Learning

 Hello everyone. I hope that you are all ok. I have one eye on Crufts, which is disappointing as usual. I am convinced that there is some kind of conspiracy against Jack Russells. It's pure class warfare, I tell you. 

Anyway, March is upon us - we had two days when it didn't rain last week, so things might be progressing a bit. Or - as someone I follow on the Internet said this week, "The weather will move backwards and forwards between  Baltic and Phil Collins" (No Jacket Required). Thank you. Thank you. Those of a certain age who appreciated the joke. This has been a very normal week this week. I have very little to bring you - no wildebeest wandering across the horizon or me being awarded skiing medals at the Olympics, but this is my week.

We went out in the evening a couple of times this week. I cannot apologise enough - it is uncouth behaviour, I know. On Monday, we walked down the road to the Everyman Cinema to watch the film Sentimental Value. After being fleeced a MASSIVE amount for a glass of wine, we sat down to watch and noticed that, at the beginning, it said "Made by BBC Films" and, sure enough, within 24 hours, you could watch it free on the telly. Actually, I think it is on Amazon Prime. It's definitely worth a watch if you can.

Then, on Tuesday, we went to the theatre to watch a dance collective, don't cha know. Actually, we detoured to "Spoons for tea on the way there, although the less said about that,  the better. The dancing was based on original Irish dancing - loosely. I think I was expecting Riverdance with an accordion. I was immediately disabused of that notion when the curtain pulled back to reveal a child lying on a table and a squeezebox player wearing a ram's head. Then, another curtain pulled back to reveal twelve dancers with black hoods covering their faces. THEN, someone gave the child a bag of crisps and what looked like a Fruit Shoot, which she happily devoured. Then, there was a lot of dancing - 80 minutes worth to be precise. They were obviously astonishing dancers, but I still couldn't tell you what it was about. HOH fared better than I did by just relaxing and going with it. Also, he is more naturally arty - farty than I am, so that helped him. He said it didn't necessarily have to be about anything. I'm more of a start, middle, end kind of person. Philistine that I am.

Messy church again on Saturday. It was about the Prodigal Son. So all the craft was heavy on the pig vibe. I got off lightly because my table made biscuits (see above), which turned out well, although there was a lot of clearing up. On the table next to us, one of the young people was saddled with a game where children had to put their hands into pigswill to identify different things. (When I say pigswill - it was lentils, peas, etc., but it still smelled weird).

I did get a live 21st-century Bible lesson while we were clearing up. The lady who I was on the table with me (who I like a lot) disappeared when the clearing up started. Someone went to find her and came back and said - she's praying with one of the Mums, and I rather ungallantly found myself thinking "Convenient that someone needs saving when the cleaning starts." That's not really like me - but I was having a lot of trouble getting fondant off my sweatshirt." Then  I realised who I was being. I was being Martha! - and I needed to pack it in. Then the nice boy who had been up to his elbows in pretend pigswill and a rather beautiful Indian young woman came and helped clear my table - along with HOH - who had been "on the door" and that annoyed me even more because there's nothing worse than people being nice and helpful when you are determined to be a ratbag but there you are. I went home and had a crisp sandwich and felt a lot more at peace with the world. I don't know about you, but I am old, and yet I am learning all the time about what is and isn't important. Hopefully, one day, I will be able to recognise it a bit quicker than that. Have a good week.

As they continued their travel, Jesus entered a village. A woman by the name of Martha welcomed him and made him feel quite at home. She had a sister, Mary, who sat before the Master, hanging on every word he said. But Martha was pulled away by all she had to do in the kitchen. Later, she stepped in, interrupting them. “Master, don’t you care that my sister has abandoned the kitchen to me? Tell her to lend me a hand." The Master said, “Martha, dear Martha, you’re fussing far too much and getting yourself worked up over nothing. One thing only is essential, and Mary has chosen it—it’s the main course, and won’t be taken from her.”