God is Good

56 letters. There were 56 letters, not 17 as I was told on Tuesday, and I reckon at least 40 of those were from the church. I was misled. But God is good, and his people are wonderful.

Esther was super at the planning meeting, simply explaining what our children's work was, and how many kids come. The neighbours were lovely and kind, and those who came from church were so encouraging. Aled spoke clearly about the role of faith communities, and their recognition in society and law. I simply told of our gratitude for support from Kim Howells & the Archbishop of Wales, and how we had a letter from the Homeless shelter thanking us for our support. I spoke about how we cherish our children, protect them with all we can, and how we want the council to do the same.

Then councillor after councillor, starting with the redoubtable Mike Powell, added their agreement to our cause.

The RCT legal officer told them they did not have to consider child protection (both inaccurate and unwise) and the council unanimously voted against the proposal to turn the office next door into a drug unit.

We got our miracle.

Though, because they voted against the planning officer's recommendation, we have to go back to planning committee in four to six weeks' time and do this all again. So: we keep praying.

And we keep praying for CRI, who wanted to put this centre in this place. They want to help people, and I applaud that. I pray with all my heart that they will find the right site for their work in Pontypridd. And if there was anything practical I could do to help, I would do it.

90 Minutes

90 minutes till the planning meeting. Aled Edwards has come through - a genuine big gun on our side, a real answer to prayer - and we have a space for him to speak, thanks to Lesley Wilson who wrote in asking to speak, and has given her slot to him.

O Lord, please grant us a miracle.

Amen.

Till then - something glorious from the Vivaldi night to calm the nerves.

Please Pray

I'm asking for prayer. I've just been prayed for by my good friend JD and I think that at this time I would like to ask all regular readers here to pray.

We have a problem with a planning application going through our local council to put a drugs rehabilitation unit next to our children's centre. Normally I would be completely supportive of any initiative that exists to make people's lives better. I am delighted that we have had, over the years here, a slow trickle of people on different rehabilitation programmes. But putting a unit distributing methadone next to our toddler groups is something that I cannot stand for.

In a way, I am touched that some of the members here, some of the really committed and godly people, have not been able to get on board with my call to be firm over our children's work. But I guess I'd ask them to think what they are saying when they ask me if we are "here for everyone", and perhaps wonder how often my kitchen gladly plays host to people with drug problems without comment or judgement. And it might not be a coincidence that the Home Office, the Welsh Assembly, the Archbishop, the chairman of Cytun & I all agree that drug rehabilitation programmes are good: putting them next to kids is bad.

The local council has ignored legislation that protects children. I have taken it to them repeatedly, showing them a remarkable range of neglected laws from Cardiff and Westminster; the Archbishop penned a magnificent letter of support. You'd think that would make a difference. It might.

I was pretty devastated this afternoon when I learned from the council that no more than a dozen church members had written in to them about this, though losing this battle could endanger our whole children's centre. (I got a stunning email today from the head of children's services in RCT; it made clear that such a loss was a conceivable result of this planning application - and totally acceptable to him.)

I can't give you the whole picture - it's too convoluted; but I can ask you to trust me and to pray. To pray what?

That God does something wonderful that blesses everyone. It's always right to pray that everyone is blessed.

What that might be I am not sure.

In my mind, possibly I see that the people who are proposing the drug unit might suddenly find a better site. One we can support. One that does not threaten our children's work. One that allows more work in our community amongst more vulnerable people to happen, not one that makes a choice - this or that. I don't want to say they can't or shouldn't come & do their work; I do want to pray they don't come to their currently proposed site, because it puts an unacceptable risk on the children over whom we have care. We want to grow our work in an open and welcoming environment, not with security locks, fences and fear.

And I want to pray that whatever happens, happens by Thursday afternoon so that these guys retract their application for planning permission - or that the Planning Committee of the local council rejects it. This will take a miracle. But as God is God, so I ask you to come before him with me and I would rather seek a way to bless as many people as we can.

Don't send comments: just pray. I won't be adding comments to this. This church and its work in this place is my life, and I can't abide the thought of what we have to lose here. I just ask you to join me in praying for something wonderful, and that this planning application as it stands not be granted, though at the moment it seems inevitable.

Thanks.

The Shack

My new cleaner has almost finished her first shift. I know, but in the old days, there were a whole host of full-time servants here. I think I am quite restrained.

And you should try living in a shack like this.

O - you thought this was going to be about a certain book, did you? A little novel that makes God out to be like Guinan on STTNG? Right. Well, for those of you wondering about the latest must-read Christian publishing phenomenon (that doesn't have my name on the cover), Gary Smith puts his thoughts here. And for something at more of a remove, Ben Sternke on his blog has a recommendation for Michael Spence's one paragraph review of Roger Olson's 'Finding God in the Shack'."

Becky, my new cleaner, is still trying to find anything in this shack.

Let it Snow!

Dances with Snow Dogs...
The much awaited sequel to Dances with Spaniels. Can you tell what the weather here has been in the last day or two?

Baroque Videos

Here is the finale from the Double Cello Concerto at the weekend's concert with the Welsh Baroque Orchestra. A request from Mark! So there you go, we aim to please.

And then a final word for now - Amen!

Baroque & Roll

No - not another reference to the guy in the White House...

This is a first post about the Welsh Baroque Orchestra and their wonderful concert of Vivaldi Arias and Concertos from the Ospedale della Pieta here at St Catherine's this evening. (There will be more to come.)

Fantastic!

Such a privilege to host these guys, such a delight to hear them play and make wonderful use of our acoustic in a totally different way to our usual musical fare. Violin concertos, cello concertos, flute - as you can see - and then arias from Juditha Triumphans, a Psalm and another vocal piece that escapes me because my programme was snaffled!

However: I do have DVD, and once I have found some time I will post excerpts here. They were great, and it just goes to show that we don't only do jazz & worship songs! The Hallelujah and the final Amen from tonight's show will certainly be finding their way here & onto our church website vey soon.

We had a decent crowd: Pontypridd isn't, I suppose, a Vivaldi kind of place. (What is a Vivaldi kind of place? Venice.) But I hope we get this great period orchestra back, because they are excellent, and it is great to have an orchestra like this coming out of the capital and playing in venues like ours. A real treat.

PS - Just made it before midnight. So talking about music means it's not just Van der Sar breaking records today. 19 is the most postings I've ever done in a month.

Van der Sar beats Death

Edwin Van der Sar, veteran goalie, today beat Death.

The announcement came up during the online match comments on the BBC website as Man Utd played Everton as follows:

1905: It's official. The 72 minutes are up and Edwin van der Sar has beaten Death. The United keeper reaches 1,104 minutes without conceding a league goal, beating the previous mark set by Reading's Steve Death in 1979.

Not quite eternal life then. But twelve games without conceding is a phenomenal achievement. Which makes the next game the 13th in the run.

Does anyone know if Dutch goalkeepers are superstitious?

Nine Holes

As I was leaving the house this morning I discovered why I keep a collection of unwanted umbrellas at the bottom of my coat stand: Mary had had hers destroyed yesterday by a drunk in the library, and as she told me this (on her way to the library today) I was able to offer her two good-as-new ones to replace it. She was delighted. She then asked where I was off to.

"Oh, just to visit one of our old people who is house bound," I said.
"Ah, that's nice," she said. "You do that kind of thing do you? How lovely!"

I confessed Gill did most of it, but as she is on Safari in Uganda...

And the person I was visiting this morning is John Murphy. John was warden when I first came here, and my total hero. In a period where no-one really got what I was about, he supported everything I did and watched my back assiduously. When I see him now, (and he's just a week shy of his 85th birthday) we talk of the church, its life, its people, its glories, its problems, and I confide in him freely. I learned to trust him. He is a good man.

But I was in for a surprise today, which I think would have quite shocked Mary. John and I had nine holes of golf.

On the Wii.

I've never played on a Wii before, so the old man had to take me through it. He loved my incompetence. We had three practice holes first - well, they would have been for real, but somehow at fourteen shots over, I managed to wipe the game... Terribly unfortunate. So we began again. And this time, I said, "I am competitive you know."

John looked at me disdainfully. "You don't say," he replied.

The first hole was still his, a birdie to a bogey. But it was closer. I hit a par at the second - whilst this time he struck a bogey. At the third he had a torrid time and went four over, which put me in the gleeful lead - a position I never thereafter gave up.

"Oh dear," I said, "that was difficult."
"That you best pastoral manner?" he enquired.
And then when he hit the bunker at the sixth I asked, "Have you played golf before?" to the man who has lived half his life walking between greens.

It was a good job I'm half his age.

Pastoral visiting has never been so much fun! But should the pastor beat the parishioners? Oh well, I'll ask Gill when she gets back from those mountain gorillas. She'll know the answer. There's probably a part of her famous Visiting Course - "Wii believe".

Parradine/Milhous

Frost/Nixon is the second excellent film I've seen this year. This clip is for the original interviews, the real Frost/Nixon encounter. But the latest Ron Howard movie is engaging, gripping, well-acted and enjoyable. A good old fashioned double-hander, with two fine actors occasionally chewing the scenery.

So: 2008 - 0 (1, if I'm allowing QoS); 2009 -2. And we are still in January. Tonight I had a second look at Slumdog Millionaire - and it was still fantastic. Glorious. The archdeacon was off to see Parradine/Milhous, so I shall have to see if he enjoyed it.

Impressive (2)

Oh my. If you have been reading the comments on the previous post, forget Derek's attempts with the golf club - somebody just tried with his Golf. Or rather, his Skoda. The full story is here.

The BBC have video of the rescue services bringing the driver out of the car in the church roof here. Which takes a little of the humour out of it - though when you read the story, recorded in typical BBC-speak, that smile comes back:

Police said the vehicle was travelling at high speed when the collision happened in Limbach-Oberfrohna on Sunday.
The 23-year-old driver missed a bend in the road and drove through a railing before careering up an embankment and flying 35 metres through the air.

Am I missing something, or is that from the script of Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines?

Health warning: this is not to be attempted in Pontypridd under any circumstances.

Impressive

More wisdom from JD - though this is a bit different! Watch and enjoy. And don't get any ideas about the clock on our spire.

Agricultural Wisdom

Time again to give some column inches to wisdom found over at Farmstrong. JD has been opining for a while about the need for worship to centre on story, not text - that is, to bind us into the whole story of God, not into a preacher's 'theme for the day' (he has some great song suggestions for awkward themes though, and if you read back a couple of posts, I think you may laugh out loud). Creation, fall, redemption, resurrection, and the return of the King are ideas that JD wants to see repeated throughout our weekly worship so that we get the big ideas in our regular corporate dealings with God.

This is good stuff.

In a recent post, I posted a comment because I felt the initial post had a sentence (part of a quotation) that was apt to be mis-read, and you know how pedantic I can be. In part of his reply JD wrote:

My big contention is that we become narrated into the Story via worship that truly remembers the biblical narrative in a living (think anamnesis) Hebraic way of remembering. Jesus is our way in. Consider the implications of Baptism (the drowning of our plot and the resurrection into his plot) and the Eucharist, the continual nourishment on his Body and Blood in the power of the Spirit.

I guess you may have to read a lot of his stuff to get this, but then come back and re-read this summary. It is brilliant. I mean, brilliant. Fantastic theology. So good I want to claim it as mine - well, it is, I mean, I teach this stuff too, but perhaps not as succinctly or in these words (it's a while since St Catherine's had anamnesis mentioned in that precise word on a Sunday, though we get the concept every darned week).

I just had to post it in this form for now. When I have time I will post again, with a whole work-up of what this is about. But I LOVE it as a practical theology of how we design the service of worship for the corporate body as we encounter the living God in order to be more fully his people, filled with his Spirit and equipped for the service of the world.

A Second Inauguration

The Inaugural Concert at the BBC National Orchestra of Wales' new concert hall, the Hoddinott Hall, was held in Cardiff last night. This is a remarkable venue - it took half a Scandanavian forest to construct, and it is really a concert studio, because it works as a rehearsal and recording space for the BBC NOW, with seats for 350 people.

Yes. 350 people. A symphony orchestra and chorus, and 350 others get to listen. Well, potentially millions get to listen via the radio and the web, but 350 in person.

So - last night. The great and the good of Wales assembled. And I was in row C. (Presumably not being in the great, I scrambled in on the coat tails of the good). I have to say - it is a remarkable venue. The acoustic is warm and clear, it blooms without cloudiness, and then you get hit by a surprising clarity. I wanted to liken it to a Chandos recording, but at times it had the fullness of Decca, and then the clean-ness of Phillips. Where you sit affects the balance - I was too near the front; the piano was startlingly forwards in the mix. Next time I shall go further back. The photo is from the very back of the hall, just to give you an idea of the immediacy of the space - I snook my camera in and shot this pic before the evening began.

Anyway. The programme was designed to show off the hall and the orchestra - are you ready?

We began with a festival overture: Alun Hoddinott's Badger in the Bag. Can't hum that one? It's a riot of Celtic bombast, and a good joyful start. I didn't really hear it: I was listening to the occasion too much, feeling the glory of the first notes played before a paying crowd in this newest of Concert Arenas. A place beginning to yawn and breathe and stretch its limbs and come alive. Wonderful.

Then most of the band left so that the 13 percussionists could play Edgard Varese's Ionisation. Whistle along now! Actually - it was the epitome of squeaky-burpy 20th Century music. It genuinely squeaked and burped. I think someone was playing the vacuum cleaner. There were definitely sirens. And clacking things. And drums that played rhythmically without ever producing rhythm. I did the decent thing: I felt we were supposed to laugh, so I complied.

Next, the double basses and brass and a bit of woodwind came back for a world premiere! Simon Holt's St Vitus in the Kettle. It was sort of like the "Birth" section of Prokofiev's Lt Kije, but without so good a tune or any harmonic progression. The composer (who wore his best jeans and open necked shirt for the occasion) came forwards for our applause.

The first half finished with Beethoven's Choral Fantasy, which featured the superb pianist Llyr Williams and the BBC National Chorus of Wales. It's Beethoven. It has tunes and harmonic progression. Call me old fashioned, it put me in a good mood. Llyr Williams looks uncannily like Adrien Brody, whom you may remember from The Pianist, and he does a stunningly good line in meaningful looks at the audience at the end of long runs. His playing is beautiful - flowing, glorious, Beethoven as Beethoven should be.

The second half was split between two pieces: first, the Sibelius violin concerto. This was my highlight of the evening. Baiba Skride, a Latvian in her mid twenties, was stunning. And she played well, though occasionally I worried that she would have enough of her bow to finish the piece as she kept tearing off loose strings. And the piece is glorious and was gloriously played - all that Scandanavian angst resonating with Scandanavian forest we were sitting amongst.

Finally we luxuriated in Ravel's Daphnis et Chloe, the choir wordlessly joining in, the orchestra pulsating, the extremes of dynamics playing with the hall's acoustic and our ability to cope.

The BBC NOW was better than I have heard. Conducter Thierry Fischer seems to be personable and totally in charge. I loved the whole thing. The whole thing. Chatting with the people around me was great, and catching up with Byron Jenkins was super afterwards.

If you are here in South Wales, then go to the BBC NOW site and see if there's anything you fancy. It's cheap and worthwhile. Treat yourself!

Aled's Day

Today was one of those days that people will always remember: On the 20th January 2009 I was in the Nos Da on the Riverside when Aled's book West Wing Wales was launched. And we stood round a table of fried chicken and popcorn and watched Barack Obama be sworn in as 44th President of the USA, and listened as he gave his first speech as such.

Looking around at the crowd, for a while I let the gently rising voice and its pleasing phrases and cadences escape my notice: it was the Welsh faces and their rapt attention to the screen at the end of the room that caught my imagination. This is what words can do. This is what hope can do. This is what people want - and even if, after the words had stopped and the flow of hope was, for a moment, quenched, and the politicos and campaigners and hacks and hangers on dotted through the crowd tried to hide their emotions again as they faced each other, dreams had lived a while in the silence of that space. I hope that dreams come true; they deserve to; they need to.

Aled answered questions about his experience in the States taking part in the Obama campaign, and spoke movingly of how that experience should affect political campaigning in Wales. How hopes should be listened to and encouraged, and the sin of cynicism written out of our lives. How people need to be helped to see what is possible and then granted a path that takes them there, rather than be told that change will never come and they are always going to be trapped. Those who are trapped seldom unlock their own cells, but they are still in prison and still need freedom.

For a while I wished I had taken my camera. And then I felt it right I had not. In that bar, in that mixed and "secular" crowd, I was a part of something particularly holy.

And I will not forget this day: the presenting of a leader of the Free World who can speak and plant dreams in the heart of peoples.

Aled's Day.

Be Happy

From The Times: Kaka reveals that he turned down the opportunity to be the world's richest footballer after praying about it. "I believe I have made the right choice," he said. "To have gone to Manchester City could have been a great project but in the past few days I have prayed a lot to understand what the right team would be and in the end I have decided to remain here. I don't want anything else, I just want to be well and be happy."

Well then it's a no brainer - go to Man City & be happy? "Come on, sunshine," says the Lord, "It's Man City we're talking about. And they've just bought Craig Bellamy; do you really need help with this one?"

Seriously: here is a young footballer, a notoriously greedy breed, offered the riches of Croesus, and turning them down - because he prayed, and family and home and being happy meant more than money. OK - he has more money already than most of us will ever see, but he also gives away a huge amount to lots of good causes. And on Radio Five Live I heard the other day a discussion that basically put the future of football in this kid's hands. Madness & greed and big business and Middle Eastern sheikhs on the one hand - and the hopes of ordinary people that the game could be about the game and not just about the pound signs on the other.

Kaka, bless him, prayed. And the more cynical hacks of the media look on in disbelief as the big money is actually rejected and the beautiful game lives to fight another day.

When was the last time you faced a really juicy temptation and did a surprisingly good thing instead? It's amazing how many people get blessed when we pray and value the things that are really worth something: "I have prayed a lot... I just want to be well and be happy."

Hot Water

After Cafe Church last night, I was asked if there would be more video of Dances with Spaniels. Turns out not; the boy was in a gentler mood, and when I got home, was waiting faithfully like this for His Master to return.

Those of you who are more observant may notice that elsewhere on this page is a good representation of Matty's bed. This is not what it looks like. But who could be cross with such an image?

Plus, no need for a hot water bottle.

Fingers of Fudge

A reunion 20 years in the making. The original Five Fingers of Fudge recording was made in 1989, and now, for Chris & Ruth Holmwood's 40th Birthday Bash, we finally put "musical differences" aside and re-formed.

The role of Andy Jack was lovingly re-created by Jez Bennett, with the Revd Dr Michael Ward, foremost CS Lewis scholar of our age, recreating the role of Spud, a role he of course first made his own back in the late 1980s. Chris & I are playing ourselves. And OK then...

Here we are at that 1989 concert. Andy on the left, Chris seated (and the only one vaguely recognisable), Spud next (yep, the self same Revd Dr Michael Ward) and y.t. on the right. Sigh. All that hair.

15 minutes rehearsal in 20 years. Made no difference. Except - age has taken its toll in other ways than hairlines and waistbands; we had to sing down a whole tone. And that was the first time we had ever toned down a performance in our lives. Ruth's father has spent 20 years asking for us to sing at his church; now he'll spend 20 years asking us not to.

Happy birthday Chris and Ruth! O yes - the other song (in which 2 single clergy compare the merits of their existence with 2 Islamist royalists). And a visual joke for asthmatics.

Speculation

This is a terrific film. Terrific. If you haven't seen it, go right now. Slumdog Millionaire is simply the best film I have seen in a long time - from its visceral, barnstorming opening, to its gut-wrenching feel-good ending, it is a terrific film.

I was asked, "what kind of film is it?" and I found the question hard to answer. There is a love story, but it's not a romance. There is a police investigation, but it's not really a crime story. There are gangsters, but it's not a gangster film. Rags to riches? Maybe, but the riches are not especially the 20 million rupees on offer.

What kind of film is it? A really good one.

As a TV quiz show winner, it did strike a chord of realism with me. The reason Dev Patel knows the answers to the questions the slimy quiz master poses him lies in various experiences of his life which we see unfolding during the course of the film. For me, I think the first question that took me to my slender Weakest Link winnings was a similar experience - though no gangsters, police cells or strangely attractive Indian dancing girls were involved.

The night before I was due to drive to London to film the show, I discovered that the collar on my blue shirt was frayed. I couldn't possibly wear it on TV. But to win that show you have to wear a blue shirt - so no-one notices you against the set. At the time my finances were particularly weak (I was still paying off the debt of my Cambridge year) and buying a new shirt was not in my budget. Plus, the only place open at that time was Tesco. So I went to the store at Upper Boat, found a light blue shirt, stared hard at its £3.50 price tag, and said to myself: "Well, you have to speculate to accumulate."

Cut to the studio. Anne Robinson all in black stands behind her swivelling podium and rounds on me in the first set of questions. No-one wants to go out first. "Marcus," she snarls, "you have to what to accumulate?"

On the video you can see me smile slightly as inwardly I am fingering my cheap Tesco shirt and screaming out buy one of these.

"Speculate," I reply.

Watch Slumdog. It's a fantastic film. And you'll see why that memory came back to me.

Blessings

Blessings come in many shapes and sizes. I found a little video clip on my laptop of Matty playing in the garden; it made me smile, and I confess that I have missed the dog inordinately this trip. There is a Springer in resort, and he makes me think of mine every time I see him.

I guess Gill losing her cat just before New Year has also had its effect.

On Saturday night I had a super evening with Paul and Sarah Parker, pictured here from church on Sunday evening, with Maggie Gerber and I, as I took the opportunity to bless their marriage. They were married in Interlaken last September, just after St Bernard’s was closed for the autumn break, and so we promised to bless them as soon as the church opened again. It was a real delight to keep that promise, and to make a special moment for them and a few friends.

Earlier Saturday I had taken time with Jutta van Eeghen Fischer (formerly Launhardt – she asks me to point this out as last year she was blessed when after I mentioned her in my blog, someone Googling her came up with that report and picture, and then managed to get in touch with her; so now I am pleased to repeat the service with extra info!). It will be two years this week since Ernst died. I always find time spent with Jutta deeply touching, because we speak deeply of the way the Lord deals with us in all sorts of situations. And then we prayed a blessing on each other.

The Goldhill mob have arrived in Lauterbrunnen, and though St Catherine’s will not be making use of their fine services this year, it’s good to hear they have a good Welsh contingent from Glenwood, and if not to see St Catherine's at least to see St Catharine Morris, here celebrating her birthday.

At church on Sunday I met a lady who had heard me preach here three years ago and can still remember what I said. I don’t know if my sermon was really worth it, but I tell you – that lady was a real blessing to me, a true encouragement, and a gift amongst many during what has been a full but wonderful weekend.

Capped, of course by seeing on the web that Man Utd beat Chelsea 3-0. Happy days.


Then today, Monday, my final full day in Wengen for now, was spent with a group from the Ski Club following Maureen around the slopes. My final run was down one of the many Lager runs (honestly, but Lager does have an umlout): this particular one lies directly under the chairlift, and looks really scary as you ride over it. I've been dying to do it all week, and as I came down it at lunch time, I loved every moment of it. An exhilerating way to finish. Fantastic. A great blessing.

Now I'm hoping that the Heisse Marroni man will be in town at 4pm for one last time. It's a Monday, so it's only a slight chance. But it would be a nice way to round off the day.

Any chance, Lord?

Downhill Only

The DHO (“Downhill Only”) is a British ski club here with which I have a long connection; as I recently commented, I married the rep’s son seven years ago – and as Sacha’s bride, Lisa, drew up to St Bernard’s in a horse-drawn sleigh, it forever changed my perception of a “white wedding”. Paul and Maree Zvegintzov have been good friends since then to me in my stays here, and it is with due sadness that I mark their retiring from the DHO post here next month.

Paul’s successor, Sheridan, and her trainee, Rupert, persuaded me to ski with them yesterday, and I had a terrific time, skiing well past my usual sedate speeds and on runs I often ignore. Today we went on runs I always ignore, and upped the tempo. I did have a moment or two of panic, and got lost briefly, but actually it was a fantastic trip and I am delighted to have spent the last two mornings this way.

Sheridan and Rupert, together with Maureen, from the Ski Club of Great Britain (different to the DHO) and her husband Peter and I have been eating together this week in the Belvedere. Food maybe not as good as the Belle Vue – company excellent! And one evening we came back to my flat for a while, and let the conversation wander on.

The pleasure of this place is both in the beauty of the mountains, the thrill of the sport, and the joy of the friendships renewed year in year out. Supper with Maggie Gerber and Karen Jones (at Karen’s – which makes it my turn again next year) was wonderfully restoring, as Karen is always a good host. It was nice to see Andreas too, though his tales of Swiss music students were a mix of very funny and very depressing, his enthusiasm for his gadgets (watches and a remarkable CD player called a Geneva) was catching. I love that enthusiasm about him – even when it is aimed at saying he doesn’t have enough of it. He gets enthusiastic about how little enthusiasm he has. We should all have such passion about life!

Proof

Just to show that I do occasionally ski. Really. This is a trip down the very first run I ever did - and it's still one of my favourites. I love the trees, the snow, the light, the mountains peeping through, the silence of the world - and I always imagine this music, by Prokofiev, as I glide along.

Plus, at the end, is a restaurant with the world's best apple fritters.

Next: a short video of me actually evangelising...

Happy Drei Koenigs Tage!

Though (obviously) there weren’t necessarily drei, and they really weren’t koenigs.

Yesterday I got round to putting my skis on. Familiar runs – Mannlichen a couple of times, then over to Kleine Sceidegg, and down to Wengen. Nice to feel my legs working, and some semblance of technique in place. Perhaps a fastest first day, and certainly a safe one. I started with the bit at the top of the red at Mannlichen which always scares me – it rolls as well as falls, and it’s the combination of the two angles on the slope which gets me. But it was remarkably fine, and good to do first.

Back in Wengen, I bumped into Christoph and Claire Ebbinghaus. They had been in church on Sunday evening, and Christoph had recognised me from leading worship at one of the Wycliffe/Regents Summer Schools a few years back in Oxford. He pastors a Presbyterian Church in Northern Ireland, and after hot chocolate at Rocks Cafe, we then all walked across the valley from Grutschalp to Murren. Beautiful, but cold! It was lovely to chat of our fellowships, and our vision for what God has called us to be a part of. I think his people are blessed to have him and Claire lead them through these days.

On Sunday evening, on the pretext of thinking about the Wise Men who worshipped the infant Jesus, I had preached on Romans 12.1-2 (six verses less than I had set Stewart Franklin, though of course he had the option to settle on what he liked; I really only touched on Romans 12.1) as a way of defining worship. Funny, every time I come back to Romans I see something new. First time I did a long teaching session on Romans at St Catherine’s I found my great exposition of Righteousness (right relationship with God); second time, I found its rightful counter-weight in a balanced understanding of Sin (the broken relationship, and the things of brokenness that come from it). And in an almost throw-away line on Sunday night I suddenly encapsulated the core of all that teaching into three words: sin, righteousness, and the thing that enables the journey between the two – sacrifice.

Sacrifice, not as in giving something up – a theology of loss; nor as in appeasing an angry God in order to make him happy (like the prophets of Baal tried to do); but rather sacrifice as in the Old Testament understanding of “lifting up” the best of creation to the Creator in order to demonstrate that the greatest things of this world are nothing in comparison with knowing him. We hold the things of the broken order up to the God of restoration, and in this healing act of worship, this sacrifice, there is a sign of the Sacrifice that will bring the healing of all. “I, when I am lifted up, will draw all people unto myself.”

What mercy! And, in view of such mercy, Paul urges us (Romans 12.1) to offer our whole lives, not just a restricted part, a restricted understanding, a limited selection of acts or songs or deeds as an ongoing and living sacrifice: Christ has written the hymn, and we are called to sing it. This is worship that makes sense: not loss, not appeasement (what travesty), but singing Christ’s salvation’s song after him.

And perhaps our worship too may draw others to the life that is therefore more and more?

Today is really quite cold. Not much skiing for me. But here are some snowflakes on my jacket sleeve. Thought you might like something gratuitously pretty!

Matt Who?

I guess we'll find out. Sounds like he has a good theatrical background - I mean, they have cast an actor, not a face, despite his lack of years. And though I have never been a fan of a younger Doctor, I suppose I should reserve judgement at least until I have spoken to someone who might have taught him English...

And then till we see the chap do his thing. After all, what did any of us know of David Tennant really? And how terrific is he? And how glorious that we do have four more episodes of the best of Doctors so far.

Is it a sign that you are getting old when someone who is 903 looks so young?

Happy New Year

Well, getting to Wengen was a bit more of an adventure than I’d hoped for. I knew flying EasyJet was a risk...

Though to be fair, it wasn’t exactly their fault that the snow in Geneva was so bad that whilst we were in the air, Geneva airport was closed. So we were diverted to Lyon, where we waited (on the runway) for four hours till Geneva re-opened. Which would have been OK, apart from the further four hour train journey I had to Wengen, and now I had no train times for that journey as I’d only printed out the morning schedule. At least we had made it to Switzerland in time for me to be able to get to Wengen the same day.

(Waiting for my bag at the airport, having sat patiently for hours with nothing to do on the plane, I turned & saw Simon – Matty’s vet! He has a place in Chamonix and was on the same flight. Remarkable, though of course going through my mind was that if anything happens to Matty whilst I am away Jane & Teg won’t be able to take Matty to see him...)

Part of the deal being chaplain for two weeks here in Wengen is that the Tourist Office provides evening meals in one of the local hotels. Week one – Hotel Belle Vue. Really excellent food, and of course night one was Sylvester – the Swiss name for New Year’s Eve – so it was a very special meal, beginning at 8pm (when I arrived) and lasting till 11.30pm. I genuinely lost count of the number of courses. Quail, foie gras, lobster, steak, and the most amazing dessert buffet remain in my memory – as do the two wonderful French-Swiss families sitting next to me who insisted that I should join their table for the night: Antoine, Caroline, Jean-Yves and Francoise were the parents, and there were six kids, the eldest of which can only have been around ten; all the kids stayed up all night, and all were wonderfully behaved, playing in an adjacent room between courses and returning for the food. These were families that knew how to eat together!

It snowed beautifully that night. Gloriously picture book night-time snow. Childhood dream weather.

And in the morning? Sunshine and blue skies and perfection. I pottered about, eventually leaving the flat and going up to the church, where I worshipped for a while before finding the wonderful Maggie in Central Sport. Great to see her! So good to come here and find lovely friendships. I wandered up to Chalet Breithornblick and found Jane and Paul as well, which was also a delight, and will spend more time with them tonight. They are such wonderful people and always an encouragement. A quick dash into town found the DHO hut open, and familiar faces there – always a pleasure to find Paul Zvegintzov.

I spoke to Gill on the phone. There is sadness in Florida: Sammy the cat died. Ben loved that cat. They buried him outside, and put a little St Francis on the spot. O, how I feel for them. There is nothing that can take away the pain of losing a pet. I hope they know how much God’s love touches them at times like these. Truthfully, though the full pain of losing Charlie has subsided, I still shed the occasional tear, now, nearly six years on. I still miss him. I wish I was there with them. But Gill knows my heart is there, and my prayers, and Lord I beg you comfort them today. Please.

Back in Wengen, after supper, we had a group from Oak Hall in church, with a really nice New Zealander speaking to them about letting God love them and carry them and work through them. Then I found my way over to the Falken where Maggie was with Roger Scoones (here on a short break, but doyen of Wengen chaplains), having drinks with some friends, so I joined them there.

The first Bible passage I read this year was Isaiah 60. The whole thing struck me freshly, how the Lord brings restoration to those who need it, how he changes the hard times to glory, how he blesses his people, and how the whole thing shows his grace and his glory, but in particular it was the words, “I will make peace your governor and righteousness your ruler” that stayed with me.

I often feel that peace is a visitor; one I welcome, and then miss for a while as I struggle on with life. And though I preach about righteousness till I am (and everyone around me is) blue in the face, the truth of living in that right relationship with God and trying to live that out with those around can sometimes be – less than easy?

Recently I spent time with an old person who was trapped in a character flaw. They had been a certain way all their life, and now in very old age, though they could see the problem, they could not even bring themself to want to change or to accept that God might help them. Often I have noted that in old age, people are as they were when young – but more so.

When I am old, I do not want to be waiting for peace to visit; struggling to live in right relationship but truthfully fighting frustration or anger or fear or a thousand other things. So I have been praying that the Lord would help me get these things more sorted now. As sorted as they can be, at least, in my life. Know what I mean? I don’t want to pretend that I live in heaven now and that everything will be perfect tomorrow because I said a prayer today.

And then I read those words: “I will make peace your governor and righteousness your ruler”. I do not know a timescale or a mechanism, and I do not have a technique or a plan, but I have a God who hears my prayers and answers with promises that I will trust.

Happy New Year.

Thank You

A confession: this year has not all been sweetness and light. For example, at one point, I even posted a blog that somebody took the wrong way and thought was about them (it wasn't) but it was symptomatic of an awkward situation that something less than a molehill became something more than a mountain.

So as I look back at the end of the year, I would be less than honest if I said that there were no regrets.

And then something happens that blows all that out of the water, totally humbling me, and re-writing my whole take on the year. What happened?

Christmas.

Not just from a theolgical, reflective, "Love came down" so let's get everything in it's place kind of way. No: I mean, from an experiential this Christmas way - this Christmas happened.

Not since I was a kid, and perhaps not even then, have I been the recipient of so many gifts from so many people. So many tokens of love. So many small and not-so-small (and one or two downright large) gifts from people who told me that they wanted to express their thanks for something they have received from me this year, or just their best wishes towards me. And wide-eyed and slightly astonished I have stood there, and let the gifts grow under the tree as Christmas approached. But it wasn't till Thursday afternoon when I actually opened these presents that I sat in frank astonishment and gut-churned awe at the pile before me.

I've never had a Christmas like it.

And after the emotional journey of these past few months, which actually (quite rightly) almost none of you know about, the gift of that moment, and the sense of being in a community of love in this place - was a wonderful thing. A present I shall never forget. So for those of you here who read these postings: from the deepest place in my heart - thank you.

Nadolig Llawen

Merry Christmas!

The tree is lit, the presents are wrapped, the duck (ah yes, no goose and no turkey in the vicarage this year; actually, because I was ill for the Mothers' Union lunch I think I may have missed out on turkey altogether this Christmas) is patiently waiting in the fridge, and I'm almost ready with a Christmas morning sermon.

I hope the day finds you well. My Christmas Eve started appropriately pleasingly with Radio Wales again asking me to comment on a story about carols, and as they were broadcasting from Ponty market it was hardly a stretch to walk the thirty seconds across the road and get in a Wales-wide plug for people to come here to church tonight... Though if you were listening at 7.25am, I'm not sure you'll still be up and raring to go at midnight...

If you have clicked onto here because you got a Christmas email from me - thank you! What a kind friend you are to look at my blog. At least there are no stories of offspring achieving 23 A* results, or of me becoming a grandparent. I did write the first draft of a novel this year, get published in Korea, and travel to the States, Switzerland, Italy, France and Builth Wells. I still haven't learned to foxtrot or fly a fighter jet, and given what happened when I went go-karting, perhaps I shouldn't think of trying the latter just yet.

Musically, I continue to foist myself on an unsuspecting (and undeserving) public. The Quartet is fun, and getting to run the Big Band again was a blast. Then there was the choir, the kids, instrumental stuff and the odd solo item.

And I saw David Tennant in Hamlet, Michael Buble in Tampa, Bob Wilson in Gatwick Airport, loads of friends in loads of places (worth more than all the famous people in the world - well, except maybe DT - he was amazing - no offence), read all the Miss Marple books, loved series 4 of Doctor Who, quite enjoyed Quantum of Solace, got very opinionated about the Damian Green stuff in the news, and felt that perhaps the people who run Strictly Come Dancing should go to Florida in order to learn about how to do voting properly.

If I did see you this year: thanks for the time. If I didn't - here's to next year! The dog sends his best wishes.

But they are the second best wishes here: for friendship is always amongst the greatest gifts. A merry Christmas to you. Nadolig Llawen. Peace and glory, as the angels sang, glory and peace, and let's meet up again soon.

Infinite

I stood on my doorstep a clear New Year's night,
Watching the Milky Way dance through the icy sky.
This was a time to count all the stars in heaven:
Not one was hiding, playing, pretending coy semi-blindness,
And (like them, with them) I could see and see and see.

That pin-pricked dark remains still,
Locked forever in my remembering,
A galaxy entire in my mind's eye,
Neurons encompassing nebulae.

Which wonder is the greater?
The universe?
Or those numberless solar systems contained within me?
How can something so big be held by something so small?
How can God lie in a cattle stall?

Favourite Night

This is always amongst my favourite nights of the year: the annual Pontypridd Carol Service, here at St Catherine's.

I love a Carol Service. I read a lesson in Blackburn Cathedral in my school service when I was 12. I think my Mum has it on tape somewhere. That school choir did a terrific service, and the cathedral was (almost) always packed for the event. The one night that we were far from full was (I think) in my upper sixth, when there was a bad snow storm. The service went ahead, but out of a choir of 250 only about 30 of us made it - and so you can imagine the size of the congregation. But we had a great time!

A Carol Service is part of the magic of Christmas for me. We rehearse the story, going over familiar words and letting them weave their mystical power in our hearts and minds. Promises and unimaginable truths taking root and forming over aeons, hopes becoming reality, God becoming one of us, the infinite contianed in a feeding trough with the familiar attendant cast of shepherds, stars, wise men, angels and watching mother and stand-in father. But as we speak the words, that cast is no longer them; it becomes us. We sing the carols, and silently the stars go by over our heads and the wonder is re-born in us today.

A gentle call to a world far from God. People who know nothing of Jesus finding themselves inexorably drawn. Powerful magic. I love this night.

In the last couple of years I have particularly worked to make this a town event - a night for our whole community. We have readers from all sorts of local groups - the hospital, the golf club, schools primary and high, the police chief superintendent, the mayor. I give a short reflection at the end - a drawing together of strands; a playing of the melody of the night. This is a wonderful time to tell folk of Love come down.

Here's the choir, getting ready to sing a piece I wrote (all 6/8 and bouncy) and a Welsh lullaby; we also had the schoolchildren of Ysgol Evan James singing When a Child is Born and Feed the World (both in Welsh!), as well as Dan & Kirsty playing a super violin & guitar duet, Deck the Merrily, and lots of congregational carols - mostly traditional, though two were accompanied by MGQ (jazz quartet). All in 75 minutes. By candle-light and tree-light and with just a sprinkling of angel-light in the air.

Lord, thank you. As I write, there are one or two from tonight in my mind. Bless them, I pray. Shine on them. Let this not just have been a "moment"; and help me in all that this week holds be here for them.

Strictly Comparisons

Did you vote? Did you care? Tom & Camilla stumbled in the first part, but maintained their top rankings in the audience vote - & it turned out that the Great British Public were right, I think. This competition should be won by the best "showdance" (what the Americans call "freestyle").

T&C had that. The weakest link in a great final ended up being the best finalist and a worthy winner. An encouragement to all of us who feel outshone by those around us! Keep going!

And the old romantic within me (never far from the surface) always enjoyed his story - so desperate to do this that Tom moved his wedding day and postponed his honeymoon. Added to which, Camilla had been in two previous semi-finals... They even made me switch allegiance from Lisa and Brendan...

But: a little comparison. Get through the (overlong) intro. Be prepared for some familiar faces on the judging panel. What follows is the best showdance in the most recent American series. And T&C might not have had it their own way against Brooke and Derek.


What do you think? Pretty impressive, hey? (And streets ahead of anything else on that show.)

Sadly, I remain in total awe (and perhaps a little envy) of these people. I don't even know how many feet I have. But I'm sure they're all left...

Priceless

THIS is priceless. Priceless. It makes our efforts putting the decorations on the St Catherine's tree seem a bit less fraught...

We only spent an hour putting the thing in the pulpit (as opposed to the two hours we laboured with the monster we had last) and though I had fallen 12 feet off a ladder the week before, I resisted falling 20 feet on this occasion as I helped with the lights, tinsel, baubles and yes - the star.

But do click onto the Blue Peter clip - it's pure magic. It will make me smile for days; and that poor presenter will have nightmares for a long time, because he will never be allowed to forget it!

Cafe Church 2

So we did it again. More people came - as David Carver said they would, though I didn't believe him! Actually, half as many again. And with a couple of excellent songs from Matthew Truelove, lots of minced pies and all the twelve trees in church lit up, it was lovely. (You can of course see TL singing here. Enjoy!) We had some friends (not regular church attenders) there - which was super - and Matthew Jones back from Uni on his 19th birthday. So we sang 'Happy Birthday', which he secretly loved.

In content, this is not a million miles away from a usual Sunday evening.

In feel, it is a small departure, but small things can be significant: and given the way that folk are responding to this form of worship, I think we shall let it run on. January 18th or 25th for the next one.


P.S. Day 17 of the lurgy. On antibiotics. A bit better.

Feelin' Blue

Day 9 of the worst cold I have had for a couple of years. Feeling miserable. Spent 5 days in bed - but eventually you have to try & get on with things. The church have been great - Aled took the 8am on Sunday, Gill was up all night Saturday in order to preach at the 11am (and she was super), and TL up & offered to lead worship at the 6pm. Fantastic.

But this week is really full on. And I am feelin' blue.

Christmas CD Review #3

Now we are talking! OK, I guess with the Tony Bennett, the best comparison I can give you is Diana Krall's Christmas Songs from last year. And Diana's was far better. An easy-listening, swinging Christmas croon. Tunes you know, done in a way you want to hear them, fun for the car & the kitchen, but also a decent repeatable listen.

Harry Connick Jr is totally different. This is a jazz man at the peak of his powers, giving us a jazz CD that shows off a variety (though I don't think all) of his talents. The version I have is the 18 song disc from Barnes & Noble, and the generally available disc of What a Night in the UK only has 15 songs. That version still comes in at about an hour - so pretty good value when compared to Mr Bennett.

And there are plenty of comparisons to make. Both singers duet with their daughters - Harry wins. His daughter is about 12 and the track is a bit cutesy, but it's also a laugh & makes fun of the "old man" (42 - what, a third of TB's age?) in the arrangement (obviously done by HCJ, who does all his own arrangements). HCJ is in his prime. At his peak. Phenomenal. Throwing in guest artists because he loves to, though as a listener I just wanted more of him.

It's not an easy listen. I think one track is simply misjudged (one of the two duets with Kim Burrell) & other stuff is nice, neat, hard-core Big Band. Last time's Seasonal offering from Harry (Harry for the Holidays) used a lot of New Orleans type rhythms. Here, we go (mostly) back to swing. But it couldn't be further from the simple expectations of the Tony Bennett album if it tried - and I think it probably did!

I kept loving it. Even O Come all ye Faithful, which at first I did not like (I have a thing about crooners needing to avoid sounding too 'holy' on these things), I went back to, and it's now starting to make sense to me.

There are familiar songs (Most Wonderful Time of the Year, Winter Wonderland, and the best Jingle Bells I have ever EVER heard), a few of Harry's own (What a Night, Santarrific, the very Gospelly Song for the Hopeful) and a couple of instrumentals (Sugar Plum Fairy - well, OK, it grows on you; We Three Kings is fantastic) and if you are going to risk a jazzy addition to your Christmas listening this season, then risk one that demands something of you. Risk this one.

Though Harry for the Holidays is also great. And if you are feeling a bit cowardly but want something to lift you, go for the Diana Krall.

What a Night is getting 4.75 stars out of 5. I feel mean at 4.5. And it's not quite a 5 - the first Kim Burrell duet just doesn't have me.


And here is a picture of the dog & I listening to Harry as we finish putting the tree up. Christmas is coming! We need ourselves a Goose with Body/Mass Index issues!

Christmas CD Review #2

So I put the tree up. And in this house it's traditional to do it whilst a John Rutter CD warbles in the background.

Now - I have a long-standing love of John Rutter Christmas music, so I was delighted to see there was a new one out. I think that A Christmas Festival is his 312th Christmas CD.

The good points first: good versions of two great carols, O Come all ye faithful and Hark, the Herald Angels - both with the Wilcox descants that frankly define Christmas. Big orchestral accompaniments in the Rutter manner..

The down points. Everything else. Dull, dull, dull. Sickly sweet. The squarest calypso you ever heard as Rutter's combined forces attempt The Virgin Mary Had a Baby Boy. ("No, Miss fforbes, he came down from the glory, please. Try again!") We even get Elton John-lite in Magical Kingdom. ("Strange and exciting and scary and new... You could dream them too." Sadly this is a genuine lyric.)

If you don't have it, treat yourself to his Christmas Night - Carols of the Nativity. Lots of unaccompanied English carols, one or two of his own, satisfyingly low on sugar, high on the yearning melancholy of good choral CD. Quite the opposite of this.

1.5 stars out of 5. Save your cash.

Christmas CD Review #1

So I've been in bed for four days with one of the worst colds I've had for ages. Time to catch up on some Christmas CD releases, and to bless you with my thoughts so you can rush out and buy them for yourself, or even make use of the excellent new Amazon MP3 service.

First up - Tony Bennett's latest, A Swingin' Christmas, with the Count Basie Band. Well, on seven of the eleven tracks anyway. And there's gripe number one, right there. The CD is at its best with the Basie band swingin' away (I'm sorry, I find that apostrophe as offensive as you do, but it is in the title) and TB croonin' (presumably) over the top.

Tony Bennett is about 96 now, I think. And frankly, if my voice holds out anything like that well, I'll be a happy man. Sure, he occasionally barks when he can't reach a note/forgets a melody, and things that would have worked 20 years ago (OK, 40) sometimes sound forced. But he is remarkable. You are listening to an old man sing - but to an old man sing, this is not like the groanings of Ol' Blue Eyes (they all loved those apostrophes, see) in his dotage.

Gripe number two: track three clearly doesn't belong on this CD. It has strings, a completely different vocal sound, and worst of all (Camillofan will appreciate this) eight bars of Toots Thielemans. 'Nough said.

Gripe number three: only thirty seven minutes of music. I guess TB had to get back to the rest home. Still, taking away the four minutes of track three, it is thirty three pretty good minutes of classy, relaxing lounge Christmas music.

3.5 stars (out of five)

So now we know

So, the serjeant at arms (er, pictured) was not presented with a warrant or told one was needed by the police when they came to search an MPs office. "Excuse me madam, we'd like to commit a felony on your premises, is that alright? Sign here."

She, of course, told the Speaker, in the vaguest terms that "something was going up", but he did what we all would do when carrying the responsibility for the wellbeing of order in the Mother of Parliaments: ask no questions, tell no lies.


The The Home Secretary, who politically is in charge of the police force, tells us that the whole investigation was begun by "the Cabinet Office" (the government, or possible its civil servants, or possibly just her) and then set on its merry way and she took no further part. It would be wrong for the Home Secretary to be kept informed of a major Police Investigation.

?

That questionmark isn't mine, it belongs to her predecessor as Labour Home Secretary, John Reid. He said: "I have to say I'm surprised to say the least that she wasn't informed that her opposite number, effectively was about to be arrested. I cannot think that if I had been told that this had been done after the event that I would have remained as placid as she has done in the circumstances." Which I believe is Parliament-speak for "What the hell do you think you are playing at?"

The Government are maintaining their high standards of Democratic principles. The Seven-strong Commission which the under-fire Speaker wants set up in order to see a "speedy and immediate" inquiry to report back "as soon as possible" has been put on hold. Of course.

Why?

Harriet Harman, leader of the House (Labour), explained: "I don't think it's wise to set up a concurrent investigation when there's a police investigation underway." And clearly, given everything, they can be trusted.

Certain words come to mind. Piss-up. Brewery. Except they belie the seriousness of all of this. MMP commented recently that all this makes her feel unsettled: well it should. We trust our Government to do their best for us; but all of the PM's tasty soundbites about being there for "families and small businesses" in the "current economic downturn" (I think he means recession) sound sour and unpalatable to me when free speech is pushed off the menu.

Now we know?

Now I'm having a laugh. A very hollow one indeed.

Enough (revisited)

Thanks for those who have been commenting. Exile has been disagreeing with me. He feels I am over-reacting and, from his home in "the land of the Free" finds himself defending the Government because I am being too harsh on them.

The worry is that the last seven years have seen more erosion of civil and parliamentary liberites than any period in our history.

There will come a time when we say "How did we get here?" unless there is a moment at which we say "This now is too far".

Suppose an MP has been helping a constituant with a complaint against a police authority. Up till last week, the constituant was safe in the knowledge that as an MP any such help given on Parliamentary property was subject to safeguards which meant that the constituant could fully disclose details to the MP because there could be no police raids on the MP's office to get at that material or at the constituant's details.

No more.

And this change comes not with Parliament's debate, but with the say-so of a civil servant - according to the Home Secretary. That is unbelievable.

Something like this has never happened before. Yet a civil servant can change the nature of Parliament and nobody questions it? I mean - nobody in the line of command goes, "This is new"? Or "Do you think we should run this by someone?"

David Cameron was informed beforehand. And what if he had rung up Gordon Brown? What if the PM had been informed by the Leader of the Opposition? That's an unbelievable scenario. No-one would have left the PM in that situation.

The Home Secretary clearly knew, as did the PM. A PM who made his name through judicious leaks is now seeking to imprison those who leak against him - that is not allowed in our democracy, or ought not be.

But - even if the Exile is partially right about my over-reaction (and I don't think he is) then we come back to this: anti-terror legislation should be used for terrorist suspects and only for terrorist suspects. For revealing the government's incompetence on checking illegal workers in the Houses of Parliament, for revealing that the Home Secretary thinks that a recession will increase crime, for revealing that some labour MPs would vote against the undemocratic and unBritish increase of detention without charge to 42 days, a Tory spokesman is a TERRORIST? Needing nine anti-terror officers to arrest him?

The police yesterday accused Damian Green of "grooming" a civil servant into making leaks. Using a word loaded with sexual overtones & saying he paid the man to do it. The man's lawyer hit the airwaves faster than a speeding bullet to refute those charges. I didn't know the police did "spin" like this; perhaps they have been coached...

Are we allowed to question the government?

Ken Jones, chief constable of Kent and Sussex police said: "To meet that responsibility in a way which delivers effective law enforcement to the people of our country requires complete trust between government, law enforcement and intelligence agencies. Leaks can and do erode that trust." So we'll round up anyone who questions us, and then there will be trust.

No, Mr Jones - then there will be tyranny.

I despise the terror legislation as anti-democratic. It invited such behaviour and we were assured it would not happen - how could it in Britain? This is how.

And I don't know how things work in the country where you live, Exile, for despite my many visits & great respect for its people, I have never understood the place. But I do know how we work. And it's not like this.