Is that something? No not really.

 Hello Everyone. I hope that you are well. We are freshly returned from eating humble pie at my Mum's. For the past couple of visits, she has insisted that a woman keeps trying to make her jump by putting her head around the bedroom door and shouting. We have been calmly saying - "Mum I can't see anyone doing that. Why would they?" You will be unsurprised to learn that, during this Saturday's chat about whether it is still stealing to take things from people's rooms when they can't remember what they own,  (We thought that it was - Aged Parent - not so much.) we were all surprised by the sudden entrance of a lady who, on flinging open the door shouted "BOO" before running out again. Well, I say surprised, I had to be surgically removed from the ceiling. Comfortingly, Aged Parent appeared to be unconcerned and remarked "I hate her" before opening a drawer under the sink to proudly reveal a gentleman's singlet - size XXXL which she confidently explained definitely belonged to her. 

For those that are wondering, this is absolutely an ordeal for us - of course it is, even though my relationship with my mother would probably optimistically be described as "complicated" but she is never distressed, is eating well and is clean and cared for. I'm not sure that we could ask for much more at this point. We do our best. 

Christmas approaches everyone. Courage Mes Braves. We can do this. HOH and I have reached the stage in life where we struggle to think of things to tell the children to buy us - heaven forfend that they should actually come up with anything themselves. I have come up with the quite brilliant suggestion that I could buy HOH a changing towel for the beach for his sea swimming escapades. If you are a person of a certain age, you may remember these towels which were wildly popular along the length and breadth of the country - from Blackpool to Torquay. Basically, they consisted of a towelling tube with a drawstring closure at one end. You step into the towel and pull the drawstring around your neck - or your waist if you are feeling racy (not if you are a lady obviously - this is not France) and then you can get changed in complete privacy. At the moment, HOH is trying to get changed on the beach, which has to be done very quickly in this weather - under a normal towel. This is obviously a challenge and HOH says that he spends the time praying very hard that God keeps everything under control and that no one else on the beach gets a sight of something they haven't bargained for. (Is it very disrespectful to imagine God saying "HOH, I am dealing with Putin over here. I really don't have time to sort out your beach towel issues?) Anyway. HOH has vetoed the towel idea. Pity.

We went to church today for a thank-you meal for those who help out in the Welcome Team, which was nice. I spent a happy quarter of an hour watching a seagull sitting on the window of the cafe tapping really hard on the window with his beak because he fancied soup with French bread. The lady we were sitting with said that some people she had invited had said they wouldn't come because it was just soup. I thought that was a bit rude. She said, "Well, you know..." I think she's ex-House Church. I think they are a bit loosy-goosy about manners.

Thinking about denominations. Communion. Since the Panny-D, we have walked forward and had it handed to us. This morning, a rail appears and people are going forward and kneeling, which is apparently what they used to do before the masks and unpleasantness. I mean, I'll do it - it's not something to pick a fight about but I do wonder - who or what are we kneeling to? The small metal cross? The lady who takes the tablecloth off? The table itself? People can get quite worked up about The Table. I remember a bit of a kerfuffle when I was in the Youth Group when one of the old people found out that we were serving Hot Vimto off it on a Friday night. But, as the man who had actually made it pointed out - it was just a table. 

In Pen Wicock's books about a monastery - particularly A Day and a Life, she describes the day-to-day rhythms of prayer and contemplation and crosses and statues are a large part of that. She makes a persuasive case but, I am from a deep Brethren background who regarded a cross and chain as an example of the crafty influence of Rome - to be guarded against at all times and, to be fair, there can be something very beautiful about plainness and a quiet bare room. You pays your money and you takes your choice I suppose. What do other people do? What works for you? Does it matter at all? 

Anyway, to lower the tone, we are off to London this week for a couple of days. Not doing much, just pointing up at Christmas lights and saying "Ooooh."  Looking forward to it. Have a good week.