A
FREE MAN
Well hello,
It has been all of eleven day
since I left the world of retail and became a free man, or so I thought. Simple
daily tasks like, washing, ironing, letting the guinea pigs out, cutting the
lawn, finding the start button on the vacuum cleaner, and preparing meals all
now feels under my remit! Not that the good lady has insisted I have happily taken on these
responsibilities as I kind of feel obligated as I enjoy my sabbatical
from working life for the next month or so.Whilst Sarah continues working and the children return to studies I like to think of myself as a gentleman between jobs whilst the family keep referring to me as unemployed and sponging off Mother!
So whilst I am ‘resting’ I have started to
enjoy my new surroundings with a little less stress now that shop keeping is no
longer my profession. I was so relaxed a day or two ago that I found myself
announcing to my family that next year I would be entering Britain’s Got Talent
performing the fine art of contemporary dance. As I demonstrated a few moves in
my dressing gown and pyjamas I gracefully pranced around the lounge at our new home, the children told me sit down and be quiet I did
what I was told although I thought that was what I was meant to tell them!
I have discovered a few local walks and the
woods around the corner from t’vicarage would be lovely if it wasn’t for the
incredible variety of dog excrement that makes the muddy corridor to natures
wonderful creations high risk. I need a keen eye and the navigational skills of
S.A.S proportions are required. During my early morning walks I pass through a
moss infused pathway and wave good morning to a neighbour whose dog barks at me
aggressively on a daily basis which causes me to consider a re-route and sympathize at the noise which disturbs the sleepy neighbourhood which is yet to awaken!
We don’t really have direct neighbours due
to the location of the house so my friendly instincts have only extended, to
the lady at the garage where I get my loaf and bread for two pounds. Also the
occasional hello with the local undertaker who un-unnervingly stopped his
funeral procession to briefly say hello the other day was thoughtful. There is a man who runs
a flower van at the gate of the crematorium, Its bit like a mobile butty shop
only with flowers, his rotund body contorts as he leans against his workplace
waiting for visitors to hand over money for daffodils and tulips and other
flowery things before entering their loved ones places of rest. He looked at me
enthusiastically as a potential customer initially and now as I pass him daily
on the way to the garage he looks at me with nonchalance and distain. I offer a
friendly hello which on a rare occasion I get a muted response but nothing to
suggest we will become great friends over the coming years!
Down
on one of the lanes my naivety was soon broken when I thought the Mr Kipling
silver cupcake holders were purely the laziness of the local’s failure to
dispose of their 'picnic' rubbish considerately, I now of course realize its rather more
sinister than this as silver foil indeed litters much of the walkway. In
the dead of night presumably the walkway becomes a den of iniquity for those
who like to administer themselves with narcotics slightly more dangerous and
addictive than Omega 3. The stroll down to the cemetery also makes me think
about death and resurrection, on one side, the view is of endless gravestones
and gardens and remembrance. On the other drug fuelled paraphernalia, silver
foils and a large squashed bird of some description that has been so compressed
into the tarmac it has no distinguishable features other than it used to fly.
Did that flight of fancy make to heaven or not I wonder?
I am using my free time wisely I have
watched Jeremy Kyle help the helpless assuming it is only a matter of time
before he also raises the dead. I watched in awe and wonder as a man on ITV
cooked some Asparagus in butter, I have ironed my socks in preparation for the
big day, and I have been reading the autobiography of Bear Grylls, a man
similar to myself, physically perfect, highly mobile, king of adventure and a
devout Christian! I forgot how nice it is to read books of a non-theological
nature. As I lied in the bath contentedly reading Bear the water had cooled
enough that my blood red skin had returned to a safe enough temperature that my
life was no longer at risk, I haven’t done that for ages.
I even watched a film with my daughter, it
was a tense, intellectual thriller entitled Pudsey the dog, sadly I lost the
will to live after sixty minutes and after falling in and out of a comatose
state even my daughter agreed it was a little tedious.
The next week is very busy, I have to go to
the library, I need a ‘new’ part worn tire for my driver’s side, and I need to
post a letter! Seriously I am rather busy, a trip to Salford, a trip to
Ambleside, then to Anglesey and then to Mirfield all in the next seven days are
things I am looking forward to, I told you I was like Bear Grylls!
Beyond that is the big day, Ordination on
the 4th July, but for now I am trying to put that to the back of
mind and focus on the here and now. I unpacked the clergy shirts and gave them
the once over with the Morphy Richards hotplate and as I ironed I thought, Me a
Clergyman, you having a laugh? I seem to have more white clergy collars than St
Paul’s Cathedral, if you need one let me know!!
Work
is still in the mind as I weirdly expect to be called into an Argos meeting or something
to pick up where I left off but deep down I know that is not going to happen.
Do I miss the world of retail? Not yet! It is nice waking up in a morning not
needing to rush, to take time with prayers and to enjoy a bit of ‘me' time. I am
feeling very content at the moment and truly blessed reflecting with pride and
affection on what has passed before me. I can’t wait to begin work as Fr Alex,
and as the diary starts filling with tasks of a church nature so does the
realization that ordained life is just around the corner.
In Bears’ book he writes a lot about
achievement, he has a really great story to tell and I highly recommend his
book, but whilst we really are nothing alike I found a shared faith and a
moment he reflected upon rather inspiring. Grylls broke his back in a failed
parachute landing not long after successfully passing out as an SAS soldier and
he subsequently left the elite forces due to his injuries. Despite this his determination to make the
most of his life was driven by an incredible self-will to achieve his goalsand whilst I
haven’t climbed Everest or parachuted out of a helicopter, I haven’t wrestled
with dangerous creatures or jumped of cliff tops, I have pushed myself
physically and mentally to get this far. Both myself and the man of mud, sweat
and tears have a common denominator and that is faith. He writes, ‘My Christian
faith says that I have nothing to fear or worry about. All is well’. At this
moment in time I couldn’t disagree with him in the slightest!
Till next time,
Peace brothers and sisters
Alextheanglican!
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