My Name In Lights...

... Well, ok, that is way too much of an exaggeration. However, this evening saw the official launch of the book, English Catholic Heroines, edited by Joanna Bogle, for which I wrote a chapter on St. Anne Line.

It was a lovely event, held in St. Wilfred's Hall at the London Oratory. I had left my car at home in the morning, and so was able to have a glass of wine (or two) while chatting to people.

It was fascinating to meet some of the other contributors - as well as contributors to the companion volume, English Catholic Heroes.

His Hermeneuticalness was in attendance, with camera, but he was too polite to try to snap me unawares - I really do hate my photo being taken. I, on the other hand, had no such reticence...

And here is what my name looks like in print...

Even though I'm not on commission, and don't get any royalties (honest!) I recommend this book (and its companion volume) as a little stocking-filler for anyone who wants to know about the witness of faithful Catholics in this country: there are many striking parallels to our own times too!

UPDATE: I thought I better point out that there is another page to the contents list - there are actually around 21 chapters!!

Monday Fun...

Monday cat post... Enjoy!

Pining For The Fjords...

I was chatting to Leutgeb over a cup of tea this evening, when she mentioned fjords. I couldn't help exclaiming "Pining for the fjords??" in a silly voice, and proceeded to mutter things about dead parrots. The sketch here has been edited somewhat - the version I recall ends with the offer of a slug as a replacement.

"Does it talk?" asks Cleese.

"Errr... yeah!" is the reply from Palin.

To which Cleese says: "Right, I'll have that one then."

The ending in this clip is rather less satisfactory, but the main part is still good stuff...

Very Remiss Of Me...

I did see this when it was first published, and even bookmarked it for later posting, but then I got distracted. Still, better late than never.

Parishioners at St. Mary Magdalen's, Brighton, were treated to a Solemn High Requiem Mass for All Souls Day. Clare filmed the whole thing and then cut the images with the music - I am very impressed with both the singing and the video itself. I particularly liked the black-and-white film effect!

Clare's video definitely wins over my slideshow... though I think Blackfen had the edge when it came to vestments!!

The Suppository's At It Again...

This time, the "Catholic" paper is having a pop at Anglicanorum Coetibus.

Fr. Z has done a great fisk of their latest editorial. I was particularly amused by his reference to The Suppository as "England’s ultra-dissenter fishwrap" and "a sort of bitter morning after pill".

The description of the effects of RCIA programmes run in some liberal parishes also had me chuckling...

"...I have heard from some who have gone through it in Tablet style parishes, they are never quite the same again. They don’t at all feel the same. Many, in fact, feel like they need delousing."

Damian Thompson has also written a good article about The Suppository's attitude.

I said before that I didn't quite understand why there was any need for the Apostolic Constitution. However, the Holy Father has written it, and has thereby made generous provision for any Anglicans who wish to be received into the Church. As far as I am concerned, that means that it's a good thing. Peter has spoken.

November...

Listening to the wind howling outside while I sip my mug of hot chocolate reminded me of a snippet of a poem I once read. I could only recall little snatches of it, so I didn't think Google would be much help, but, as it so happened, I struck gold...

By Thomas Hood, the whole poem can be found HERE, but it's the last verse which really does it for me...

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,

No comfortable feel in any member--
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!

The Arrival Of Winter...

The weather, for some strange reason, is considered to be a very British conversation piece. I hate to encourage such stereotyping, but sometimes one just has to bow to the inevitable...

The first major storms of winter appear to have hit Britain this weekend. They are slightly later than usual - in 1987 we had "the Great Storm" in the middle of October, which took everyone by surprise (most famously the weather forecaster, Michael Fish*... poor chap!) and ever since then, we seem to have storm warnings and severe weather warnings each October.

Today, I wanted to go along to the LMS Annual Requiem Mass at Westminster Cathedral. I was really looking forward to it, and had originally planned to drive down to Westminster and leave my car in Petty France near the Buckingham Arms. Then I heard that the Lord Mayor's Show was on.

Plan B was also quite enticing: take a cab to North Greenwich, and then the Jubilee Line up to Westminster... almost as easy as Plan A, with the added advantage of being able to indulge in a glass or two of something bracing to keep out the damp.

This morning, as I got ready for the usual Saturday morning devotions at Blackfen, Plan B began to look distinctly unappealing: the wind was howling and the rain was really lashing down. There was a brief point at which I thought the weather might clear up, but it didn't last long.

Happily, the UCM had arranged their annual Winter Warmer event. I popped in to the hall to buy some cakes (I was still intending to go to Westminster at this point) but, as I was returning to the car, the heavens really opened. I beat a hasty retreat back inside the hall, put the cakes somewhere safe, and settled down to a delicious lunch.

Maria was on the cake stall: I had already snaffled the Dundee cake and a rather nice-looking lemon sponge, but there were still plenty of others for sale.

The ladies of the UCM were serving homemade leek and potato soup: I understand that it was really scrumptious, but, having a severe aversion to greenery in my diet, I refrained from trying any, and stuck to the sandwiches and mince pies. This was definitely another wonderful parish event.

*In case any of you are puzzled by my reference to Michael Fish, this is what I'm on about...

More Photos From The Confirmations...

The parents of one of the candidates sent me these photos for publication on my blog if I so wished, and it was such a wonderful occasion that I'm happy to oblige...

Marzipan, Jelly Babies & Chemistry...

I arrived home this evening to find an email from my German friend - last year she sent me marzipan and sausages in return for traditional English sweets. This year she has been tormenting her students with descriptions of jelly babies... rather sickly sweets, made of sugar, gelatine and food colouring, dusted in icing sugar and shaped (vaguely) like little babies. I used to take great delight, as a child, in biting the heads off... Bassett's make the definitive jelly baby, though they went all PC in changing over to all natural colours and flavours a couple of years ago.

In her email, my friend offered to send me more marzipan in return for some jelly babies for her class. This seems like a very good idea: I am extremely fond of (proper) marzipan.

The request reminded me of an experiment to demonstrate respiration (Please note, respiration is NOT the same as breathing... breathing is gas exchange; respiration is getting energy from food (fuel) with the help of oxygen (aerobic respiration) or in the absence of oxygen (anaerobic respiration) - here endeth the lesson!)

Anyway, the experiment is known as the "screaming jelly baby experiment" where the glucose in the baby is oxidised pretty vigorously... this is one of the best You Tube videos, although you can't really hear the jelly baby scream - that aspect is a little bit hit-and-miss. I must try and video it myself some time!

This sort of thing may explain why people think Science teachers are weird...

I suspect marzipan would work just as well as jelly babies, but I am loathe to waste any trying it out...

We Will Remember Them...

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

Mondays...

I've decided to start a Monday slot for silly cat-and-caption pictures, courtesy of the I Can Has Cheezburger? site (and therefore will try to restrict my silly cat photos to once a week!)

Here is today's...

A Late Addition...

I meant to include this in yesterday's post on Remembrance Sunday, but I'd forgotten to ask permission to put the photo up, and didn't want to hold back on the video until David got back to me...

Anyway, I was impressed to see this collection of medals worn by Cllr David Hurley - the side the medals are worn demonstrates whether they are one's own or were awarded to one's father (or perhaps even grandfather) - but I can't remember which side, or how far back one is allowed to go, or even if one has to have been in service oneself before being allowed to wear them...

David was just off to a Remembrance Service after Mass, hence wearing the medals.

Remembrance Sunday At Blackfen...

Today was pretty awesome. We started off with a Requiem Mass with Absolutions at the Catafalque for Remembrance Sunday, and then had a service for the blessing of graves at Sidcup Cemetery.

I took lots of photos, and when it came to choosing a few for the blog, I just found that I had too many I wanted to include, and so I made a slideshow and set it to Lacrimosa from Mozart's Requiem.

The visit to the cemetery carried with it a Plenary Indulgence, applicable to the Holy Souls. I can't understand why some parishes fail to make a big thing of this work of mercy.

After Mass, but before the visit to the cemetery, a few of us popped in to the Parish Club. Jonathan, the MC, was keen to point out that the extra Missal he had brought for use during the Absolutions today had originally come from Balham...

And here is the slideshow "video"...

Confirmation According To The Usus Antiquior

A couple of the Confirmation candidates in my class this year had opted to go to St. James', Spanish Place, to be confirmed in the Traditional Rite. As catechist, I wanted to "see them done" and so I went along: it was another "first" for me.

The church is beautiful, with more statues and stained glass than you can shake a stick at...

Fr. Tim was either deacon or sub-deacon, I'm not sure which, and rather a lot of the servers seemed to be from Blackfen - eight or nine, I think. Their families came along too, and so we formed quite a respectable group!

I had problems keeping the camera still (I forgot my trusty monopod) and so messed up more than my usual number of photos. Still, I managed to get a reasonable selection to show...

Bishop George Stack, one of the Auxiliary Bishops in the Westminster Diocese, conferred the Sacrament of Confirmation (I think that is the correct term), and gave Benediction afterwards. Fr. Andrew Southwell was either deacon or sub-deacon (whatever Fr. Tim wasn't!)

Another new experience for me, and I think it will have to be a regular feature of my own personal calendar... hopefully I'll get better photos next year!

"Do You Know Him?"

A conversation this evening reminded me of this video, and, after watching it again, I decided to share...

Mantilla twitched in the direction of His Hermeneuticalness...

The CES Caves In On Sex Education

The Government has decided to stop the right of parents to withdraw their children from sex education lessons from the age of 15.

Interestingly, the Children's Secretary, Ed Balls,

"...suggested with the age of consent being 16 and with young people being able to vote at 18, it did not make sense for parents to have control over whether their children attended sex education classes right up until the age of 19."

Perhaps it doesn't make sense to allow parental control up to the age of 19, but the Government are still happy enough for parents to be legally responsible for ensuring their children attend school until the age of 16 - with dire threats of legal action for non-attendance. The Government are also quite happy to insist that all young people will have to remain in compulsory education until the age of 18. And there is no mention of a 15 year-old's right to opt out of sex education classes...

The CES claim that they are "comforted in the knowledge that our schools and colleges will do an exceptional job in providing Sex and Relationships Education, set within the teachings of the Catholic Church."

Having had occasion to protest, as a teacher in a Catholic School, the sex education provision of that school, particularly with regard to school nurses giving such lessons, and having my protest dismissed by the CES, I am not comforted by this knowledge. The whole statement from the CES demonstrates that they have completely caved in to Government pressure.

CESEW response to proposals relating to Sex and Relationships Education and parental rights.

The Catholic Education Service for England and Wales (CESEW) believes that Personal, Social, Health and Economic education (PSHE) is vital in the education of young people. It enables factual information from reliable sources to be communicated and misinformation from peers or street culture or exploitation to be avoided. The CESEW also recognises that Sex and Relationships Education (SRE) is rightly a sensitive issue. We continue to wholeheartedly support the belief that parents are the first educators of their children, as well as recognising the significant roles and responsibilities of governing bodies on these issues.

Whilst disappointed that legal encumbrances mean that a blanket right of withdrawal can no longer apply, we are pleased that the Government has recognised that the right of withdrawal in formative years is most critical and is therefore providing for the ability of parents to opt-out of SRE up to the age of 15.

CESEW will continue to firmly uphold the position that parental rights remain vital, particularly but not exclusively, in those most formative and critical years up until the age of 15.

As age and growing independence brings young people ever closer to pressures, advertising and coercion to behaviour which can undermine the healthy life of young people, we are comforted in the knowledge that our schools and colleges will do an exceptional job in providing Sex and Relationships Education, set within the teachings of the Catholic Church.

One Of THOSE Days...

...or, to be more specific, one of the days on which Murphy's Law demonstrates its existence.

First lesson of the day. I have a student teacher in class with me. I'm prepared. I manage to get to the Science lab before my class arrive (they're still in assembly, which has overrun.) The practical equipment is on the front bench. I set up my computer to connect with the smartboard...

First glitch: the board refuses to orient itself, and so I can't actually write on the smartboard.

Quickly I put the computer away and write the title and date on the miniscule white board.

I then turn my attention to the practical equipment. It isn't quite what I had expected, so I examine the tray more carefully.

Second glitch: the practical equipment is actually for another teacher, for the following lesson, on a similar but different topic.

The class has, by this time, arrived in the lab. I grab the sheets I had intended to give them for homework, distribute them to the class with instructions for completion, and dispatch the student teacher to the prep room in search of the practical I actually ordered.

Luckily it has just been forgotten behind the prep room door, and is easily retrieved.

At the end of the practical, I ask for a quick show of hands to discuss the results. How many students found that their starch solution was digested by the boiled enzyme? (For the non-scientists among you, the starch should not be digested by the boiled enzyme, as high temperatures denature and inactivate enzymes, which are biological catalysts.)

Third glitch: all the students put up their hands to show that digestion was successful.

I exchange glances with the student teacher. One or two pupils might have made mistakes, but not all of them... it is possible, however, that the solutions were mixed up...

So, I test a small sample of the starch without any enzyme. It turns black when iodine is added. All well and good. I mix the starch with the normal enzyme, and add iodine. No change. All as it should be. I mixed the starch with the boiled enzyme... and add iodine. No change... which means that either someone, somewhere, has invented a super-enzyme which can withstand boiling (which will make me lots of money when I sell it to washing powder manufacturers) ... or, alternatively, that someone forgot to boil the enzyme...

Why is it that this sort of thing only ever happens when I'm being observed by another adult who is taking notes?

Overdue For A Blonde Joke !

A Blonde died, and was sent on her way to Heaven. Upon arrival, a concerned St. Peter met her at the Pearly Gates. "I'm sorry," St. Peter said, "But Heaven is suffering from an overload of goodly souls and we have been forced to put up an Entrance Exam for new arrivals to ease the burden of Heavenly Arrivals."

"That's cool," said the blonde, "What does the Entrance Exam consist of?"

"Just three questions," said St. Peter. "The first is, which two days of the week start with the letter 'T'? The second is: how many seconds are there in a year? and the third is: what was the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?"

"Now," said St. Peter, "Go away and think about those questions and when I call upon you, I shall expect you to have those answers for me."

So the blonde went away and gave those three questions some considerable thought. The following morning, St. Peter called upon the blonde.

"Well," said St. Peter, "Which two days of the week start with the letter T?"

The blonde answered, "Easy! Today and tomorrow."

St. Peter pondered this answer for some time, and finally decided that indeed the answer couldn't be considered wrong.

"Well then, could I have your answer to the second question," St. Peter went on, "How many seconds in a year?"

The Blonde replied, "Even easier... Twelve!"

"Only twelve?" exclaimed St. Peter, "How did you arrive at that figure?"

"Well," said the Blonde, "There's the second of January, the second of February, the second of March... right through to the second of December, giving a total of twelve seconds."

St. Peter looked at the Blonde and said, "I need some time to consider your answer before I can give you a decision." And he walked away shaking his head.

A short time later, St. Peter returned to the Blonde. "God has said he'll allow the answer to stand, but you need to get the third and final question absolutely correct to be allowed into Heaven. Now, can you tell me the answer to the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?"

The blonde replied: "This was the easiest of the lot! It's Andy."

St. Peter was completely flummoxed. "Andy??"

"Yes, Andy," said the Blonde.

St. Peter paced this way and that, deliberating the answer. Finally, he could not stand the suspense any longer, and turning to the Blonde, he asked "How in God's name did you arrive at that answer?"

"Well," said the blonde, "The song goes: Andy sat, Andy watched, Andy waited till his billy boiled."

And the blonde entered Heaven...

All Souls... (Slightly Later Than Intended!)

I started to put this post up yesterday, but, after the first day back at school, I was simply too tired to think straight.

All Souls really is one of my favourite feast days... just the thought of all those souls in Purgatory being "sprung" because of Plenary Indulgences obtained on their behalf by the likes of you and me. It's pretty awesome: we have the power to get someone to heaven! It also makes it an awesome responsibility, especially for the souls who, through no fault of their own, have no-one to pray for them.

It really is a sobering thought - St. Bernadette was concerned that people would forget to pray for her when she died - assuming that she had got to heaven already, whilst in reality she'd be languishing, forgotten, in Purgatory. As it so happens, she is in heaven, but if she was worried about not being prayed for, how much more should we be concerned... especially as there is so much eulogising of the dead at funerals these days!

Anyway, I meant to get a photo at the Mass, but forgot my camera. It must have been what old Siegfried Fraud* called "motivated forgetting" because I am sure I'd have been shot down in flames by everyone noticing the terribly white candles. Mea culpa, mea culpa, I forgot to change the candles to unbleached ones!

*As it so happens, Freud's work on the unconscious mind - as evidenced by motivated forgetting and parapraxes - is actually rather convincing. It's his stuff on psychosexual development and dreams which is crap!

Government Health Warning...

Not Enough Caffeine?

I don't think any of my lessons have failed quite as spectacularly as this one...

An Excellent Suggestion From Fr. Z...

While reminding us about the Plenary Indulgences available for All Souls' Day and for the first Thursday (the latter because of the Year of the Priest), Fr. Z has come up with a particularly good suggestion... gaining the Plenary Indulgence on behalf of deceased priests.

Just think... you'll have a priest-saint in heaven, who will be eternally grateful to you... literally!

(Yes, I know, Plenary Indulgences shouldn't be clocked up with an eye to being rewarded... but still, a Plenary Indulgence for a Holy Soul in Purgatory simply has to be better than one gained for oneself, if only because we are so likely to sin again, whereas, for the Holy Souls, the effect of the indulgence is permanent!)

English Catholic Heroines...

Remember that book I blogged about? You know, the one for which I wrote a chapter on St. Anne Line?

Well, it's now on Amazon!!!

Strangely, even though the book hasn't officially been published yet, there is a seller offering a "used" copy (like new) but at nearly £4 more than a brand new copy... a little confusing, I must say!

Twitch of the mantilla to Auntie Joanna.