes a waterfall in rainy weather). Walking in I am reminded of the chapel at the Dominican Sisters of St Joseph. Quite modern, there is no obvious distinction between the area for the community and the laity (unlike at Pluscarden). The altar, the choir stalls and the tabernacle are very simple. No ornate wooden carvings or elaborate designs, just plain crosses. Sr Elizabeth hands me my five choir books for the Divine Office. Despite talking (well whispering) me through them, as well as marking certain pages with large colourful clips, I know I'm going to forget anyway.

On my way back to my room (which I've discovered is named after St Non), she offers to find me a torch so I can attend Vigils tomorrow. Along the path we encounter a black cat. It turns out the community (of which there are only seven) have three cats: Snap, Crackle and Pop. Sr Elizabeth seems to be very fond of Pop (the cat she introduced me to), or so I gathered from the way she was stroking her cooing "Yes you're my favourite pussy, yes you are!"

Torch obtained I returned to my room to unpack and sort through my things. On the abbey website they said they provide 'necessities' for guests. Boy were they being modest! The cupboards in the kitchen are stocked well enough to feed a family through a zombie outbreak. There's beans, golden syrup, tuna and even sauerkraut! I guess I didn't need to bring anything after all.

------------------

Is there any monastery/abbey/charterhouse that doesn't have a copy of Br Lawrence's Practise the Presence of God?

There are maps of Pembrokeshire in the living room. One of them has an advertisement for speed boat rides. It's called Aquaphobia.

------------------

So I was journalling before Vespers, but now I'm back and have had dinner I'm trying to learn a bit of Welsh before Compline. It doesn't surprise me that when people look at Welsh words they think it's a made up language. Not only is it not phonetic but there are just too many consonants next to each other! Even Polish seems easier than this. No, wait, even Greek is easier - and that's symbols! [I just chuckled to myself as I pronounced open in Welsh out loud. I'd convinced myself I was calling upon the true King of Gondor].

It's a shame I couldn't go to Caldey Island. The island itself looks untouched and tranquil, not to mention the fact that the monks make chocolate. I used to think if I were to be a nun that I'd be rather content to paint or do calligraphy, but now I'm thinking the Cistercian monks have got it right. It's like that time in the Philippines when we drove eight hours to Baguio in hope of making it to Banaue (the famous rice terraces). Another sad tale of "so close yet so far". More reason to come back I guess.

It's creeping me out slightly that there's an unlocked door between my room and the community quarters. Although Sr Elizabeth knocks before entering, the mere sound of the knocking itself piercing the silence is enough to give me a fright. Also, I'm a wee bit paranoid that someone will walk in whilst I'm sleeping. Though I'm 99% sure I have nothing to worry about.

I think my "favourite" hours of the Divine Office are Vigils and Compline, mainly because they both take place in darkness. During Compline this evening I found it very moving and stilling to have the sisters with their backs to me, their black habits and white cowls draped perfectly over them, chanting, the sweet music echoing off the walls. All of this taking place by the light of one candle. It's at this moment that I contemplated my 'calling' to be a nun. Even if I did want to become one it wouldn't be for the right reasons. I'd be saying all the words and performing all the postures, but my heart just wouldn't be in it. I know in my heart that joining a religious community would be a mistake. It would be me trying to run away from a reality I no longer want to be a part of, feelings I no longer want to feel, and people I need to stay away from. Life as a religious may prove to be the ultimate distraction but it would be an insult to contemplatives everywhere if I were to join for those reasons. And anyway, no one could guarantee that I'd enter the monastic life and feel at peace with myself.

Friday 4th November:

Asleep at 20:30 and awake at 3:00. However did I manage such a feat? Considering I'm still awake at 3am most nights I'm pleased I was able to control my sleeping habits this one time.

--------------------

Question: Are contemplatives allowed to miss any part of the Divine Office (apart from being ill)? I only ask because there were only two nuns in the chapel this morning. I suspect the more elderly sisters require more sleep on grounds of health?
~ Answer: The nuns are allowed two days rest, which means not going to Vigils. Now I know why Sr Elizabeth replied to my "Sleep well" yesterday evening with "Oh I will!"

Psalm 69:13-15
13 But I pray to you, LORD
in the time of your favour;
in your great love, O God,
answer me with your sure salvation.
14 Rescue me from the mire,
do not let me sink;
deliver me from those who hate me,
from the deep waters
15 Do not let the floodwaters engulf me
or the depths swallow me up
or the pit close its mouth over me.

-------------------

I'm annoyed. So I dozed off after Vigils, though not before setting an alarm to wake me up before Lauds. Alarm goes off and I'm faced with three clock faces that are showing different times. It seems that when I dropped the clock I set the alarm on, the clock itself stopped, meaning that when it went off at 6:30, it was actually 7:30! So not only did I miss Lauds I also missed Tierce *mumble grumble* At least I'm awake for Mass.

I never feel more welcome in God's house than when I'm attending Mass whilst on retreat. Perhaps it's because I know the people who are celebrating it are there because they want to be. Even during weekday Masses I usually expect there to be others, but today it was just me. I felt at peace. I have since I arrived. I think it's all the time alone, but especially more the silence. Surprisingly I don't even find myself talking to myself out loud that much. I think attending the Divine Office and allowing myself to speak for only one purpose - to talk to God - suffices my need to verbally express myself.

Why does Confession seem like a sham? I sit there, confess my sins, make an act of contrition, get given a penance and am absolved. And yet, I come out of there feeling more angry and more stupid than when I first went in. I don't think it helps when it takes place face-to-face. As I said yesterday, I like the darkness: the ability to hide my sinfulness behind a screen is comforting somewhat. To confess to a priest's face reveals one in all their nakedness. We are laid bare for all to see. An uncomfortable feeling. But maybe I feel it's a sham because I don't really believe in it anymore - the power of being absolved. I know I live a life of sin but whether that means I'm going to stop ... well, I don't know. Like any life lived in temptation, I enjoy it and yet I don't. When alone I get pangs of guilt for all the stupid things I've done, but in the moment ... well, I enjoy it. I want to stop and I don't. But I think I don't want to stop more than I do.

I had some time to kill before Sext so decided to go for a spot of hill walking. I had planned to do some dissertation reading, but with the sun blinding my eyes I thought my time would be best spent outside. Not only was it sunny, but warm! And dry! Wales is not too different from Scotland - it's also not as wet as everyone says ... Anyway, I wandered up the road just beyond the abbey. What I found made my heart leap with joy. Now, we've established on previous visits to monasteries that wild animals (or farm cattle for you country folk) are an exciting sight for me. As I turned to climb further up, that's when I spotted them. Llamas! What magnificent creatures! As I snapped away on Hector they seemed to be as curious of me as I was of them. One even slowly edged right up to the fence simply to stare at me with those vacant dark eyes. For all I know it wanted me to piss off. So I did.

Look at that evil grin. Any closer and I'm sure it would have spat on me

I kept on walking till I reached some houses and thought I'd better turn back as there was nothing more to see. Passing the abbey on my left, I continued down the road we drove up when I was picked up at the station. Walking past a few pubs I could smell the waft of bacon tingle the inside of my nostrils. Ah, meat....

Welsh people are lovely, but also a little scary. Now the latter may just be a reflection of living in the city most of my life, but usually when a stranger talks to you it's not a good thing, but an invasion of privacy - even if that invasion is simply interrupting me staring at the Preseli Hills. One man in his 50s, looking suspiciously like Mick Jagger, initiated conversation mid-photo to tell me that I could get on to the old bridge I was taking a photo of. As he was telling me how to get there I could geel something tugging at my jeans - it was the Dulux paint dog! - well a more unkempt version.

Anyway, another encounter with a stranger involved an elderly lady apologising for nearly tripping me up with her shopping trolley. I was about 2ms away from her and too busy standing in the middle of the level crossing imagining what it would be like to see a train speeding towards me, to be paying much attention. So she needn't have worried. One thing I did notice though is that every time I'm in a new village and I see two or more members of the elderly community together, I think of Hot Fuzz and how their idle chat about Maude and Mr Norris next door is actually a cover up for their plan to kill someone. I was actually told during my talk with the priest earlier that the imagination can be a dangerous thing. He might be right.

When I picked up my tray of dinner from the pantry I though "My, the nuns are generous!" Amongst the array of food on the tray, there was a little jar with the label Rose Petal Jelly, Summer 2011. Intriguing. Before starting my meal with the soup, I thought I'd taste some of this jelly instead. My initial reaction was "What on earth?!" It's like eating a flower. Actually, it's like eating a bowl of potpourri. It's one of the strangest things I have ever tasted. I think I prefer basil ice-cream. [10 mins and a glass of water later I'm still sticking my tongue out in disgust. I'm going to have a cup of tea.]

In a bid to avoid reading the rest of my book (I was initially gripped by all the Greek words and was satisfied with my pleasure in being able to read and translate some of them, but soon the novelty wore off), I am reading Reader's Digest. Quoted as "The World's Favourite Magazine" I can just about see its appeal. After reading it from cover to cover, I've learnt how to set a hamster trap, amongst other things. According to the Word Power Quiz I have an excellent vocabulary (though if I took this at the time [March 1999] I don't think I would have scored so highly). Currently I'm laughing at the Life's Like That section. Here's one for your enjoyment:

The man knocking on my door asking for the milk money was unfamiliar, so I asked him if he had any identification. "Well," he said looking thoughtfully and pointing into the street, "I've got the milk float." ~ Lesley Evans, Swansea.

------------------

I was a little annoyed to find that None was to interrupt my reading of the Reader's Digest. Now back in the flat I am pleased to inform you that I have discovered another two copies. I think I will be sufficiently preoccupied till Vespers.

A summary of the October 1998 issue:

Egypt is really, truly, madly romantic
The story of T65 makes me want a raccoon
Honey gives you instant energy
Reader's Digest is rather gripping

[Not so sure on the last point. Lack of social interaction, online or otherwise, may be distracting my usually "keen" sense of judgment.]

------------------

Casually sitting at the table reading my final copy of Reader's Digest (December 1997 for those of you interested), when I hear Sr Elizabeth on the other side of the door cooing. I reply and she opens the door with a wide smile, the jar of rose petal jelly in her hand. This is for you to keep / Oh, thank you / It's very sweet mind you (Yeah, I didn't notice....).

She sat down just to run a few details with me about changing the bed sheets and bringing the plates back down to the pantry. She asked me a few questions about myself and we got talking about the Philippines and how people living in poorer conditions than us are usually happier. She tells me that she's originally from Australia and that she'll be celebrating her 60th anniversary next April. She said she never wanted to be a nun till she travelled to the UK and met the Cistercians. Four weeks it took her to travel her by boat! Four long weeks, surrounded by nothing but water. Blimey. She told me that she thoroughly enjoyed her job back home but knew that there was nothing in life that would make her more happier than dedicating her life to God as a Cistercian. It was at this moment that I knew in my heart that this life was not for me. It can't be. I've had a taste of the happiness that is available out in the world and I hope to experience it again one day. Also I'd really like to have children and be the best mother I can be.

[Wait, maybe I could be a nun? There's not really much going for me back out there anyway. Spooks has finished after all ... Who am I kidding? I'm not nearly half as faithful or willing for this life.]

We ended the conversation by briefly talking about the Beeb documentary Young Nuns. She said that the sisters had a tv screen, but that it only played discs. Bless. She said she read the review in The Tablet and that it sounded quite good. She thanked me for coming to stay with the community and wished me luck for the future before giving me a hug. It's a bit of a shame that I have to leave so soon. I've been enjoying the routine of attending the Divine Office, and only wish I could structure my day around it back in the world of dissertations and The Walking Dead.

I cannot express enough my admiration for contemplatives. But, contemplatives with a good sense of humour and a down-to-earth manner about them are simply wonderful. I only say this because of the wee slip up of one of the nuns during Compline. She was meant to turn on the small light after we prayed in darkness, but instead she turned on all the main lights and then the lights in the cloister before getting the right one. Sr Chris was about to walk over and help her, not in reproach, but in kindness. The smile of affection reflected her kind thoughts: Oh God bless her, she's turned on the wrong lights!

An example of good humour can be traced back all the way to the Desert Fathers. Palladius, questioned by John about his desire to be a bishop replied that he was already bishop of the kitchen, consecrated by gluttony, and excommunicating the wine when it turned to vinegar.

--------------------

It's 20:48. My bedside lamp has spontaneously switched off so I am writing this using the glow of my phone as a guide (and no, I'm not actually using it - in fact one doesn't even get signal here). I wonder if my sudden descent into darkness is a sign I should retire from my reading on the Desert Fathers and go to sleep?

*Two minutes later*

And then there was light! Right, back to work.

Saturday 5th November:

I could see all the stars as I made my way to the chapel for Vigils. I even spotted a few star consolations. Now back in my room with some tea, I am contemplating whether it's worth sleeping for an hour before Lauds ... Here are some things for you to ponder, taken from the ever delightful Reader's Digest:

Inspiration is nurtured by activities like chopping wood, raking leaves and reading to the children. Those activities soften the work pace of the day's pursuits and allow all our God-given intuition to work in unlogical magic. Only then can we reach our fullest potential. Only then can we leap from thinking to understanding. ~ Philip Howard

The word not spoken goes not quite unheard. It lingers in the eye, the semi-arching of the brow. A gesture of the hand speaks pages more than words, the echo rests in the heart as driftwood does in sound, to be rubbed by time until it rots or shines. The word not spoken touches us as music does the mind. ~ William Cohen in The New York Times

--------------------

I've managed to wet my last pair of socks and jeans all for a couple dozen photos of morning frost and a dandelion covered in dew. A beautiful autumn morning though. Chilly, granted, but the rays of light over the valleys and the colours of the shedding leaves ... Such beauty can only be created.

I like reading through the visitor's book. Not really for the comments (Most of them are the same. The only time I've seen something of interest was when the word unusual cropped up. Even then, the person was using it in the context of gardening) but more to marvel at all the different handwriting scripts. Apparently one's handwriting reflects one's personality. I actually thought it was just down to the way someone holds the pen *shrugs* There's the large writing that reflects a bubbly personality and the tiny, illegible scrawl that represents an introverted personality. Now, I'm not really sure how much of this is true but handwriting is something that I consider an art. Whether you're bubbly or introverted, big or tiny, your handwriting is a thing of beauty.

--------------------

Bless Sr Elizabeth. The hospitality she has shown me since I've been here has been more than I could ever have asked for. Working at the table, the morning light as my aid, she knocks on the connecting door and walks in draped in her kitchen work clothes - apron and tea cosy on her head. She has brought me rolls and sweet buns for the journey home. She tells me she'll be back later after she finishes up in the kitchen as she wants to give me the addresses for Cistercian abbeys in the Philippines. It's the little things that people take away from conversations that have the largest impact on the heart.

So ... I fell asleep again. Thank God Sr Elizabeth came knocking on the door when she did otherwise I may have missed my train. She came in and sat down for a chat. I offered her a drink and she replied "No ... I want my bed!" Ha! She told me about the history of the Cistercian community in Whitland, and the tale of how they went house hunting all over the country for a suitable building. Her and a few other nuns (One's died and the other is in a home *taps her head* She's gone off a bit mentally. I'm the only sane one left of the "three oldies" as they called us! *laughs*) She was saying the abbey now standing has been tastefully decorated. The private rooms are not too feminine, and have none of that frilly stuff. No, just simple. Our en-suites are nice too. I have a shower and Sr Linda next door has a bath, and so on. But a shower suits me fine. I ask her about her plans for today: "I'm probably going to have a siesta before I say None ... I have a nice small table you see, I like to be able to move it wherever I like. The nice thing about Saturdays is the break from structure. There's no Office between Mass and Vespers so sometimes I like to take a sandwich and go for a walk."

She then bids her farewells, or as she likes to call it See you laters! Sr Elizabeth: "You know in French it's au revoir, so I will say 'au revoir' to you." As one would expect, when a conversation is flowing as naturally as this one, she ended up staying for another 20 minutes.

We spoke about films and she began to quote from Pride and Prejudice. I asked if she had seen the more recent film and she told me she had not. We then shared our admiration for Colin Firth and went on to talk at length on The King's Speech. She mentioned Of Gods and Men and recalled how she knew one of the monks who survived. She said the film was not entirely true. The scene that shows a monk hiding under the bed did not happen. Instead, he was in another part of the house at the time. Hearing Fr Christian's voice (the abbot), he assumed everything was ok, before returning to his room to retire for the evening. It was only when he awoke for Lauds in the morning that he realised what had happened. According to Sr Elizabeth, the men were only ordered to take 7 of the monks. Unfortunate, one could say, for the brother who was visiting the community at the time, but as Sr Elizabeth says "It was meant to be - his crowning glory."

We talked about The Tablet (she doesn't bother reading The Catholic Herald unless she's waiting for Mass or something); Caldey Island; trains and the extortionate prices of their buffet carts. We also spoke of the soap boxes at Speaker's Corner in Hyde Park; reading in Latin ("St Bernard is a poet, so reading him in English is like reading Dante in German"). We could have talked all afternoon but I could tell she wanted her siesta. Before she left, she started to chant "I-am-going-to-go-to-my-bed-now!!!" She continued to say au revoir as the door was closing behind her, reminding me to send the sisters a copy of my dissertation once it's finished. At this rate, it more a case of if.

Sr Edith dropped me off to the station. Before leaving she told me she needed to lock the door of the guesthouse as last time they had ""visitors" in inverted commas". In the car I asked her about these visitors and whether they had long tails. According to her it was actually men posing as window cleaners. She then told me when she was younger, her father used to tell her stories of men who would dress up as window cleaners, prop a ladder on a roof and plan their break-in. She told me of the high drug problem in Whitland and that in the evening it's a very different place than it is during the day. She said people think the community is really rich because they converted the old barn; even the construction workers though they were getting their salary straight from the Vatican! (You've got to admire the picture some people have of the Church.)

They think we have laptops and mobiles for them to steal / Yes, because nuns are really going to have plenty of those things. You don't even get signal up here / *chuckles*

She said gadgets disrupt the peace in our hearts and souls. I completely agree. I'm nervous about turning my phone on. I've enjoyed having just the cats and the nuns for company. I feel refreshed not having to have looked at a screen these last few days. Oh well. Here we are. Back to reality. Let's take a deep breath.

Saturday 12th November - Aching and Silence

2011-11-12T18:58:00.001Z

Photo credit to JeRoenMurre

Today I've been sat in a room, at a desk, reading and typing. I returned five books to the library only to take out nine. Though I consoled myself with a box of noodles, I noticed that on my way to and from church, these last few days have been really tiring. Not only does my body feel really stiff, I've made a habit out of falling asleep at the blink of an eye. Once, sitting in the living room whilst reading, I seemed to blink and an hour had passed. Another time I was sitting at my desk typing away on Maximus, and the next thing I knew I was looking at the wall to the right of me. Falling asleep unintentionally can be quite disorientating. I wasn't really sure what day it was or whether I had given myself permission to have a quick siesta at my chair *shrugs* Anyway, I've thought of some ways to help sort this out:

1. Lie down on the floor (Back pains have been getting progressively worse with stress and what not, also it would be safer than falling asleep standing)
2. Relax as opposed to procrastinate
3. Have a massage (Any volunteers? Drop me an email ->)
4. Getting my work done well in advance of the deadline (It's too late to do this this time round, and highly unlikely I will ever succeed in doing so in the future)
5. Closing my eyes and forgetting about everything (NB To implement this would be dangerous. I would risk feeling the wrath of my dissertation supervisor [in other words a facebook message as to my whereabouts], or even worse, transforming into a sloth. Failure to submit work and not attend exams would also mean failing my degree. Subsequently resulting in not managing to make it in the journalism sector, instead, working in McDonalds earning minimum wage, missing the chance to have a husband, children, and a nice house in the suburbs because I'm too busy cultivating grease in my hair and skin, in turn contracting some kind of horrible disease from frying things all day, and dying sad, alone - not even any cats to keep me company - and covered in acne at the age of 35)

I think we can safely rule out number 5.

Apart from the feeling that this dissertation is slowly killing me (I plan to do two all-nighters to get this done), I want to share with you my thoughts on tonight's Mass.

The sermon this evening was a continuation of a catechesis on the new translation of the Roman missal. Talking about the words of consecration, the priest brought up the importance of 'sacred silence'. He said that after receiving Communion, it is important for us to observe this 'sweet silence' as we contemplate being in the presence of God, praying to Him as we kneel. Now, he also took this opportunity to address something that's been somewhat of an embarrassment in the parish up here in St Andrews.

Unfortunately, many people have been leaving Mass as soon as they've received Communion. Not only is it disrespectful to God but it's distracting to hear the church door bang every time someone leaves. Apparently, last week alone, thirty-one people had left before the final blessing. Now I know it doesn't sound like much, but for a small parish like ours, that's a good few pews of missing people. He said that he understood people have things to do and places to be, but God only asks (as a minimum, bear in mind) for one hour a week.

Right at this moment I could hear people behind me sniggering and talking. I ignored it and continued to listen. Sitting there I found myself agreeing with Fr Andrew. God doesn't ask much of us, so one hour a week is the least we can provide Him. To illustrate, he provided an example: Imagine you're standing at the traffic lights waiting for the green man to come up. You can see that there's no traffic whatsoever and decide to cross. But something stops you. You see a mother and child on the other side of the road. She is teaching him to wait for the green man to show that it's safe to cross. So, being the responsible adult that you are, you wait, setting an example for the young boy. Fr Andrew's point was that we should do the same. By leaving early we are sending the wrong signal to younger members of the congregation.

Once his sermon had ended, the talkative people behind me got up and quickly left. Something tells me they weren't really listening.

EDIT: Thanks to my friend for pointing out that you can't see who the photo credit's for. Stupidly forgot the caption box is white ... It must be because ITV is playing old X Factor auditions.

I wonder if there's a way to disallow anonymous questions, at least? :)

2011-11-11T11:32:00.001Z

I think there is, but then who will ask me questions? No one will want to ask intrusive things like "What's your favourite colour?" or "What's your favourite ice-cream flavour?" if they know they have to reveal their identity. Can you imagine the embarrassment at asking such questions!

Ask me anything

Thursday 10th November - What's with all the random people who use your question box as a means to comment on your posts? Haven't they heard of @replies? :P annoyed

2011-11-11T09:49:00.001Z

I know, right? Perhaps I should offer an email address that people can contact me on? *ponders*

Ask me anything

EDIT: In response to this I've created a means for you all to contact me with your comments, questions, strange facts and rants. Check it out in the sidebar.

Wednesday 9th November - Mission Dissertation

2011-11-09T13:00:00.001Z

I need to write 5,000 words of my dissertation by Monday even though I'm still researching and haven't come up with a thesis. I've written up about half of my retreat blog post, so I'll publish that some time in the future....

To distract you from the lack of interesting and informative posts, here's what I'm listening to at the moment (if you click play, YouTube will play my Research Playlist automatically):

For Spotify users, click here.

That blog post is coming....

2011-11-07T20:17:00.000Z

Some serious s**t is going down in my life right now. I feel a bit sick and nervous. Actually, terrified is more correct. If you could keep me in your thoughts I'd really appreciate it.

Monday 7th November - London from a Bus Window

2011-11-07T10:28:00.002Z

I'll have that blog post on my recent retreat up ... soon. In the meantime, feast your eyes on this beautiful film of London from a bus window.

The Many Faces of Lego Man

2011-11-02T21:53:00.001Z

I had a lot of fun doing this.

Wednesday 2nd November - Book Review

2011-11-02T21:46:00.000Z

If any of you are interested in the Oxford Movement, I wrote a book review on it in the Westminster Record (page 17).

For a book I didn't find particularly riveting, I'm surprised I managed to hammer out that many words about it. I think my favourite line is 'Just over 100 pages, the book is an exhaustive insight into Lockhart's history, conveniently condensed into a digestible size for those less inclined to read through volumes of Victorian history.' That's code for 'It's short and is therefore good for lazy people like me.'

In other news, I'm off on retreat to a Cistercian abbey tomorrow. So, no phones, no Maximus (though I will be bringing Hector) and no contact with the outside world. God knows I'm in dire need of one right now, so I'm really hoping my time away will be fruitful. I'm sure I'll write about my stay there, so stay tuned for a long post.

Hopefully it won't just be 'Huh, Wales is just like Scotland, but with less sun.'

Monday 31st October - Happy Hallowe'en!

2011-10-31T20:58:00.002Z

What is your favourite flavour of ice-cream?

2011-10-29T19:11:00.001+01:00

My favourite is chocolate (boring, yes I know). But the most interesting flavour (yes, I'm assuming you want to know this too) is basil. Very interesting.

Ask me anything

What lifts your spirits when life gets you down?

2011-10-21T02:30:00.001+01:00

Scrubs; Ostriches; Michael McIntyre; Ice-cream and Baby Bob Marley.

Ask me anything

Friday 21st October - Can there be happiness without sadness?

2011-10-21T02:19:00.001+01:00

I feel like there would be some kind of catch if this was possible. We can't always be happy.

But that's probably just me, I'm a sceptic at heart and so I question most things.

But maybe I'm wrong.

Ask me anything

Thursday 13th October - Finally, the wait is over....

2011-10-13T14:29:00.003+01:00

I am very pleased to hear that Mr Paul Stubbings has been appointed as the new headmaster of Cardinal Vaughan Memorial School. After much deliberation and, shall we say, differences, the decision has finally been made.

The press release from the Diocese of Westminster can be found here.

Sunday 9th October - Still Here

2011-10-09T22:38:00.000+01:00

Hi there, I'm still here, just not here. So many things going on, and so much to blog about. Here's a summary of what's been going on:

Attempting to ~~buy~~ ~~bribe~~ offer my dissertation supervisor a homemade cupcake; Social after social; Spending longer than needed making posters on Photoshop; A beautiful view of Alexandra Palace; Loving friends; Surprise visit to London for Mother's birthday which ended in tears (happy ones); Fun family time; Talking to my priest and getting excited about the ongoing work on the church; My Gran and her insistence that I marry a handyman; Catch up with a friend in a stylish west London pub; Reading Merton's Elected Silence; Movie night with friends and how Jonathan Rhys Meyers sounds like James Blunt in Match Point; Attending a high Anglican service and missing incense; and spending two hours with a PhD student discussing my dissertation i.e. the religious life, Carmelites, Benedictines, Carthusians, Cistercians, Thomas Merton, Vatican II, Pope Paul VI, Pope John Paul II, Silence etc.

All good/stressful/busy fun!

Ignore Me

2011-09-29T21:52:00.002+01:00

I made one promise to myself before the start of this academic year. Just one.

In the months building up to September it looked like I'd be able to stick to it. Little did I know that the universe would thwart my attempt and impede my progress. I don't blame unseen forces, but stray moments of happenstance that drastically alter life paths make more appearances than I'd like. They're becoming as frequent as being shat on by a bird.

Not only did I break my promise but I entertained the idea that I would be ok with it. I make myself laugh sometimes. Until now I thought I'd grown out of my naiveté: The little girl who looked at the world with innocent wide-eyes, believing that dreams could come true, and that happy endings were not just myths of classic novels.

I need to grow up. Accept the muck that is our world, the darkness that is reality, the broken record that is my emotions, and the hole that is eating away at me.

I need this year to be a good one. It's my last one in this special place and I can't have it marred by stupid feelings.

My Week

2011-09-29T19:07:00.001+01:00

This is another one of those really long posts. But like previous posts, it's littered with photos to make sure you don't doze off. Who says I don't think about my readers?

Thursday 22nd September

I finished the feature piece I was writing for The Saint. Unfortunately, I didn't get to interview enough people so had to include myself. Not ideal, but if I get children as a result, it won't be so bad I guess.

I advised for the philosophy of religion module, only to find that we have a presessional task. I'm surprised to admit that I was willing to get on it straight away, only to find that the reading wasn't available online or in the library. Well that's rubbish. I wanted to try and read the stuff now so that I could at least realise and foresee my failure of the module. In other news I spent £80 on books - for one module. Still, it's money well spent. In another life that wouldn't be enough to fund my drug habit.

I was cutting it fine getting to my dissertation session because advising was taking too long (the girl in front of me had been waiting for nearly two hours!). An hour and a half about dissertations. Yay. It was all very useful but it just made me panic. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what I'm writing. I don't really think I know anything.

Back home for my friend's birthday. Good. I need a drink or two. Oh and cake. Yay, cake!

He didn't have an apron....

--------------------

Friday 23rd September

Went to the doctors. Veins decided not to play nice, fancying a game of hide and seek instead. The result?

Ouchy

Went to go and view venues for our society's ball. The hotel was pretty standard. Dance floor and circular tables. Payment included a set three-meal course and stewards. We would have to hire ~~bouncers~~ security though. MUSA (Museum of the University of St Andrews) was our next stop. Lovely space. I liked the idea of spending the evening amongst old gowns and university antiques. But, alas, they said they wouldn't be able to cater for a sit-down mean. How disappointing.

Went to The Bop. Gosh did I feel old. All these Justin Bieber lookalikes, as young as 17 with their fresh baby faces. I didn't know anyone there - and that's saying something for an event in the union at St Andrews.

I was disappointed that there wasn't enough cheesy music BUT, I did come home with a huge balloon. On another note, our house is slowly being invaded by slugs. We found this little bugger on the kitchen worktop.

"I'm quite worried about you standing in the middle of the road."

I am super hyper. Perhaps I should act my age more often.

-------------------

Saturday 24th September

It's our college barbecue today. Spent most of it handling raw meat and chatting to freshers. I also adopted a son,who's strangely older than me. But that's all part of the quirk of academic families! You'd think at a barbecue that the theologians would give themselves a break with the deep discussions, but no. More often than not I seemed to walk into the middle of a conversation that was going something like, "Do cigarettes have feelings? Who's harming who more? Is the cigarette harming me because it's slowly killing me, or am I harming it by smoking it so ruthlessly?" We are an odd bunch.

"Teddy bear rolls workshop"

Someone asked me about my dissertation. It was bound to happen some time over the course of the day, but I was hoping the whole "Well semester's not started yet so I don't want to think about it" excuse would do. Wrong. Anyway, I couldn't answer them. An because I couldn't answer what my dissertation was on I panicked. If I think about it properly - I don't know what I'm doing. For most things in life I'm quite capable of coasting and blagging my way through - whether it's essays, an interview or some kind of social event. But this is important. Really important. And it's all down to me to work out what I'm going to write about. I'm screwed.

Leonard our JCR (Junior Common Room) seagull

I'm supposed to be meeting my supervisor this week to "discuss" it. I don't have anything to discuss. I haven't done the reading or the research I should have done before semester. Ground, please open up and swallow me.

After cleaning up the barbecue I met up with a friend. It's always nice to catch up. She came over for dinner and we watched David Attenborough talk about mudskippers. Those things are funny.

Out again this evening for some live music. Admiral Fallow were just brilliant. I'm not much of a music person but you can't go wrong with live music.

I was actually a bit disappointed to find that the support act were better than the main: Jose Gonzalez. The set didn't finish till about 1am which I thought was quite late considering it started at 10pm. I think I was just tired. I *may* have nodded off halfway through one of Jose's songs....

------------------

Sunday 25th September

Lectures start tomorrow *groan*

Slammed my alarm off only to realise I had texts and missed calls. They were angry ones. Something about how we wouldn't be having a stall at the Freshers' Fayre and for other reasons, were not going to go and publicise ourselves. Shame. It would have been a really good place to plug our society. What a missed opportunity. Also, a little birdie later told me that people were blaming me for the cock up. Yay to being blamed. Anyway, I was peeved. What a great start to the day!

Had a lazy brunch then wandered over to the Freshers' Fayre. It was absolutely packed. Home for a spot of Tea and then our opening service at St Leonard's Chapel. T'was lovely, and such a great turn out - the best in years apparently. Dr Ian Bradley's address mentioned the need to listen more to the silence. I smiled.

The social in the SCR (Senior Common Room) afterwards was good. I usually don't feel comfortable in these situations but conversation seemed to flow easily enough. Four years and it was the first time the principal of the college spoke to me. He seems like a nice guy. Good sense of humour, but he looked a bit worried when the topic of my dissertation came up ... And oh dear are the freshers funny. I made a few silly faces because these girls didn't know who Frank Bruno and Terry Wogan were. Terry Wogan!

God am I glad Freshers' Week is over.

------------------

Monday 26th September

I had my first philosophy of religion lecture today. It seems i didn't need to worry so much as we started off with Alston's argument that CMP is a doxastic practice that cannot be judged by external models, such as, arguing that what a religious person believes is false because it cannot produce philosophically compelling arguments to prove their beliefs to be true is not true. According to Alston, we can only judge a CMP doxastic practice within its own constraints. That is, not the individual experience, but the collective social experience/practice (CMP). Too heavy?

In the two-hour lecture our lecturer managed to drop in a reference to Bulletproof Monk. This is going to be a good module. I can sense it.

I went into the new library for the first time this semester. My first thoughts were, "Where the hell are the stairs?" The carpet's nice though and the area is a lot lighter and more open in general. I'm not sure about the cafe name Cafe 1413. I don't care if that's when the university was supposedly founded - it's really unoriginal. The same goes for if it was called Cafe 600 (which apparently was a contender for the title).

My day was going well up until i stepped into the library. I tried to pick up books I had requested, only to be told that they were in St Mary's Library (King James) where the main library was moved to during the renovation works. I wandered over there to find that they had just packed the books and sent them back over to the main library. This was becoming a joke. So I went back to the main library to find that they couldn't find the book in question *sigh* I gave in and thought i'd print off some reading instead. Tried to print them off only to be told that the printers weren't working. WHAT? So where could I print my stuff off? The Bute. And where is the Bute? BEHIND BLOODY ST MARY'S LIBRARY. I could have killed someone there and then. So I went to the Bute to print off my stuff, except online readings didn't want to open. I wanted to cry. Instead, I trundled home defeated and deflated by my unproductive, waste of a morning, heavy books in tow and no readings for the upcoming philosophy seminar. Boo.

I managed to get a bit of reading done before I remembered that I needed to be in town again for the weekly pub night for our society. I also remembered that i was off to attend an LGBT traffic light party. How fun! The rules are supposedly: Red for "I'm taken", amber for "It's complicated," and green for "I'm single". I didn't talk to many people at the party. To be fair I wasn't really there for myself but as "wingwoman" for my friend. I did meet a nice bi guy though ... very cute.

Anyway, once we got bored we went back to the pub where we sang songs and laughed at each other till closing time. I was buzzing and tired at the same time. How long am I supposed to keep up all this socialising business?

--------------------

Tuesday 27th September

I don't feel so good. I have a committee meeting later. I'm staying in bed.

*Several hours later*

I went to the committee meeting and left early. Apparently people were worried about my abrupt departure. Aw, it's nice to know they care. Bed it is.

--------------------

Wednesday 28th September

I've lost my voice. My body aches. I feel rubbish. I think I'm ill.

I'm also missing out on this beautiful weather. It makes me sad. I'm going to go and cycle later to make myself feel better.

--------------------

Thursday 29th September

Feeling a bit better. Woke up early to do some work (Thanks for the pats on the back guys) and then went into town, only to cart back 20 or so books. That's the downside of living in the Badlands (the area of St Andrews that's south of the main streets - it's the area between town and Morrisons), carrying books home is a work out in itself.

People were handing out The Saint today. I must say, I'm a bit disappointed. A shoddy job was done of my feature piece and they spelt my name wrong on the photo I submitted *sigh* I'm sure by now readers will know that I'm not responsible for how my articles look in the final print, but you have to agree that this is just poor workmanship:

It really doesn't take much to skew a photo properly

My photo: Top centre

What's the origin of your name?

2011-09-22T19:49:00.001+01:00

It's of Hebrew origin and means "ewe" (not eww *tuts*) which is a female sheep. It's also biblical; Jacob's wife is described as being "beautiful in form and countenance". And, according to my mug:

Your natural zest for life enables you to charm and impress.

You expect the best from yourself and never settle for less (i.e. an OCD-ridden perfectionist).

You radiate an inner peace (boll***s), with a spirit that is bright (I think "dimmed" is more accurate).

Every relative and friend you meet, you positively delight (Sure....).

Ask me anything

Don't you suspect that you could eat a seagull if you had to? That'd qualify them as being edible...As for the hover thing, I can't do too much about that.

2011-09-21T01:30:00.001+01:00

Sure, but it was an "or" question, not an "If you had no other choice ... or ..." question. Well, I don't expect you to. I don't think anyone can do anything about it, to be honest.

Ask me anything

Fine! Pancakes or seagulls?

2011-09-21T00:43:00.001+01:00

Ooh, a toughie. Pancakes. Definitely. One, they're edible and two, seagulls do that terrifying "hover" thing.

Ask me anything

Tuesday 20th September - Single Parents and Breaking Hearts

2011-09-20T21:40:00.000+01:00

I have so many things to do I feel a bit flustered - like a headless ostrich.

Yes, I know these particular ostriches are not headless

I've written up a list but I don't know where to start. There's research and writing up notes for dissertation, publicity and events to attend for the society, gigs and cheesy parties to attend and more. I'm not complaining about being busy - I love it. But after a couple of weeks of epic laziness and Spooks boxsets, my body's beginning to feel the strain a wee bit. Ah well.

I'm also writing an article on single parents and their search for children. I should really disclose that this is within a St Andrean context i.e. academic families, academic incest, Raisin etc. etc. I'm struggling though. People don't like the idea of having their photos in the paper, advertising their academic loneliness and keen desire to have children. To be honest, if I wasn't writing it, I myself could be interviewed. After the mishap with my daughter (she already has a mother) I'm childless again. Hoping I'll be able to find a child at the Wine and Cheese evening on Thursday....

My son

This evening, I received the most bizarre message. Someone from primary school asked if I'm bisexual. (And I thought I was random....) I'd say it wasn't so odd if I knew the person well, but even if one of my close friends just spat that out, I'd still think it was weird.

Trying to understand why he had contacted me out of the blue to ask this question, he revealed that he had had a "big crush" on me since primary school, and was gutted that I "dated" (can you really date someone at the age of eight?) another boy. Apparently, and I do not remember this at all (then again I struggle to remember anything from last week) I asked the two boys to get me a ring, and whoever got me the nicest one, I would choose them. As you would expect, the other guy gave me a nicer ring and so I chose him.

I can't believe I was like that ... Then again this photo says otherwise:

Who wouldn't give a pretty ring to cute little me?

Monday 19th September - Freshers' Week

2011-09-19T21:51:00.001+01:00

Today was painful. I had to be in town for 9am to fulfil my duties as a committee member. Note, I normally get to bed around 4am which made trying to sleep early a feat in itself. Also, once I had managed to doze off, I had a brain wave about my dissertation and had to get up and jot down my thoughts. The only thing that made my morning bearable was wearing my gown.

How to wear the academic gown at St Andrews: (L-R) First year, Third year Arts student, Possible second year

Now in my final year, I've come to the end of the academic strip tease. The idea is that as every year passes, students are slowly let their gown slip off. Wearing it differently each year has been fun, but the way fourth years wear their gown is certainly my preferred option.

This isn't a reflection of my incapability to wear a gown properly. I do know how to dress myself. Honest. Although friends would argue I look like I get dressed in the dark. It's debatable.

Catching up with everyone was good fun. So was meeting freshers - all wide-eyed and innocent to the corrupt world of pedantic tutors and strict footnoting. I envy them. Anyway, I spotted someone I knew at the subject talk. I was the only person in my year from my last school to come to St Andrews, so to see someone I knew made me instantly go, "Such a small world!" We briefly spoke about our time at sixth form. It seems nothing has changed since I left. Teachers are still as wacky as ever, moulding young bright minds to make future politicians and ... caricature artists.

Also, I came home with a daughter! Huzzah!

P.S. I didn't just steal a child, I adopted one ... An academic one. Still don't know what I'm talking about? Click here.

EDIT: I came across my daughter's blog, and it seems she's not my daughter after all *sighs* Back to being a single mother.

What is the square root of 100 divided by 0?

2011-09-19T16:00:00.001+01:00

At first glance I thought "Why the hell is someone asking me a Maths question?" till I realised that no one really knows what x divided by 0 is. I'm just going to say ... infinity?

Ask me anything

Friday 16th September - An Evening of Wine and Discussion

2011-09-16T14:30:00.000+01:00

Hello, I've been busy ... watching the boxsets of Spooks in time for the last series on Sunday.

I also enjoyed an evening of fervour discussing the future of the Church with a friend's dad. It was interesting to see that he felt it needs to be more progressive. According to him, if the Church doesn't change, more and more people will leave. He argued that the hierarchy are completely out of touch with the laity and that without change, the future looks bleak. My friend and I on the other hand were in disagreement with him, saying that the Church is the Church because of the 2,000 years of tradition, apostolic succession, and biblical authority it has behind it. The usual apologetic waffle.

Thank God I was in good company though as I'm sure I said things that most faithful papists would consider "controversial". It was probably the wine talking.

Article in the Westminster Record

2011-09-13T21:30:00.002+01:00

This is my second article in the Westminster Record. I had a lot of fun writing this parish profile, probably because it was on my local parish.

It's one of those rare pieces where I really felt like I was able to inject a little bit of myself in the article. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

Here's the text:

On a pleasant afternoon I am welcomed into the presbytery by acheerful Fr Shaun Church. The parish priest of Kensal New Town, Fr Shaun hasbeen at the parish for four years and has just recently celebrated the 10^thanniversary of his ordination to the priesthood. The parish is located in thenorth of the borough of Kensington and Chelsea, and is only a stone’s throwaway from the famed Portobello Market.

The Oblates of St Charles in Bayswater, who recognised a need toserve the people in the local area, founded the mission in Kensal New Town in1858. In the same year the St Mary’s Catholic cemetery in Kensal Green, wherethe priests had chaplaincy responsibilities, was opened, hence the dedicationto the church. Our Lady of the Holy Souls is a unique title and is the onlychurch in the UK to have this dedication. The church was considered a centre ofprayer for all the faithful departed, with marble tablets positioned on thewalls detailing the names and dates of death for the departed.

Attuned to theneeds of the faithful

Sitting in the study I asked Fr Shaun about the religious communitieswithin the parish. “We have the Sisters of Mercy, both of whom are veryinvolved and have been for many years: Sr Margarita Cunningham and Sr AngelaMoroney,” he said. “Both were headteachers at the local primary school, StMary’s. Sr Margarita is parish sister and coordinates most of the catecheticalprograms. She also teaches religious education for children not in Catholicschools. Sr Angela helps with RCIA and is spiritual director for the Union ofCatholic Mothers (UCM).”

For a church that looks small on the outside, the 600-strongcongregation represents a diverse and spiritual community, highly attuned tothe needs of the faithful. Telling me about the numerous parish groups, FrShaun said, “The Missionaries of Charity are very committed, working beyond theparish boundaries. They run a soup kitchen at St Pius X, St Charles Square andhold a summer camp for the children in the parish of Kensal New Town. We havethe UCM, a prayer group and Lectio Divina group who meet every week. There’salso the Legion of Mary who meet on a Wednesday and the Divine Mercy who meet twiceon a Tuesday.”

Giving thechurch back its dignity

“What about the parish itself? What do you like about it?” I asked.“I love the sense of community and that it is very ethnically diverse,” hesaid. “Although this is the case, within the community there is a great senseof coming together. There is a cohesiveness and wholeness to it. I also lovethe church; it is very beautiful. Unfortunately in the late 1950s and early 60smany of the beautiful treasures that we had were sadly removed or covered over.We have just been given permission by the Diocese to undergo a majorrestoration of the church, which we’re hoping to begin in September. We want totry and give back some of its lost beauty, to reflect what it once was and giveback some of its dignity. It’s a very exciting prospect to hopefully see someof it restored.”

In 1882 John Francis Bentley, the same architect responsible forWestminster Cathedral, designed the church building standing today. Built inthe style of English Gothic architecture, it is the red-bricked façade thatinstantly attracts my eye. As part of the restoration project the front of thechurch has recently been given new life, a reflection of the generosity andefficaciousness of the parishioners.

Showing me a photo of what the church looked like in the 50s, I cansee the lost beauty Fr Shaun speaks of. The rood screen that once stood betweenthe sanctuary and the nave was ornate in every way, now with only the altarrails remaining. The reredos (the decorated screen behind the altar) stretchedto the ceiling, showcasing 30 grandly painted panels, along with a largecrucifix atop of the rood screen.

I was thoroughly excited to see the architectural plans for therestoration project. Showing me blueprints and a sample tile for the sanctuary,one cannot help but look forward to see what the church will look like withsome of its original beauty restored. Taking me around the church, Fr Shaunpoints out some of the treasures that have been uncovered. Up high above theentrance to the church is a Latin inscription of Psalm 24. Exposed aspreparation for the restoration, one can see the original Gothic paintworkpeering through. The original Bentley pulpit has been uncovered along with the paintedwooden altarpiece which was found disused in the sacristy. “Some of the workincludes replacing the existing lighting with something more sympathetic to thebuilding. The emphasis is not on creating something new, but in trying toregain what was present in the original design. We hope to uncover the rest ofthe De Profundis inscription,re-paint the church and install a new altar – and that’s not even half of it!”he tells me with great enthusiasm.

The priesthoodof the faithful

Approaching the question every parish priest anticipates with apprehension,I ask Fr Shaun about any challenges he has experienced in the parish. Notafraid to answer he replied, “I am aware that we are lacking in a generation ofpost-confirmation parishioners. It’s difficult keeping young people engagedwith the church and with their faith.” I go on to ask him what can be done tochange this. He said, “I want to help the parishioners take more ownership oftheir faith. Most usually look to the parish priest and religious forleadership. This is good but they need to look at their own priesthood, thepriesthood of the faithful.”

I am intrigued by this suggestion and ask Fr Shaun if he couldelaborate a bit more. “We need to be as open as possible to listening to youngpeople. We need something that will help nurture their spirituality,” he said. “Itmust be Catholic but it must also appeal to them, one example is World YouthDay. Events such as these plant small seeds in the hearts and minds of theyoung. Who knows what can come back and grow once they return to their parishes?The priest has to be a part of this process but the willingness must come fromthe people themselves. Ownership belongs with the young people.”

Leaving Fr Shaun I am encouraged by the generosity and concern of theparishioners, both for the restoration of their church and for the faithful oftheir community. I have no doubts about the strength of the Catholic faith atKensal New Town, and I look forward to seeing the church restored to its originalbeauty.

Tuesday 13th September - First Semester

2011-09-13T11:41:00.000+01:00

This is my timetable for the first semester. Two hours. TWO.

What was the best concert you went to?

2011-09-11T22:28:00.001+01:00

The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Hyde Park in 2004. And their supporting act? None other than the Godfather of soul, James Brown!

Ask me anything

What do you plan to do after you finish your degree?

2011-09-11T21:53:00.001+01:00

I'm convinced that I'll go and end up being a caricature artist in Leicester Square. I'd like to go into journalism, maybe become a religious correspondent for one of the broadsheet newspapers, but I'll just have to see how it goes. That said, I think I'd be quite content being a carpenter or something where I get to be quite "hands on".

Ask me anything

Sunday 11th September - Crying Chapels and Children

2011-09-11T21:44:00.000+01:00

I have to say, I was quite pissed off this morning. I entered church and seeing that it was quite full went to go and sit in the crying chapel (where parents with young children sit so as not to disturb other parishioners during Mass). Now, I'm not sure what to make about crying chapels. In theory they make sense but I think they just foster separation. I'll come back to this later.

Anyway, I sat down and a steward came up to me.
Steward: "There are plenty of seats at the front."
Me: "I'm fine here thanks."
Steward: "Well this is for young children."
Me: "Well if parents want to sit here then I'll move."
Steward: *shaking his head, tuts mumbling* "Yes but it's for children ... You shouldn't be sitting there...." *walks away*

My patience and anger was seriously tested. If I wasn't in church - and in the presence of a young boy - I think I may have told him to p**s off. I felt like the steward was judging me and he didn't even know me.

Someone said to me: "I have friends who sit there (in the crying chapel) because of chemical sensitivity or because they struggle to be around people; that guy needs to back off!" People have their reasons for sitting where they do, doing what they do, and saying what they do. If parents with children came, naturally I was going to shift.

It's not the first time I've clashed with this guy. He once insisted that I go and sit down (I was standing at the back) because I was blocking the way for the procession. Bulls**t. There was plenty of space. He just wanted everything and everyone to fit into his image of what a perfect church and a perfect Mass should be like. But guess what? Hardly anything is perfect! Not only does he like to tell people what to do but he thinks he's the exception when it comes to talking during Mass. I'm sorry but don't tell people to shush and then go and have a conversation with the person next to you.

To make things worse he completely ignored me during the Offertory. To be honest, I felt really crap about myself at that point. There were three adults in that crying chapel - the size of a small shed. There was no way he did not see me. Even if I wasn't going to give a donation it was incredibly rude to not offer the collection bag to me.

I'm tired of people like the steward I encountered today. It's a pretentious kind of attitude I deplore in churches, and it's something I notice more so in Catholic churches than any other denomination. True, most religions can be quite snobbish and pompous when it comes to comparing themselves to others, but Catholics like to look down on others in a way that doesn't do the Church any good. It's a sort of "well you're not a regular/one of us so we don't need to treat you the same" kind of attitude. It's sad really, but there is usually at least one person like this in every Catholic parish.

Back to talking about crying chapels. Children are children. They're going to make noise. Ok, so you want to pray in silence, but show a bit of compassion. What did Jesus say about children in Matthew (10:13-16)? If Jesus could put up with noisy children, I don't think it's asking much of parishioners to do the same. Do you not think the parents of loud children are embarrassed enough that their "little angels" are wailing during the Eucharistic doxology? They don't need you tutting and judging them from your pew at the front.

Surprisingly the boy I was sitting next to this morning was quite quiet. He was rather cute, sitting on the lower beam of the pew with his feet sticking out, resting his chin on the middle beam listening to his grandmother sing. Quite a beautiful sight. That said, if he was making dinosaur noises as his tyrannosaurus rex mauled a little car, I would have bit my tongue. It's not my place - nor anyone else's - to tell someone to leave church or go sit in a corner somewhere because their child is being a child.

I struggle to feel comfortable and welcome in the parish up here, but being the only Catholic church in St Andrews I don't have much of a choice. Behaviour like that of the steward's this morning is more likely to prevent someone from coming to God than if one were to read The God Delusion. We worry about secularisation and new atheism, when the trouble is much closer to home. It's guys like that one at Mass today who push people away from the Church, not those people protesting out on the street.

Saturday 10th September - Possessing the Patience of a Saint

2011-09-10T14:00:00.000+01:00

One of my flaws is my lack of patience. But to make this, about the size of a small bottle of water, takes the patience of a saint.

I spent two days meticulously cutting and sticking 150 little pieces together, finishing around 3:30am last night. It's not that bad actually.

It's all in the detail

Who knew paper could contort like this?

I nearly gave up making this. This silly, little chimney is made up of 16 pieces!

Ok, so I had a little help

Thursday 8th September - Moaning, Modules and Matriculation

2011-09-08T22:18:00.002+01:00

Postcolonial theology. I don't even really know what that is. Sure its theology after the colonial period, but what exactly does that mean? To be honest, I don't really care, but it's the only feasible module I can take in first semester. There are biblical studies modules but I gave that up in third year. Sad, but it just was not my forte. Even my enthusiasm to study Greek was not enough.

Doesn't Greek look fun?

Proof that enthusiasm can only take you so far in academia

I have high expectations of myself. Always have. Not only did I not enjoy biblical studies but I was utterly hopeless at it. I know it's essential to a theology degree but I want to graduate with a pass! Writing 3,000 words on Deuteronomy 6:4 (the Shema) was gruelling, just as trying to do a presentation on a hermeneutical method was. So much so I made a youtube video instead ... I still maintain that getting 98/100 in my Old Testament module at A-Level was a fluke.

I'm looking at maybe doing a module in the School of Philosophy instead. Christian symbolics: Creeds and Confessions doesn't sound very interesting, and I'm a bit bored of the Westminster Confession now. Postcolonial theology, you already know, is something I'm not even remotely interested in. But in the School of Philosophy, the modules are so enticing! There's one on Language and Reality, and even the Philosophy of Mathematics.

Matriculating online and I saw this. Meh. I owe the government more than that.

I'm beginning to wish I did a joint degree. The modules offered this year for Philosophy Honours students are not only in abundance, but even the titles are enough to seduce one into signing up. Here are a few:

Contemporary Philosophy of Language
Paradoxes
Philosophy of Creativity
Philosophy of Religion - My heart just skipped a beat reading this. I'm transferring. Screw postcolonial theology. I'm doing this module instead.
Life and Death
Philosophy of Art - When I saw this I thought "Damn, I'm going to have to choose between this and Philosophy of Religion", but it's ok. It's not available this year *phew*
Advanced Logic - I loved drawing logic trees.

It's a bit difficult going into the final year of a degree that you've somewhat lost interest in. There's only so much coasting one can do. I guess I'm lucky in that something about theology clicks with something quite natural inside me. It's hard to feign enthusiasm though. I could go into why and how things have changed but I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it at least three times somewhere on this blog.

Anyway, that was all a bit ... meh. I'll leave you with this random photo:

This is what happens when there's nowhere to hang one's crucifix. Desperate times calls for desperate measures.

Wednesday 7th September - Back in St Andrews

2011-09-07T21:34:00.000+01:00

Second night in a row I've not slept very well. This time it was more the smacking-my-head-against-the-wall/rolling-off-the-bed reason than anything else.

It's not a good sign when you search "monastic spirituality" in the online library catalogue and no directly relevant books appear. So much for starting work straight away.

Seeing as my intentions to start reading had failed I resorted to, well, thinking. It took three hours to pass till I realised the need to eat. Three hours spent in intense pensiveness cannot be a good thing, surely?

Anyway, I'm going through a Damien Rice phase. I find his songs express what I'm feeling more than any words I can write here. I've had this particular song on repeat all day.

St Ignatius Bobblehead

2011-09-07T13:38:00.000+01:00

This is me attempting to vlog. Well, not really. It's nothing really and I'm not sure about making a habit out of it (I detest videos of myself), but I had to share with you the amazingness of St Ignatius bobblehead's actual bobble.

Tuesday 6th September - Migrating for the Last Time

2011-09-07T13:05:00.002+01:00

I didn't sleep last night. I wanted to, I like my sleep. I was also quite tired, but my overworked brain was having none of it. It wanted to remember, to digest, to understand and futilely try and rationalise.

Note, what I want is completely different to what my mind strives for. When I refer to "I" I'm talking about my soul. It's a complex thing the soul. I don't really have the brain energy to try and explain what I mean exactly but this quote by Dostoyevsky sums it up well:

"The living soul demands to live, the living soul isn't obedient to the laws of mechanics, the living soul is suspicious the living soul is reactionary!" ~ Crime and Punishment

The train journey was longer than I would have liked. Not temporally, but six hours feels more like a whole day when you spend it staring blankly out the window.

I don't know how my friends put up with me. I must sound like a badly broken record as I repeat to them so many things that they've heard before. I'm lucky to have them, I really am. Despite giving me sound advice that any sane person would agree with, I always - always - go off and do what I want to do. Which, 98% of the time, is the opposite of what they've suggested.

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Had a long, deep conversation with a friend that lasted just over four hours (that's nothing compared to our record - a whopping eight hours). I think the conversation lasted so long because he was trying to get me to see things I can't. Trying to assess my life from an Archimedean point is impossible. I can try and see what people on the outside see but I will never understand. There's living and there's observing and they are two very different things.

He made assurances that I'd like to believe but just can't. My problem is that I'm blinded. And I struggle with that. I really do. It must sound mad but I can spend a good couple of hours, just sitting here, mulling things over. When it comes to this one part of my life, this one aspect that seems to permeate anything and everything, nothing makes sense. I usually think things through, weigh up the pros and cons, think rationally, practically, and more importantly realistically. But this is something else. I can't fit it into a box, it's not black and white, nor is it even your standard grey.

I've been told more times than I can remember that I think far too much for my own good. This blog is testament to that.

Monday 5th September - Speechless

2011-09-06T16:45:00.000+01:00

For that one moment, I closed my eyes and the world was perfect.

Sunday 4th September - Skyride

2011-09-04T22:41:00.001+01:00

I'm walking like a penguin my legs ache so much. The last time this happened I had walked ten miles. Despite this I really enjoyed Skyride.

The band were pretty good. At one point I thought, "I think I'll stay here instead of cycling"

Skyride's an annual event held in London and other cities in the UK, where major roads are closed to all motor vehicles so cyclists can reclaim the streets as their own.

It's quite a sight seeing hundreds of cyclists of all ages - children as young as 7 on tricycles! - racing through an empty tunnel, usually gridlocked with cars, whooping like mad and ringing their bells.

Today I was reminded how mad I am on a bike. Before I even arrived at the event I fell off into traffic. Did a car get too close? No. Did I hit a pothole? No. I just idiotically clenched my breaks for no reason! A normal person's instant reaction is "I'm going to get knocked over! / Have I broken anything?" My reaction was to burst out laughing. As I picked myself up and continued towards St James' park I was still smiling at how clumsy I was. If that wasn't bad enough, at Skyride I was snapping photos with Hector (my camera), weaving in and out of the crowd. I honestly think I like the near-death feeling. So exhilarating!

Wally!

After lunch the heavens opened and I was soaked through. I was naive enough to think I wouldn't need my waterproofs in London, so left them in Scotland. Waiting for the rain to die down I was pressured into entering a drawing competition. It was at the kids' stop. The stewards tried to make me feel better by saying it was open to "all ages". Yeah right.

Anyway, tea and When Harry met Sally at a friend's to end a good day. Hopefully tomorrow I'll walk like a human being again.

LOLsaints

2011-09-04T19:59:00.002+01:00

I had completely forgotten about how in bad taste - yet still amusing - some of the captions on LOLsaints can be. I posted something about it a long time ago, and found this gem recently:

Minimalism and Philosophy

2011-09-04T19:43:00.002+01:00

These are quite neat. I like these two. Click here to see the others.

Quote

2011-09-02T20:43:00.002+01:00

"Most people write to remember things; I write to forget."

Friday 2nd September - Paper Modelling

2011-09-02T17:35:00.001+01:00

I am SUCH a child.

I've not yet unpacked from my holiday and I already need to start packing to migrate back up North. Going through my rucksack I've found this build-your-own-model of Casa Batllo. I am ridiculously excited about making it.

It'll be like the days when I knew I'd be spending more than the normal class hour in the workshop. Just like some people make model aeroplanes and others have model kits of Lord of the Rings, I like making things. I love building things. It's amazing what our hands are capable of.

London -> Paris -> Barcelona

2011-09-01T23:16:00.001+01:00

WARNING: This is going to be a long post. There will be, however, a sufficient amount of photos: pretty landscapes, silly faces and various tourist hotspots to compensate for the amount of text. Continue at your own peril (of boredom).

NB. Text in [ ] are random thoughts. Why I include them in my posts I don't know. None of it is "necessary" but then again, none of it is unnecessary. Thoughts are thoughts. I just choose to share mine with all you random (but lovely I'm sure) readers.

All pizza cutters should be like this one

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Friday 26th August

I'm usually pretty anal when it comes to planning and being organised, but this trip has turned out to be one hell of a logistical nightmare.

When booking the tickets I thought the train to Barcelona would depart from the same station that the Eurostar arrives at. Wrong. Turns out the departure station is a half hour taxi ride across Paris. Fantastique!

My French is appalling. I'm convinced the taxi driver knew this as he looked upon me with confusion as I said "Gare d'Austerlitz, s'il vous plait" in the harshest, non-French accent you can imagine. French is such a luscious language. Soft on the ears, silky and incredibly entrancing. Tagalog on the other hand can be described as cacophonous and incongruous - especially when compared to English. Hence why putting on a French accent is completely alien and unnatural to me. Ho hum.

Paris is a place that just exudes charm. I wish I could stay and wander around but Barcelona beckons. Perhaps another time.

Arriving at Austerlitz, glancing at the clock I noticed my brother and I only had ten minutes to board our train. Now in normal circumstances that would be plenty of time, but when you can't read a single sign and have no idea where you are going, panic quickly sets in. Frantically searching for even just one word in English, I finally spotted something I understood - even if it wasn't in English - Barcelone.

On the Knight Train

The Renfe Elipsos trainhotel is a cross between the Hogwarts Express and the Knight Bus from Harry Potter. The corridors are narrow - allowing space for two people to momentarily spoon as they try to squeeze past, or one person who has eaten too many burgers. In the evenings the beds magically (see what I did there?) appear from one of the walls. It's like a slumber party but without the fun nor the good company.

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Saturday 27th August

There's nothing quite like watching the sun rise over the east coast of Spain and eating a typical European breakfast consisting of omelette, prosciutto, croissants and fruit.

I was surprised to see that this was the only reading material in the hotel lobby

The hotel is nice enough. I don't intend on spending much time here, so as long as I can put my bags down I'm content ... It seems I spoke too soon. We arrived at 9am, check-in was supposed to be at 12pm, but that ended up being 2pm. So what did we do? Wander around, naturally. My brother grudgingly tagging along, I went to see Casa Batllo (one of Antoni Gaudi's architectural triumphs), Plaza Catalunya (a little like Trafalgar Square) and La Sagrada Familia. Upon returning to the hotel we were finally shown to our room ... which had a double bed *awkward* So I returned to reception - heavy bags in tow:

Antoni Gaudi's Casa Batllo

Me: "We booked a twin room but we've been given a double.... *pointing to my brother* Es mi hermano."
Hotel Manager: "¡Ah, no lo se! Lo siento."

I wouldn't mind so much if that was the first time we've been mistaken for a couple but it's not. The amusement has worn off and now it's just uncomfortable.

Sometimes I think my brother's mentally challenged

I've discovered that speaking a bit of Spanish seems to lull natives into a false sense of security, one where they think they can embark on a proper conversation with me, when most of the time, after the first few sentences I have to ask them to slow down or ask if they speak English. It's the accent. It's good, but the content is lacking somewhat.

These are brilliant. There was even one that said "Filipinos - Chocolate con negros"

I think this proves my earlier theory

I like the acknowledgement that obese people need to sit near the front of the bus.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. Seeing as my brother and I travelled by train, we had to wait till the afternoon for the rest of our family to arrive. However, due to cancelled flights they didn't arrive till late evening. Naturally I had a siesta before going off to venture down La Rambla and experience its nightlife. Did you know that there's a Museum of Erotica down there? The entry is free and you get a free drink ... Yeah, you're right, it's probably really tacky. I should avoid it at all costs....

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Sunday 28th August

Went on a tour of La Sagrada Familia. Wow.

La Sagrada Familia

Look, there's a snake. How subtle of Gaudi! (If you don't understand my comment, the two statues represent Judas giving Jesus the "kiss of death")

All it takes is a "de" and the lift would take on a whole new role

I never fail to feel incredibly emotional when I am exposed to magnificent ecclesiastical structures such as Gaudi's.

Unfortunately, shortly after touring Sagrada Familia I began to feel a bit ill. Well maybe more than a bit. Burning up in an air-conditioned restaurant, ice rapidly melting on my neck and forehead, the room spinning and the imminent feeling of passing out was not fun. If my family didn't pack me into a taxi when they did I probably would have collapsed. Whoops.

An example of how most family photos turn out

Spent the next three hours experiencing a pain I had never felt before. After dozing off I felt like I needed to make up for the lost hours, so I went to venture around the Gothic Quarter (my family continued gallivanting during my 'siesta' upon my insistence).

Initially I got lost - all the streets look the same in that part of town. I finally found the Cathedral, albeit the south entrance that lead into the cloister. I quite like when churches are relatively empty. It's in the silence that one can fully appreciate the beauty of one's immediate surroundings.

The interior of the Cathedral

Continuing to Mirador de Colom I remembered that I could take a boat ride gratis with the tourist travel card I had bought. Sitting on the boat I received a message from my family, sending their wishes for good health and suggesting that maybe I can join them later at the port. Huh? I was at the port. I quickly replied telling them of my location and that they should join me on the boat ride - no reply. I was about to give up and enjoy the scenery when I spotted something - a head of unnatural blonde hair. It was my brother. Looking like a fool I stood up and started waving. First came the looks of bewilderment, then realisation and then the what-the-hell-are-you-doing-there? look.

Joined by my brother - the others didn't fancy it - we set off. What. A. Bore. I got to hear the Catalan version of 'Mack the Knife' with an accordion accompaniment though, so that was something....

How can one even attempt to be graceful with menus this big?

Walking back up La Rambla we stopped to have dinner, though it felt more like we'd stopped at a bar looking at the size of their Sangria glasses! Meh, it was "nice" nonetheless.

I do love Sangria

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Monday 29th August

Went to morning Mass at the Cathedral. I'm not sure how people normally cope in warmer weather (it was 29 degrees), because boy was it hot in church. No one with bare shoulders is allowed admittance into the church - understandable - but it meant I had to wear a hoodie *she says fanning herself in desperation*

Today was beach day. I'm not really a beach person but I do like having a tan. I can't sunbathe though. After only a few minutes I can't stand the "skin cancer crawling along my skin" as a friend once put it.

No photoshop skills here. This little sign was already on the beach

It's never a good thing when something is announced over the tannoy. "Jellyfish ... peligroso ... cuidado", when you hear these words you should really think twice about getting into the water. As expected, the announcements were made in various languages. English: "Beware the jellyfish. If you are allergic don't swim" (or just have someone ready to relieve themselves on you nearby).

Gangsta

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Tuesday 30th August

[I think my brother gets lonely. He often just talks to me about these games he plays, and all these American shows he watches even though I'm clearly doing other things or tell I him I don't understand. Right now, sitting on the train to Paris, he's telling me about shrink rays in Shangri-La used by Nazis *shrugs*]

Today is museum day (I'm losing my ability to form structurally interesting sentences). Waking up on my last day in Barcelona makes me a little sad; I wish I could stay longer.

Panoramic view from the top of Montjuic

Trust us to leave it to the last day to go to Montjuic ("Jew Hill"). I'm just glad I've finally made it up there. To the west of Ciutat Vella (where La Rambla and Plaza de Catalunya are found), Montjuic is home to the Olympic park. Practising my Spanish oral, every lunchtime without fail in Addison Hall, I never thought I'd actually be able to visit the Parque Olimpico de Barcelona in real life. I didn't think I'd enjoy the Olympic museum but some of the objects they have there are quite interesting. They have all of the Olympic torches on display, along with photos from each of the countries that have ever hosted the games.

After making sure no one saw us I realised there was a security camera in the corner of the room. I gave it a little wave as I left

It made me realise that ours will be rubbish. Barcelona had great traditional dress costumes, just like Beijing. But what about us? What are we going to wear? Morning dress? Also what is with our logo? Supposedly innovative and modern, it's more like the creation of a one-year-old who has thrown up and re-arranged the pieces of bile. Our mascots aren't any better. They're like a bad amalgamation of the aliens from The Simpsons and Futurama.

I look like I'm crying in this photo

Anyway, back to talking about the Olympic museum, there's this machine that measures how high you jump so you can see how you compare to your favourite track and field athletes. My brother managed 37cm, me 35cm, my gran 7cm and my godmother 9cm. Now when my mother had her turn she "achieved" 6cm. Not only was that appalling but when the next person tried to have a go on the machine, it didn't work....

Afterwards we went to the Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya (MNAC), which houses all sorts of nice arty things I got to indulge my eyes on.

Art work in the Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya (MNAC)

[I'm writing this waiting for the train guard to put down our beds. My brother's been talking for the last half hour. To whom I'm not really sure. But wait, he's just paused.

Him: "My mouth's dry. So what's going on with you?"
Me: "Can you not just sit in silence?"
Him: "No"
Me: "I quite like the silence"
Him: *pause* "I'll tell you about these other games..."
Me: "Oh please, no!"
Him: "... So there's this game with Joel...."]

He wishes he was Canadian

How fantastic! I've just been told our train is going to be an hour and a half late, meaning that we'll probably miss our train. Now I have everything crossed that I won't have to pay for new tickets considering the huge cock-up I went through with the last tickets. Oh you don't know about that? Well, in short, I booked the connecting trains with only 13 mins between them, not realising I would have to travel from Gare du Nord to Gare d'Austerlitz. "Didn't you try to exchange them?" I hear you ask. Well I did, turns out that they were non-refundable and non-exhangeable. So out of my account disappeared half a month's rent. Go on, you can say it: stupides / idiot / ¿Que estabos pensando? / silly moo.

Ugh. Two and a half hours delayed. Well there's no chance of me catching my connecting train now.

Taking a taxi from Gare d'Austerlitz I was ready to embrace the chance to practice the little French I know. However, when asked where I needed to go, I very nearly said "Gare du Nord, por favor" *sigh* It's tough being multilingual ;]

Ok, I'm safely on the Eurostar now. I have to say, I was a wee bit worried that I'd be stranded in Paris - seeing as I didn't have enough money to buy new tickets. It could have been worse though I guess, I could have been stranded in Dundee *chortle*

[I've had the pleasure of sitting in front of young children. Cue the expected screaming, fighting and the standard kicking of the back of my chair. I'm thinking terrible things readers. I won't go into detail as you'll think badly of me but the vivd scenes involve a large frying pan.]

Anyway, long story cut short, after a brief - almost pleading - explanation we were quickly ushered on to the next train bound for London. To think I'll be back in my wee East Coast town in less than a week is hard to believe. Where did the four months go?

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I couldn't upload all 600+ photos so ~~cluck~~ click here if you want to see what London should really look like in the summer.

BriFili Stating

Friday 13th January - The Fear

Saturday 7th January - Revision and Old Stuff

Friday 6th January - On a post-dissertation high

Sunday 1st January - Celebrating New Year's Eve, the Spanish Way

Thursday 29th December - Da Vinci Exhibition and Portobello Market

Family at Christmas

Saying "Good Morning (Afternoon)" - My Way

December Backlog

Oh yes, I meant to say, I've finished

Sunday 25th December - Merry Christmas

Snippet

Saturday 24th December - University Christmas Carol Service

Monday 12th December - St Nicholas

Sunday 11th December - Feeling Christmassy

Sorry, what?

Saturday 10th December - Resting

Wednesday 7th December - Dissertation Woes

Sunday 4th December - Christmas Lantern Launch

Saturday 3rd December - Pretending to be a Journalist

Thursday 1st December - Karen Armstrong on "The Point of Religion"

Saturday 26th November - St Mary's College Society Ball

Raisin Weekend (20th - 21st November)

Friday 25th November - Respite

Friday 18th November - Photo Booth + Long Hair =

Monday 14th November - Holy Cross Abbey, Whitland

Saturday 12th November - Aching and Silence

I wonder if there's a way to disallow anonymous questions, at least? :)

Thursday 10th November - What's with all the random people who use your question box as a means to comment on your posts? Haven't they heard of @replies? :P *annoyed*

Wednesday 9th November - Mission Dissertation

That blog post *is* coming....

Monday 7th November - London from a Bus Window

The Many Faces of Lego Man

Wednesday 2nd November - Book Review

Monday 31st October - Happy Hallowe'en!

What is your favourite flavour of ice-cream?

What lifts your spirits when life gets you down?

Friday 21st October - Can there be happiness without sadness?

Thursday 13th October - Finally, the wait is over....

Sunday 9th October - Still Here

Ignore Me

My Week

What's the origin of your name?

Don't you suspect that you could eat a seagull if you had to? That'd qualify them as being edible...As for the hover thing, I can't do too much about that.

Fine! Pancakes or seagulls?

Tuesday 20th September - Single Parents and Breaking Hearts

Monday 19th September - Freshers' Week

What is the square root of 100 divided by 0?

Friday 16th September - An Evening of Wine and Discussion

Article in the Westminster Record

Tuesday 13th September - First Semester

What was the best concert you went to?

What do you plan to do after you finish your degree?

Sunday 11th September - Crying Chapels and Children

Saturday 10th September - Possessing the Patience of a Saint

Thursday 8th September - Moaning, Modules and Matriculation

Wednesday 7th September - Back in St Andrews

St Ignatius Bobblehead

Tuesday 6th September - Migrating for the Last Time

Monday 5th September - Speechless

Sunday 4th September - Skyride

LOLsaints

Minimalism and Philosophy

Quote

Friday 2nd September - Paper Modelling

London -> Paris -> Barcelona

Thursday 10th November - What's with all the random people who use your question box as a means to comment on your posts? Haven't they heard of @replies? :P annoyed

That blog post is coming....