Sunday 24 June 2012
alextheanglican: Fair trade Oysters from Bolton
alextheanglican: Fair trade Oysters from Bolton: Hi, With my Ordination pretty much exactly three years away, I wonder if starting to prepare for the upheaval of moving house should b...
Fair trade Oysters from Bolton
Hi,
With my Ordination pretty much exactly three years away, I wonder if starting to prepare for the upheaval of moving house should begin now.
Most families have a drawer for junk, those items that nobody can make the decision to disperse with or throw away, but unfortunately in our house we have a drawer a cupboard and a room full of stuff that just sits around whilst one of us decides if it is fit for the bin, the carboot sale or the Ebay frenzy that descends on us every eighteen months or so.
I don't know if anybody recalls Tandy? it was a shop that sold every electrical accessory you could imagine, from VHS tapes, to the audio cassettes, from record player stylus' (needles that made the records play) to Sony Walkmans. I have a box in my house to rival Tandy, one that has more leads than a Crime watch special I have more cable than Nynex and I have so many entwined wires it would be easier to unknot a bowl of spaghetti!
There origins are unclear, but they have just grown and grown over the years as the family belief that they may serve a purpose at some point in future life.PS1, xbox, spectrum, scart to scart, pin to din, din to pin, RF in to RF out, you name we have it! We also have loads and loads of chargers and frequently when my phone is flat the only charger I can't find is the one that I need, the one that is currently in use, and so waste many minutes of my life trying all the other chargers that lead me up the garden path by looking ever so much like the charger I do need, only to let me down greatly when I plug it in the flippin socket.
The other issue that bogs me down is "PASSWORD MAINTENANCE" it drives me crackers,you need it for everything, Work, Internet, Banking, Cards, sleeping, drinking and farting! I think it's only a matter of time before I need a unique code to get into my box of Sultana Bran. "MY" brain hasn't allowed me to have a one size fits all approach to PASSWORD MAINTENANCE, it has never let me do that from the outset. Oh no my brain thought the best thing for me would be to have, a whole range of "PASSWORD MAINTENANCES" ranging from names of third cousins removed surnames backwards, jumbled up bithdays, minor television celebraties from the eighties, colours of colleagues vehicles, holiday destinations I've never visited, etc etc it all too frequently remains far too much of a mystery.
Or when I ring the bank or Utility complany and they ask for my unique "ultra protected" code that is unique to myself that I can never flippin remember, "Er is FROST in UPPERCAPS"? I ask. "No Sir" comes the reply. "Try Frost in lowercaps". And again the repy is "No". Is it, Alex, XLea, Frostie, AlexFrostie, Frostie Alex"? and of course"No" is the usual and frequent response. And then I feel really thick and ask for a clue, but they are always difficult and reluctant, but eventually I get, "Do you have a third cousin removed"? Optomistically I reply, "yes, is that the password"? I ask."No" was the response she was just curious! Eventually you get somewhere and after many moments of paying the premium call rate it is established that for absolutly no justifiable or explanable reason your password is something like ShaneRitche666. So as you have probably gathered by now it all gets a bit much sometimes.
The other area of our house that is far too complicated is the "condiment" cupboard, its just stupid, why one jar of jam, one jar of marmalade, salt, pepper and a bottle of ketchup is not enough is beyond me. It's the other bits of nonsense food that put my kitchen cupboard shelves to utter breaking point and me to the point of mental breakdown, I mean who seriously needs, Chile chutney, mango puree, chocolate spread that crackles, Lemon Curd, homemade nettle mouse from the 1998 school fete, pickled lychees, green tea, blue tea, Fairtrade Oysters from Bolton, marinated goats cheese and a jar of whelks!
The washing basket, and underwear arrangement is just a nightmare, I often wear to work a knee length grey sock on my left foot,with my daughters Peppa Pig ankle botherers on my right foot as we have lost the ability to "pair up" properly in our house.
I have no desire (honestly) to wear my wifes "off white" knickers on a Tuesday just as my ten year old daughter doesn't really want to wear my Y Fronts, particularly on a "PE" day!
Keys! For the amount of keys I have, you could quite reasonably suggest I was the caretaker at Stangeways, but i,m not, but why, why, why do I have so many keys? I have at least I have a dozen keys on my key ring that I have absolutly no idea what they are for, big, small, fat thin,no idea, what are they for?
So as you can ascertain by now, my life is rather full of clutter, and I suppose the underlying christian message to this blog, is that I think we all need to stop and de-clutter our lives once in a while. In the past I have got to church fully expecting the good Lord to wash away all that fills my mind and rejuvinate me and send me on my way fresher than bathroom full of Fabreeze. But that doesn't usually happen. When I do sit in a still church, in that moment of prayer, I do usually here the message coming back at me, "You need to clear out the clutter, if you want me to help you and refresh you!
I,m naturally a very impatient person, I enjoy life being full, I like stress and prefer to be busy, but through my journey with God, I have learnt the importance of finding some moments of "peace"" and "me time"
I do this with my trusted friend Fletcher, my dog, and a morning and evening stroll is my way of finding space, time for praying and decluttering. I find it very useful.
I would encourage all who read this, if your feeling a bit frazzled or overloaded with info, data, deadlines, stress, and worries, to STOP, find your space, speak to God, unburden yourself and let God be your rock and support network.
Try it, and try it soon,
In Christ with you all
Alextheanglican.
With my Ordination pretty much exactly three years away, I wonder if starting to prepare for the upheaval of moving house should begin now.
Most families have a drawer for junk, those items that nobody can make the decision to disperse with or throw away, but unfortunately in our house we have a drawer a cupboard and a room full of stuff that just sits around whilst one of us decides if it is fit for the bin, the carboot sale or the Ebay frenzy that descends on us every eighteen months or so.
I don't know if anybody recalls Tandy? it was a shop that sold every electrical accessory you could imagine, from VHS tapes, to the audio cassettes, from record player stylus' (needles that made the records play) to Sony Walkmans. I have a box in my house to rival Tandy, one that has more leads than a Crime watch special I have more cable than Nynex and I have so many entwined wires it would be easier to unknot a bowl of spaghetti!
There origins are unclear, but they have just grown and grown over the years as the family belief that they may serve a purpose at some point in future life.PS1, xbox, spectrum, scart to scart, pin to din, din to pin, RF in to RF out, you name we have it! We also have loads and loads of chargers and frequently when my phone is flat the only charger I can't find is the one that I need, the one that is currently in use, and so waste many minutes of my life trying all the other chargers that lead me up the garden path by looking ever so much like the charger I do need, only to let me down greatly when I plug it in the flippin socket.
The other issue that bogs me down is "PASSWORD MAINTENANCE" it drives me crackers,you need it for everything, Work, Internet, Banking, Cards, sleeping, drinking and farting! I think it's only a matter of time before I need a unique code to get into my box of Sultana Bran. "MY" brain hasn't allowed me to have a one size fits all approach to PASSWORD MAINTENANCE, it has never let me do that from the outset. Oh no my brain thought the best thing for me would be to have, a whole range of "PASSWORD MAINTENANCES" ranging from names of third cousins removed surnames backwards, jumbled up bithdays, minor television celebraties from the eighties, colours of colleagues vehicles, holiday destinations I've never visited, etc etc it all too frequently remains far too much of a mystery.
Or when I ring the bank or Utility complany and they ask for my unique "ultra protected" code that is unique to myself that I can never flippin remember, "Er is FROST in UPPERCAPS"? I ask. "No Sir" comes the reply. "Try Frost in lowercaps". And again the repy is "No". Is it, Alex, XLea, Frostie, AlexFrostie, Frostie Alex"? and of course"No" is the usual and frequent response. And then I feel really thick and ask for a clue, but they are always difficult and reluctant, but eventually I get, "Do you have a third cousin removed"? Optomistically I reply, "yes, is that the password"? I ask."No" was the response she was just curious! Eventually you get somewhere and after many moments of paying the premium call rate it is established that for absolutly no justifiable or explanable reason your password is something like ShaneRitche666. So as you have probably gathered by now it all gets a bit much sometimes.
The other area of our house that is far too complicated is the "condiment" cupboard, its just stupid, why one jar of jam, one jar of marmalade, salt, pepper and a bottle of ketchup is not enough is beyond me. It's the other bits of nonsense food that put my kitchen cupboard shelves to utter breaking point and me to the point of mental breakdown, I mean who seriously needs, Chile chutney, mango puree, chocolate spread that crackles, Lemon Curd, homemade nettle mouse from the 1998 school fete, pickled lychees, green tea, blue tea, Fairtrade Oysters from Bolton, marinated goats cheese and a jar of whelks!
The washing basket, and underwear arrangement is just a nightmare, I often wear to work a knee length grey sock on my left foot,with my daughters Peppa Pig ankle botherers on my right foot as we have lost the ability to "pair up" properly in our house.
I have no desire (honestly) to wear my wifes "off white" knickers on a Tuesday just as my ten year old daughter doesn't really want to wear my Y Fronts, particularly on a "PE" day!
Keys! For the amount of keys I have, you could quite reasonably suggest I was the caretaker at Stangeways, but i,m not, but why, why, why do I have so many keys? I have at least I have a dozen keys on my key ring that I have absolutly no idea what they are for, big, small, fat thin,no idea, what are they for?
So as you can ascertain by now, my life is rather full of clutter, and I suppose the underlying christian message to this blog, is that I think we all need to stop and de-clutter our lives once in a while. In the past I have got to church fully expecting the good Lord to wash away all that fills my mind and rejuvinate me and send me on my way fresher than bathroom full of Fabreeze. But that doesn't usually happen. When I do sit in a still church, in that moment of prayer, I do usually here the message coming back at me, "You need to clear out the clutter, if you want me to help you and refresh you!
I,m naturally a very impatient person, I enjoy life being full, I like stress and prefer to be busy, but through my journey with God, I have learnt the importance of finding some moments of "peace"" and "me time"
I do this with my trusted friend Fletcher, my dog, and a morning and evening stroll is my way of finding space, time for praying and decluttering. I find it very useful.
I would encourage all who read this, if your feeling a bit frazzled or overloaded with info, data, deadlines, stress, and worries, to STOP, find your space, speak to God, unburden yourself and let God be your rock and support network.
Try it, and try it soon,
In Christ with you all
Alextheanglican.
Wednesday 20 June 2012
alextheanglican: Standing up for what you don't believe!
alextheanglican: Standing up for what you don't believe!: Hello everyone, In the Summer of 1991, my brother was standing as the parlimentary candidate for the Conservative Par...
Standing up for what you don't believe!
Hello everyone,
In the Summer of 1991, my brother was standing as the parlimentary candidate for the Conservative Party in the Labour safe seat, in Burnley and for some bizzare and strange reason I was persuaded to stand as a county councillor for the Tories also in our home town, far too easily if I remember correctly.
My politcal knowledge and understanding was not great, I enjoyed Spitting Image, particularly the very grey John Major, and the very Welsh Labour Leader Neil Kinncok, I prided myself on being able to do a rather good impression of him, which these days I've adapted and converted it into a really poor Tom Jones effort saying, "Where I,m from I am the voice" which causes particular annoyance to my beloved family.
So out of allegiance to my brother I became a fully paid up member of the Tory party, and became a candidate in North Burnley going up against a Labour veteran who hadn't lost his seat since "Adam was a lad" to put it mildly, there wasn't much hope!
My brother was running his campaign from just down the road, Farnham in Surrey ! and I was left with the keys, to Tory headquarters (a run down office) where I could prepare my manifesto and election strategy.
I had absolutly no bloomin idea, but The Tory leadership had launched rather a colourful badge, with the words, "Keep The Pound" emblazened upon it. So that would be my mantra for the election, keep the pound. I had a mug shot done, and about 4000 leaflets were produced with my face, and some stuff that my brother had put together, The Frost Mafia was ready to take over Burnley, and so with that I proceeded to drop my leaflets every and anwhere, and I had far too many near missus with some of the roughest canine creatures you could wish to find in some of Burnleys most deprived areas. I was warmly received pretty much nowhere, and knew I was flogging a dead horse when a elderly lady in late eighties rather rudely told me to "Piss Off" I was most offended,
Not to be defeated I went armed with a huge "vote tory" banner and positioned myself on Burnleys busiest roundabout where I people waved at me, with one finger and accasionally two!
Whilst on the campaign trail, I recieved some really bad news which devastated me, and my way of dealing with the upset was to hit the trail even harder, I walked and walked and walked I delivered a leaflet to every single house that was within my catchment area, no stone was left unturned.
On one moment of inspiration I decided to hit the roads, in a van, armed with a megaphone and loud speaker, and again trawled the streets of burnley yelling to one and all, "Vote Frost, Vote Frost" and "Keep the Pound, Keep the Pound". In my wisdom, I targeted the house of my big rival and parked my van in his cul de sac, and shouted out "Vote Frost, get Labour Out." Generally people couldn't quite beleive what they were seeing, and I suppose my realization that enough was enough, was when , through my megaphone, I was rude back to the, scruffs and ruffs as they gestured and rediculed my ingenuity. I was pretty much scraping the barrell as far as electioneering was concerned, but still found time to shout down genuine politicians who were championing there own causes during the build up to voting day.
On the day of the election my brother and I wore our best suits, and we floated around the borough seeking out the "floaters" in the vague hope we may get an extra vote or two.
The Labour Party won that seat with 18,195 votes, The Frosts came second with 7,697 the battle had been lost!
When I reflect on that event, It really holds very few happy memories, I am not a political animal, I,m not a MP in the making, I suffered emotionally but more disapointedly I was fighting for something I didn't really believe in. It didn't excite me or enthuse me, the count was a torid event, with bad feeling and a huge anti climax, it was a shallow and ungratify experience.
Being a Christian is a hugely different position to be in, having belief in what I am doing, is for one greatly satisfying and joyful. This comes from a simple position of believing in the Father the Son and the Holy Spirit.
I think it is important to stand up for what you believe in, If you believe in Christ it is important to say it, to tell it, to live it, just as Atheists would argue that it is also right to stand for what they believe is the truth.
Atheists will tell you they have no faith in the existence of God, but would accept that to believe in God you must have Faith, because as far as they are concerned I can't prove the existence of him. However to be an Atheist you must also have "faith" as unless I have missed it nobody has proved that God doesn't exist. Therefore they have faith, Whilst I don't have physical proof of the existence of God, I do believe with all my heart and soul about the truth of Christianity, it is based not on doctrine, or few nice hymns, or it just feels right, It is based on life long experiences, prayer, reading, listening, watching, and seeing.
And of course there is The Bible,the good old Bible, the book of so many misinterpretations, misunderstandings, but I wonder how many Atheists have read it and read it properly.
There are many things to take from the Bible, Truth, Myths, Legends, History, Poetry, Song, Love, Death, you name it is all in there, it is a way to a greater understanding, a way to find Jesus Christ and to accept him as your human encounter with God, give it a go it is a amazing opportunity and experience.
Finally if your of Faith, and by this I mean Christian faith, I encourage to express, in fact I plead with you, Christians are being marginalized in the UK, don't let it happen, you have a voice, that God gave you, please let it be heard.
In Christ with you all
Alex
In the Summer of 1991, my brother was standing as the parlimentary candidate for the Conservative Party in the Labour safe seat, in Burnley and for some bizzare and strange reason I was persuaded to stand as a county councillor for the Tories also in our home town, far too easily if I remember correctly.
My politcal knowledge and understanding was not great, I enjoyed Spitting Image, particularly the very grey John Major, and the very Welsh Labour Leader Neil Kinncok, I prided myself on being able to do a rather good impression of him, which these days I've adapted and converted it into a really poor Tom Jones effort saying, "Where I,m from I am the voice" which causes particular annoyance to my beloved family.
So out of allegiance to my brother I became a fully paid up member of the Tory party, and became a candidate in North Burnley going up against a Labour veteran who hadn't lost his seat since "Adam was a lad" to put it mildly, there wasn't much hope!
My brother was running his campaign from just down the road, Farnham in Surrey ! and I was left with the keys, to Tory headquarters (a run down office) where I could prepare my manifesto and election strategy.
I had absolutly no bloomin idea, but The Tory leadership had launched rather a colourful badge, with the words, "Keep The Pound" emblazened upon it. So that would be my mantra for the election, keep the pound. I had a mug shot done, and about 4000 leaflets were produced with my face, and some stuff that my brother had put together, The Frost Mafia was ready to take over Burnley, and so with that I proceeded to drop my leaflets every and anwhere, and I had far too many near missus with some of the roughest canine creatures you could wish to find in some of Burnleys most deprived areas. I was warmly received pretty much nowhere, and knew I was flogging a dead horse when a elderly lady in late eighties rather rudely told me to "Piss Off" I was most offended,
Not to be defeated I went armed with a huge "vote tory" banner and positioned myself on Burnleys busiest roundabout where I people waved at me, with one finger and accasionally two!
Whilst on the campaign trail, I recieved some really bad news which devastated me, and my way of dealing with the upset was to hit the trail even harder, I walked and walked and walked I delivered a leaflet to every single house that was within my catchment area, no stone was left unturned.
On one moment of inspiration I decided to hit the roads, in a van, armed with a megaphone and loud speaker, and again trawled the streets of burnley yelling to one and all, "Vote Frost, Vote Frost" and "Keep the Pound, Keep the Pound". In my wisdom, I targeted the house of my big rival and parked my van in his cul de sac, and shouted out "Vote Frost, get Labour Out." Generally people couldn't quite beleive what they were seeing, and I suppose my realization that enough was enough, was when , through my megaphone, I was rude back to the, scruffs and ruffs as they gestured and rediculed my ingenuity. I was pretty much scraping the barrell as far as electioneering was concerned, but still found time to shout down genuine politicians who were championing there own causes during the build up to voting day.
On the day of the election my brother and I wore our best suits, and we floated around the borough seeking out the "floaters" in the vague hope we may get an extra vote or two.
The Labour Party won that seat with 18,195 votes, The Frosts came second with 7,697 the battle had been lost!
When I reflect on that event, It really holds very few happy memories, I am not a political animal, I,m not a MP in the making, I suffered emotionally but more disapointedly I was fighting for something I didn't really believe in. It didn't excite me or enthuse me, the count was a torid event, with bad feeling and a huge anti climax, it was a shallow and ungratify experience.
Being a Christian is a hugely different position to be in, having belief in what I am doing, is for one greatly satisfying and joyful. This comes from a simple position of believing in the Father the Son and the Holy Spirit.
I think it is important to stand up for what you believe in, If you believe in Christ it is important to say it, to tell it, to live it, just as Atheists would argue that it is also right to stand for what they believe is the truth.
Atheists will tell you they have no faith in the existence of God, but would accept that to believe in God you must have Faith, because as far as they are concerned I can't prove the existence of him. However to be an Atheist you must also have "faith" as unless I have missed it nobody has proved that God doesn't exist. Therefore they have faith, Whilst I don't have physical proof of the existence of God, I do believe with all my heart and soul about the truth of Christianity, it is based not on doctrine, or few nice hymns, or it just feels right, It is based on life long experiences, prayer, reading, listening, watching, and seeing.
And of course there is The Bible,the good old Bible, the book of so many misinterpretations, misunderstandings, but I wonder how many Atheists have read it and read it properly.
There are many things to take from the Bible, Truth, Myths, Legends, History, Poetry, Song, Love, Death, you name it is all in there, it is a way to a greater understanding, a way to find Jesus Christ and to accept him as your human encounter with God, give it a go it is a amazing opportunity and experience.
Finally if your of Faith, and by this I mean Christian faith, I encourage to express, in fact I plead with you, Christians are being marginalized in the UK, don't let it happen, you have a voice, that God gave you, please let it be heard.
In Christ with you all
Alex
Sunday 17 June 2012
alextheanglican: The night I met Jesus in the lift !
alextheanglican: The night I met Jesus in the lift !: Hello friends, When I was 8 years old, I vaguely remember watching the TV mini series Jesus of Nazareth, with the amazin...
alextheanglican: It's all about percentages!
alextheanglican: It's all about percentages!: Hi once more, I may I encourage those looking for humor maybe not to bother reading the rest of this blog as I want co...
Friday 15 June 2012
It's all about percentages!
Hi once more,
I may I encourage those looking for humor maybe not to bother reading the rest of this blog as I want convey a more serious side of being a Christian.
About a month has passed since I got the letter from "The big Cheeses" giving me the go ahead to begin my formal training for Ordination, and after the total joy and relief the realization that the future for myself and my family is now moving pretty quickly in a whole new direction.
Some years ago as a "infant" Christian the Vicar and my good friend Richard, preached on being a disciple of Christ, and he talked about, to be serious about ones faith you had to be prepared to be serious about being a Christian. Your commitment to Christ shouldn't be just on a Sunday, it should be every minute, every hour and every day for the rest of your life. At this point I can almost feel the readers who stayed with the blog to think, Bloody hell there is no way I can do that!
When he said that in the church, I thought to myself, Bloody hell there is no way I can do that! There was no way I could give up my way of life to live the new life of a Christian. But 3 or 4 years down the line, here I am living my life as a Christian. My personality hasn't changed, my lifestyle hasn't changed, so what's different?
I have spent a lot of my adult life, trying to fit in, even whilst exploring vocation, I spent far too much time, trying to be the stereotypical clergy person, only to discover that if I was trying to be that clergy stereotype, I would be failing the Lord drastically in what I believe, is a true calling from God.
I read a "God Book" and after many months of self discovery, it read, God calls you, "To sing your song, your message and demonstrate your acts of love". And that message will live with me forever.
As I watch the world and Gods people go about there daily lives (and boy do I like to watch) I can't help feeling as though I,m sometimes listening to people in percentages of who they really are and only occasionally do I get the 100% of a person. What do I mean by this?
I have always been a person of honesty, but as a child at school I really struggled to find a platform to be truly myself, I was never going to be a great academic, I wanted to talk, make people smile, have a fun but the teacher would always, shut me up or discipline me with a detention for really just being myself. Have you ever felt that supresion yourself, maybe from a loved one, or a colleague, or whatever?
And then of course when your not being who you truly are, you then become a charicature of yourself.
If your perceived as moody, you be moody, if your perceived to be as tough as nails, then you play up to that tag and then you more frequently become the person people expect you to be rather than be the person that God really made you to be.
What I have truly discovered, is that being a disciple of Christ is that I can truly be myself, and I think that is what God wants me to do, i,m not saying I,m a complete, perfect specimin of mankind (have you seen me naked?) but I can honestly tell you that individually as a person I,m as contented with myself as I have ever been, and that includes all the trials and tribulations life throws at me.
Back to the percentages again, My Faith in Christ is pretty high as you would probably expect, on a percentage scale I would say well into the nineties which compared to the 17% I once scored in a Maths exam, is more a measure of how strong my faith is as apposed to my academic ability!
Let me ask you a question on a percentage scale how high is your faith? 90, 80, 70, 60, 50, 40, 30, 20, 10, 5,4,3,2,1, ?
And back to Richards point how much of your life are you prepared to give to Christ?
90, 80, 70, 60,50, 40, 30, 20, 10, 5,4,3,2,1 ?
And let me also ask this, How much are you today, truly the person you want to be,
90,80,70,60,50,40,30,20,10,5,4,3,2,1 ?
In the Bible is a story, you may know it, It is the story of the Mustard Seed.
The Mustard Seed is one of the smallest seeds in all of creation, but when it grows, it gets massive, and becomes a tree. Now I,m not saying you can all become trees, well actually I am, you can all become trees. if you want to!
One of the things that feeds my faith, is that for those of you in the 60, 70,80, 90s God is pleased with you, but what really inspires me is that if you are struggling to be a 1,2,3,4,5, percenter, then God is still totally with you, if your faith is a small as a mustard seed, in Gods eyes that is okay, he will not turn his back on you,we may fall short as christians, or agnostics but the opportunity to "grow your percentage" will never be removed by God. We can turn our backs away from God yet God will never turn his back on us. He offers us the potential if we want it, at any points in our lives the opportunity to grow and grow and reach our full maturity and enter his Kingdom.
I conclude with this, My life is now fully committed to God, I have found a contentment I have never discovered before, to be myself, not play up, not pretend, is a comfortable feeling.
The first step is massive, but the steps get smaller, and the burden easier.Please consider your own relationship with God and remember that It is never too late to explore and grow in your faith and discipleship.
I leave you with a very short You Tube clip.
God Bless,
Alextheanglican
I may I encourage those looking for humor maybe not to bother reading the rest of this blog as I want convey a more serious side of being a Christian.
About a month has passed since I got the letter from "The big Cheeses" giving me the go ahead to begin my formal training for Ordination, and after the total joy and relief the realization that the future for myself and my family is now moving pretty quickly in a whole new direction.
Some years ago as a "infant" Christian the Vicar and my good friend Richard, preached on being a disciple of Christ, and he talked about, to be serious about ones faith you had to be prepared to be serious about being a Christian. Your commitment to Christ shouldn't be just on a Sunday, it should be every minute, every hour and every day for the rest of your life. At this point I can almost feel the readers who stayed with the blog to think, Bloody hell there is no way I can do that!
When he said that in the church, I thought to myself, Bloody hell there is no way I can do that! There was no way I could give up my way of life to live the new life of a Christian. But 3 or 4 years down the line, here I am living my life as a Christian. My personality hasn't changed, my lifestyle hasn't changed, so what's different?
I have spent a lot of my adult life, trying to fit in, even whilst exploring vocation, I spent far too much time, trying to be the stereotypical clergy person, only to discover that if I was trying to be that clergy stereotype, I would be failing the Lord drastically in what I believe, is a true calling from God.
I read a "God Book" and after many months of self discovery, it read, God calls you, "To sing your song, your message and demonstrate your acts of love". And that message will live with me forever.
As I watch the world and Gods people go about there daily lives (and boy do I like to watch) I can't help feeling as though I,m sometimes listening to people in percentages of who they really are and only occasionally do I get the 100% of a person. What do I mean by this?
I have always been a person of honesty, but as a child at school I really struggled to find a platform to be truly myself, I was never going to be a great academic, I wanted to talk, make people smile, have a fun but the teacher would always, shut me up or discipline me with a detention for really just being myself. Have you ever felt that supresion yourself, maybe from a loved one, or a colleague, or whatever?
And then of course when your not being who you truly are, you then become a charicature of yourself.
If your perceived as moody, you be moody, if your perceived to be as tough as nails, then you play up to that tag and then you more frequently become the person people expect you to be rather than be the person that God really made you to be.
What I have truly discovered, is that being a disciple of Christ is that I can truly be myself, and I think that is what God wants me to do, i,m not saying I,m a complete, perfect specimin of mankind (have you seen me naked?) but I can honestly tell you that individually as a person I,m as contented with myself as I have ever been, and that includes all the trials and tribulations life throws at me.
Back to the percentages again, My Faith in Christ is pretty high as you would probably expect, on a percentage scale I would say well into the nineties which compared to the 17% I once scored in a Maths exam, is more a measure of how strong my faith is as apposed to my academic ability!
Let me ask you a question on a percentage scale how high is your faith? 90, 80, 70, 60, 50, 40, 30, 20, 10, 5,4,3,2,1, ?
And back to Richards point how much of your life are you prepared to give to Christ?
90, 80, 70, 60,50, 40, 30, 20, 10, 5,4,3,2,1 ?
And let me also ask this, How much are you today, truly the person you want to be,
90,80,70,60,50,40,30,20,10,5,4,3,2,1 ?
In the Bible is a story, you may know it, It is the story of the Mustard Seed.
The Mustard Seed is one of the smallest seeds in all of creation, but when it grows, it gets massive, and becomes a tree. Now I,m not saying you can all become trees, well actually I am, you can all become trees. if you want to!
One of the things that feeds my faith, is that for those of you in the 60, 70,80, 90s God is pleased with you, but what really inspires me is that if you are struggling to be a 1,2,3,4,5, percenter, then God is still totally with you, if your faith is a small as a mustard seed, in Gods eyes that is okay, he will not turn his back on you,we may fall short as christians, or agnostics but the opportunity to "grow your percentage" will never be removed by God. We can turn our backs away from God yet God will never turn his back on us. He offers us the potential if we want it, at any points in our lives the opportunity to grow and grow and reach our full maturity and enter his Kingdom.
I conclude with this, My life is now fully committed to God, I have found a contentment I have never discovered before, to be myself, not play up, not pretend, is a comfortable feeling.
The first step is massive, but the steps get smaller, and the burden easier.Please consider your own relationship with God and remember that It is never too late to explore and grow in your faith and discipleship.
I leave you with a very short You Tube clip.
God Bless,
Alextheanglican
Tuesday 12 June 2012
Smack me in the face, why don't you?
Hi,
"That was a great game of football ref." "Cheers", I replied, "Shame you f***** missed it." came the response.
That was said to me by a footballer by the name of Peter Davenport when I was officiating a game he was involved in. Davenports' career included playing for Manchester United and England and on this occasion he was the manager of the non league club from Wales Colwyn Bay. It was the most profound, simplistic assessment of my match officiating I had ever received, to the point I had no other reply than "Thankyou".
At Haslingdon sports centre, I was enjoying reffing a Sunday league game, between two teams who had as much footballing talent as Jedwood have in the fine art of musical ability, when I awarded a free kick to one of the teams for a simple foul, and the rather disgruntled and over weight defensive midfielder put his stale "beer breath" within an inch of my nose and inflicted the poetic insult "You C***" I was rather offended, but offered lienenacy and so I produced a yellow card and politely asked him to "Calm Down." The next conversation I recall was being asked, "Do we get the points ref"? I was rather confused, I was wet through after being soaked by a bucket of water and slightly disorientated, I felt a sharp pain over my right eye with a swelling that I didn't have a few moments earlier. The player in question had physically assaulted me! I was knocked clean out and was really shaken and upset by the experience. The player was arrested and I had a black eye for my troubles.
On a glorious Sunday afternoon I had the displeasure of officating a Under tens cup match, it was a semi final, the stakes were high and the quality of football low, very low! However the parents were as always particularly over enthusiastic as they truly believed thier offspring were without any doubt the next Rooneys' in the making. Sadly for me the game went to extra time, which meant tensions were getting higher, parents tempers were fraying and the football degenerated almost into a game of rugby! In the last minute of the second period of extra time, I awarded a penalty! All hell broke lose however after some moments of madness, order was restored and the penalty was converted to put one of the sides into the final. The ten minute walk back to the changing rooms was one of the most volatile experiences of my entire life, I was verbally abused, pushed and shoved by parents, screamed at by mothers and if it wasn't for an off duty policeman intervening I was genuinely concerned for my wellbeing.
I was reffing a Hospital Cup tie, two local teams and one was side made up of police officers, the others some the finest rogues Burnley had to offer and as you can imagine it was a liveley encounter with, rather more potential leg breaking tackles than Barcelona esque swarve and artistic football on display. And ineviatably a very liveley tackle came in but somewhat surprising it was from a member of the constabulary side, he nearly broke the player in half, and I subsequently had no alternative but to dismiss him from the field of play, the red mist quickly descended upon the constable, and he verbally abused me whilst his oponents took great delight in his omission from the pitch. A fair old scrap took place between the upholders of law and order and Burnleys' finest headcases, it took some time for order to be restored, the game was concluded but tempers remained high and the final whistle brought great relief to me if nobody else.
The manager of the police team was a Sargaent, and in the dressing room he led a number of his colleagues into the dressing room to offer apologies for thier behaviour and I was happy to accept however the policeman who caused all the disharmony was still too wound up to show me any remorse or sorrow.
I still see that policeman, he regularly wonders around the town and works the football matches, he absolutly still knows who I am, on a number of occasions our eyes have met he has still found it impossible to look me in the eye and acknowledge my existence, and that is fine, I don't think he has forgiven me to this day.
That year 1991, ended with me with officiating in front of a crowd of over ten thousand people, and I met a footballing hero of mine, a chap called Keith Burkenshaw who was the manager of West Brom at the time, but he had led by Spurs, who I grew up supporting to two FA cup victories and and a European cup.
I was awarded young referee of the year and I achieved my goal of becoming a class 1 football referee and passed the fitness test to make the step up, all roads were leading to The Football League.
In 1992 I gave up my refereeing career, I was officating at proffessional football matches, and I had some amazing experiences and met some great footballers both famous and unknown. The experience of being assaulted had a big affect on me, I didn't lose the drive and the determination, but I did lose "a bit of bottle"
I lost the ability to make the big decisions, for fear of the player in front of me, clobbering in the face, just for making a honest judgement. The earlier assault was pivotal in ending my career as a football referee.
So it was another, "What could have been moment" My brother often reminds me as we watch our beloved Burnley at Turf Moor, that the man in the middle could have been me!
It could have been but it wasn't, and now as a Christian I reflect on those experiences with a sense of what a shame. I don't hold any resentment to the bloke who whacked me in the face, he obviously had issues and something made him snap that day, and I really think it was something more than a foul that didn't go his way. I don't know his name, I can't recall his face, and as he was banned from football for life I pray that experience has served him well all these years later.
I don't bare any malice to the parents who tormented me and frightened me during that "long walk" In there own way there were "doing it" for thier children, to demonstrate how important they were, there were fighting their corners and I fully understand that.
To the police officer that lost the plot, I think he is aware how is behaviour reflected more on himself than on me, I really don't wish him any harm, but I do hope it taught him something about restraint and self control.
To Peter Davenport, I find nothing but humour, he was obviously disapointed his side had lost, he didn't lose his temper, he wasn't threatening, he didn't even raise his voice, his words said everything.
May I encourage you all to consider your response to disapointment, resentment and frustration, particularly towards your fellow human being, you can say or do things that really puncture someone and what you say may be removed from your mind not long after the words have been spoken, but for the person who receives that retort, they can be scarred and burdened with that single act of hurt and spitefullness for a long long time.
God Bless you.
Alextheanglican.
"That was a great game of football ref." "Cheers", I replied, "Shame you f***** missed it." came the response.
That was said to me by a footballer by the name of Peter Davenport when I was officiating a game he was involved in. Davenports' career included playing for Manchester United and England and on this occasion he was the manager of the non league club from Wales Colwyn Bay. It was the most profound, simplistic assessment of my match officiating I had ever received, to the point I had no other reply than "Thankyou".
At Haslingdon sports centre, I was enjoying reffing a Sunday league game, between two teams who had as much footballing talent as Jedwood have in the fine art of musical ability, when I awarded a free kick to one of the teams for a simple foul, and the rather disgruntled and over weight defensive midfielder put his stale "beer breath" within an inch of my nose and inflicted the poetic insult "You C***" I was rather offended, but offered lienenacy and so I produced a yellow card and politely asked him to "Calm Down." The next conversation I recall was being asked, "Do we get the points ref"? I was rather confused, I was wet through after being soaked by a bucket of water and slightly disorientated, I felt a sharp pain over my right eye with a swelling that I didn't have a few moments earlier. The player in question had physically assaulted me! I was knocked clean out and was really shaken and upset by the experience. The player was arrested and I had a black eye for my troubles.
On a glorious Sunday afternoon I had the displeasure of officating a Under tens cup match, it was a semi final, the stakes were high and the quality of football low, very low! However the parents were as always particularly over enthusiastic as they truly believed thier offspring were without any doubt the next Rooneys' in the making. Sadly for me the game went to extra time, which meant tensions were getting higher, parents tempers were fraying and the football degenerated almost into a game of rugby! In the last minute of the second period of extra time, I awarded a penalty! All hell broke lose however after some moments of madness, order was restored and the penalty was converted to put one of the sides into the final. The ten minute walk back to the changing rooms was one of the most volatile experiences of my entire life, I was verbally abused, pushed and shoved by parents, screamed at by mothers and if it wasn't for an off duty policeman intervening I was genuinely concerned for my wellbeing.
I was reffing a Hospital Cup tie, two local teams and one was side made up of police officers, the others some the finest rogues Burnley had to offer and as you can imagine it was a liveley encounter with, rather more potential leg breaking tackles than Barcelona esque swarve and artistic football on display. And ineviatably a very liveley tackle came in but somewhat surprising it was from a member of the constabulary side, he nearly broke the player in half, and I subsequently had no alternative but to dismiss him from the field of play, the red mist quickly descended upon the constable, and he verbally abused me whilst his oponents took great delight in his omission from the pitch. A fair old scrap took place between the upholders of law and order and Burnleys' finest headcases, it took some time for order to be restored, the game was concluded but tempers remained high and the final whistle brought great relief to me if nobody else.
The manager of the police team was a Sargaent, and in the dressing room he led a number of his colleagues into the dressing room to offer apologies for thier behaviour and I was happy to accept however the policeman who caused all the disharmony was still too wound up to show me any remorse or sorrow.
I still see that policeman, he regularly wonders around the town and works the football matches, he absolutly still knows who I am, on a number of occasions our eyes have met he has still found it impossible to look me in the eye and acknowledge my existence, and that is fine, I don't think he has forgiven me to this day.
That year 1991, ended with me with officiating in front of a crowd of over ten thousand people, and I met a footballing hero of mine, a chap called Keith Burkenshaw who was the manager of West Brom at the time, but he had led by Spurs, who I grew up supporting to two FA cup victories and and a European cup.
I was awarded young referee of the year and I achieved my goal of becoming a class 1 football referee and passed the fitness test to make the step up, all roads were leading to The Football League.
In 1992 I gave up my refereeing career, I was officating at proffessional football matches, and I had some amazing experiences and met some great footballers both famous and unknown. The experience of being assaulted had a big affect on me, I didn't lose the drive and the determination, but I did lose "a bit of bottle"
I lost the ability to make the big decisions, for fear of the player in front of me, clobbering in the face, just for making a honest judgement. The earlier assault was pivotal in ending my career as a football referee.
So it was another, "What could have been moment" My brother often reminds me as we watch our beloved Burnley at Turf Moor, that the man in the middle could have been me!
It could have been but it wasn't, and now as a Christian I reflect on those experiences with a sense of what a shame. I don't hold any resentment to the bloke who whacked me in the face, he obviously had issues and something made him snap that day, and I really think it was something more than a foul that didn't go his way. I don't know his name, I can't recall his face, and as he was banned from football for life I pray that experience has served him well all these years later.
I don't bare any malice to the parents who tormented me and frightened me during that "long walk" In there own way there were "doing it" for thier children, to demonstrate how important they were, there were fighting their corners and I fully understand that.
To the police officer that lost the plot, I think he is aware how is behaviour reflected more on himself than on me, I really don't wish him any harm, but I do hope it taught him something about restraint and self control.
To Peter Davenport, I find nothing but humour, he was obviously disapointed his side had lost, he didn't lose his temper, he wasn't threatening, he didn't even raise his voice, his words said everything.
May I encourage you all to consider your response to disapointment, resentment and frustration, particularly towards your fellow human being, you can say or do things that really puncture someone and what you say may be removed from your mind not long after the words have been spoken, but for the person who receives that retort, they can be scarred and burdened with that single act of hurt and spitefullness for a long long time.
God Bless you.
Alextheanglican.
Saturday 9 June 2012
Faith in a Caravan
Well hello again,
My wife and I generally get on quite well, we are good friends, we enjoy each others company, we think we are reasonable parents etc etc, but there is one area we have rather strong differences of opinion.
The subject in question is caravans,My dear wife loves a caravan and frequently talks of her desire to own her own caravan so we can travel across the globe in our mobile home as one big happy family.
But this week after spending a very enjoyable Mon - Fri holiday in Berwick Upon Tweed I remain unconvinced at the potential "Joy" of owning our own travelling residence.
When you first arrive and enter your home for the week it is very true that you cant be nothing short of impressed at the many features a 8 birth caravan can offer. There is the open lounge with ample seating, the dining table to seat 4 people very comfortably, there is the kitchen area with gas, sink, microwave and so on, and the hallway with a barrage of doors leading to more expressions of caravan delights, we had 3 bedrooms, a bathroom and toilet room, like I say on the face of it, quite impressive.
However after enjoying the first 24 hours you start to realize the caravan is not quite as awe inspiring as first believed. To sleep with my darling "other half" in a mere double bed after enjoying the comfort of a deluxe king size mattress at home is an experience not for the faint hearted. There is no give in the duvet for a start, and to wrestle for the bit which is rightfully yours is a nightlong battle resulting in a morning full of aches and pains and many brews to aid my recovery. The mattress has been well worn, it seemed to have lost its springyness many years ago, and the regulation pillows have less puff than Thomas the tank engine.
The walls are wafer thin and the kids snoring, trumping and general falling out hold no escape or rest bite, during your time of vacation.
The toilet is particularly a challenge, to find the best "turning point" to navigate the sitting down position is a work of art with just enough room to rest ones bottom I give thanks to the Lord I am no taller than the 5ft 8 height I was blessed with. The sink in front of me serves little purpose other than to again to challenge me to wash my hands without soaking both myself and the floor of the lavatory.
The cooking area is the next on my list of grievances, this particular caravan was designed to sleep eight but serve only one, there is absolutely no room to put my plates, make my sandwiches, make my tea, this resulted in some frustration as picnics are a daily pastime whilst on holiday.
Our TV had no remote, and the buttons kept sticking, our radiators didn't come on, we ran out of gas, we had no vacuum cleaner, the floors were always wet it was not a great advert for purchasing a deluxe holiday home.
Privacy!
It has to be accepted that if you choose a static caravan for your week of bliss, you have to absolutely give up your right to "me time" or any moments of privacy, every smell is shared with the family, from bacon to bedtime, from ablutions to showering, there is no place to hide!
However the location made up for the lap of luxury and the early morning dog walks along the cliff tops before the campsite awoke gave me just about enough time to reflect and pray about things on my weeks break.
Being by the rough sea, reminded me how powerful nature is, the wildlife how beautiful it is, and the rock formations, how old it is. I gave great thanks to God for his creation.
Yet whilst I still do not discern a permanent caravan, I also give thanks for the joy a family can give you if you let it, because although I may critique the Mobile home establishment, it created many laughs and happy events that will live long in the memory.
Blessings to you all.
Alex
My wife and I generally get on quite well, we are good friends, we enjoy each others company, we think we are reasonable parents etc etc, but there is one area we have rather strong differences of opinion.
The subject in question is caravans,My dear wife loves a caravan and frequently talks of her desire to own her own caravan so we can travel across the globe in our mobile home as one big happy family.
But this week after spending a very enjoyable Mon - Fri holiday in Berwick Upon Tweed I remain unconvinced at the potential "Joy" of owning our own travelling residence.
When you first arrive and enter your home for the week it is very true that you cant be nothing short of impressed at the many features a 8 birth caravan can offer. There is the open lounge with ample seating, the dining table to seat 4 people very comfortably, there is the kitchen area with gas, sink, microwave and so on, and the hallway with a barrage of doors leading to more expressions of caravan delights, we had 3 bedrooms, a bathroom and toilet room, like I say on the face of it, quite impressive.
However after enjoying the first 24 hours you start to realize the caravan is not quite as awe inspiring as first believed. To sleep with my darling "other half" in a mere double bed after enjoying the comfort of a deluxe king size mattress at home is an experience not for the faint hearted. There is no give in the duvet for a start, and to wrestle for the bit which is rightfully yours is a nightlong battle resulting in a morning full of aches and pains and many brews to aid my recovery. The mattress has been well worn, it seemed to have lost its springyness many years ago, and the regulation pillows have less puff than Thomas the tank engine.
The walls are wafer thin and the kids snoring, trumping and general falling out hold no escape or rest bite, during your time of vacation.
The toilet is particularly a challenge, to find the best "turning point" to navigate the sitting down position is a work of art with just enough room to rest ones bottom I give thanks to the Lord I am no taller than the 5ft 8 height I was blessed with. The sink in front of me serves little purpose other than to again to challenge me to wash my hands without soaking both myself and the floor of the lavatory.
The cooking area is the next on my list of grievances, this particular caravan was designed to sleep eight but serve only one, there is absolutely no room to put my plates, make my sandwiches, make my tea, this resulted in some frustration as picnics are a daily pastime whilst on holiday.
Our TV had no remote, and the buttons kept sticking, our radiators didn't come on, we ran out of gas, we had no vacuum cleaner, the floors were always wet it was not a great advert for purchasing a deluxe holiday home.
Privacy!
It has to be accepted that if you choose a static caravan for your week of bliss, you have to absolutely give up your right to "me time" or any moments of privacy, every smell is shared with the family, from bacon to bedtime, from ablutions to showering, there is no place to hide!
However the location made up for the lap of luxury and the early morning dog walks along the cliff tops before the campsite awoke gave me just about enough time to reflect and pray about things on my weeks break.
Being by the rough sea, reminded me how powerful nature is, the wildlife how beautiful it is, and the rock formations, how old it is. I gave great thanks to God for his creation.
Yet whilst I still do not discern a permanent caravan, I also give thanks for the joy a family can give you if you let it, because although I may critique the Mobile home establishment, it created many laughs and happy events that will live long in the memory.
Blessings to you all.
Alex
Friday 1 June 2012
耶穌愛你 that's 耶穌愛你
Hello everyone, And may the Father the Son and The Holy Spirit be with you this day.
Many moons ago, I worked as a Assistant Manager at Catalogue Clearance Shop, and I can only really tell this story as the company is defunct and no longer exists.
Our job was to clear through end of line items, returns from customers or damaged products that couldn't be resold through the Catalogue, and I can assure you we got some of the strangest things to sell, for example it wouldn't be uncommon to get 3 legged beds or size 16 high heels shoes for that lady with the bigger foot! We got Betamax video recorders, Dolly Parton snow globes, and a Spit the Dog board game, you name it we got it even if I am slightly over egging the cake for comedy purposes!
Quite often we would also receive cheap selling lines known as I Buys and once again the products we got were virtually not fit for sale, for example Torquay United keyrings and Art Attack pencil cases weren't flying out of the door in the Lancashire Town of Chorley were I worked.
Now about 6 weeks before Christmas and this bit is true, we received about a thousand cute little soft toys, doggies, bears, pussy cats, rabbits, and koalas and from a distance they looked really quite cute, but when we opened them up they had a rather unusual wording upon them. It wasn't in English and this was what was displayed, 耶穌愛你 Now unless you are able to read the great word of China, you probably will have no idea what this means, and nor did we, and after some calls to head office it was confirmed by our International buyers that 耶穌愛你 in English meant the very sweet, JESUS LOVES YOU !.
When this was established I can assure you we laughed like silly school children, How the flippin heck are we going to sell a 1000 耶穌愛你 fluffy toys. I was pretty confident that whilst Chorley was not the Christian Mecca of the western world, there were a good number of christians in the town but would they want a fluffy toy that read Jesus Loves You in a foreign language? Course they blooming wouldn't!
Well we put them out in the vague hope that the local Oriental takeway giant would pop in a buy them on mass for his friends and customers but all to no avail.
Then out of the blue I had a brain wave, It was a real , "Dyson, Google, Apple" moment. "I know what" I said to my boss, "A Santas grotto", I carried on, " I'll dress up as Santa, we can charge a pound (that was there recommended retail price) and I can give them the option of a
耶穌愛你 soft toy or some out of date bubbles as an alternative"!
What a great idea we all agreed, and so the next thing was to build the grotto, but unfortunately space was of a premium particularly at Christmas, and the damaged Sun Loungers weren't doing a roaring trade in late November! However not to be defeated, "I trucked on" and after some negotiating with the boss I managed to acquire a raised plinth that was displaying a woman dummy displaying a size 26 diamonte 2 piece bikini. The space was just enough to accommodate a deck chair and a damaged Winnie the Pooh child seat. It was a serious contravention of any H & S policies.
With the help of Andrea, my supervisor, we built a cardboard wall around the plinth and decorated it with cotton wool, and crepe paper to give it a authentic look of winter.
On stepping back to admire our structure, I can only tell you myself and Andrea laughed, and laughed and laughed, and bloomin laughed. It looked more we had created a scene from Stig of the Dump and every time someone walked by it wobbled as it was in serious danger of collapse.
So we were ready, the next Saturday was going to be our trial run and hopefully our
耶穌愛你 toys were going to fly out the door.
We put our Max Bygraves, Sing a long a christmas tape on, I got into my Father Christmas outfit which was okay except there was a slight problem with the beard, it was missing !
So along came Saturday and there I was squeezed into my grotto waiting for my first customer, in my outfit, minus the beard, listening to Max's jazzed up version of Come All Ye faithful sweating profusely as I had a couple of "recalled" pillows stuffed down my outfit.
It was very quiet and it got hotter and hotter, I was rather pleased the beard was missing if the truth be known but after my return from lunch an orderly que of children had formed to meet Santa.
Andrea was on queue management duties and she gave all the children strict instructions not to touch the grotto walls as they were not in great shape and could collapse at any moment.
Once they were all put at ease the proceedings could commence, and so the first child entered, and sat before me, and looked at me with utter bewilderment "Hello I said" no response, I tried to make light conversation, I said to the little child before me "Have got anything you want to ask me?" to which the reply came "Yes where's your beard?" I can't remember my response but I laughed out loud. I recall the out of date bubbles were doing a roaring trade. My next victim blue my cover, and it was long after this that the grotto ceased trading. This little girl came into my grotto, and I started my patter, Only for her to say in a loud frustrated voice, "Your not Father Christmas, I saw you building a 3 legged bunk bed last week" and with that she left in disgust with me holding some out of date bubbles and a 耶穌愛你 koala bear as a gift from Santa.
Not long after, we dismantled our Grotto, and put our soft toys back on the shelf. It was a event that did bring much joy, not to the children but certainly to the staff and the parents.
I hope it brought a titter to your face this day.
And remember
耶穌愛你
JESUS LOVES YOU
Many moons ago, I worked as a Assistant Manager at Catalogue Clearance Shop, and I can only really tell this story as the company is defunct and no longer exists.
Our job was to clear through end of line items, returns from customers or damaged products that couldn't be resold through the Catalogue, and I can assure you we got some of the strangest things to sell, for example it wouldn't be uncommon to get 3 legged beds or size 16 high heels shoes for that lady with the bigger foot! We got Betamax video recorders, Dolly Parton snow globes, and a Spit the Dog board game, you name it we got it even if I am slightly over egging the cake for comedy purposes!
Quite often we would also receive cheap selling lines known as I Buys and once again the products we got were virtually not fit for sale, for example Torquay United keyrings and Art Attack pencil cases weren't flying out of the door in the Lancashire Town of Chorley were I worked.
Now about 6 weeks before Christmas and this bit is true, we received about a thousand cute little soft toys, doggies, bears, pussy cats, rabbits, and koalas and from a distance they looked really quite cute, but when we opened them up they had a rather unusual wording upon them. It wasn't in English and this was what was displayed, 耶穌愛你 Now unless you are able to read the great word of China, you probably will have no idea what this means, and nor did we, and after some calls to head office it was confirmed by our International buyers that 耶穌愛你 in English meant the very sweet, JESUS LOVES YOU !.
When this was established I can assure you we laughed like silly school children, How the flippin heck are we going to sell a 1000 耶穌愛你 fluffy toys. I was pretty confident that whilst Chorley was not the Christian Mecca of the western world, there were a good number of christians in the town but would they want a fluffy toy that read Jesus Loves You in a foreign language? Course they blooming wouldn't!
Well we put them out in the vague hope that the local Oriental takeway giant would pop in a buy them on mass for his friends and customers but all to no avail.
Then out of the blue I had a brain wave, It was a real , "Dyson, Google, Apple" moment. "I know what" I said to my boss, "A Santas grotto", I carried on, " I'll dress up as Santa, we can charge a pound (that was there recommended retail price) and I can give them the option of a
耶穌愛你 soft toy or some out of date bubbles as an alternative"!
What a great idea we all agreed, and so the next thing was to build the grotto, but unfortunately space was of a premium particularly at Christmas, and the damaged Sun Loungers weren't doing a roaring trade in late November! However not to be defeated, "I trucked on" and after some negotiating with the boss I managed to acquire a raised plinth that was displaying a woman dummy displaying a size 26 diamonte 2 piece bikini. The space was just enough to accommodate a deck chair and a damaged Winnie the Pooh child seat. It was a serious contravention of any H & S policies.
With the help of Andrea, my supervisor, we built a cardboard wall around the plinth and decorated it with cotton wool, and crepe paper to give it a authentic look of winter.
On stepping back to admire our structure, I can only tell you myself and Andrea laughed, and laughed and laughed, and bloomin laughed. It looked more we had created a scene from Stig of the Dump and every time someone walked by it wobbled as it was in serious danger of collapse.
So we were ready, the next Saturday was going to be our trial run and hopefully our
耶穌愛你 toys were going to fly out the door.
We put our Max Bygraves, Sing a long a christmas tape on, I got into my Father Christmas outfit which was okay except there was a slight problem with the beard, it was missing !
So along came Saturday and there I was squeezed into my grotto waiting for my first customer, in my outfit, minus the beard, listening to Max's jazzed up version of Come All Ye faithful sweating profusely as I had a couple of "recalled" pillows stuffed down my outfit.
It was very quiet and it got hotter and hotter, I was rather pleased the beard was missing if the truth be known but after my return from lunch an orderly que of children had formed to meet Santa.
Andrea was on queue management duties and she gave all the children strict instructions not to touch the grotto walls as they were not in great shape and could collapse at any moment.
Once they were all put at ease the proceedings could commence, and so the first child entered, and sat before me, and looked at me with utter bewilderment "Hello I said" no response, I tried to make light conversation, I said to the little child before me "Have got anything you want to ask me?" to which the reply came "Yes where's your beard?" I can't remember my response but I laughed out loud. I recall the out of date bubbles were doing a roaring trade. My next victim blue my cover, and it was long after this that the grotto ceased trading. This little girl came into my grotto, and I started my patter, Only for her to say in a loud frustrated voice, "Your not Father Christmas, I saw you building a 3 legged bunk bed last week" and with that she left in disgust with me holding some out of date bubbles and a 耶穌愛你 koala bear as a gift from Santa.
Not long after, we dismantled our Grotto, and put our soft toys back on the shelf. It was a event that did bring much joy, not to the children but certainly to the staff and the parents.
I hope it brought a titter to your face this day.
And remember
耶穌愛你
JESUS LOVES YOU
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
On line
I have always been intrigued by media, television and radio, I recall a time when the family would come together shortly after tea to chil...
-
Hi Once again, "You might want to pull those up" said the Nurse. "Pardon" I replied. "You mi...
-
Christmas So here we are Christmas 2015 very nearly upon us, my first as a Rev, my first living in a church house, my first December in...
-
Hi, So there I was, standing on the stage at the Frog and Bucket in Manchester, The chap in the picture isn't me, I looked ...